Only In Brighton & Hove

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I read this letter in a local Brighton newspaper not long after moving here 25 years ago.

It sums up better than I could why I decided to live here...
A horse-riding friend, living in the peaceful tranquility of a Sussex hamlet (thatched roof cottages etc) visited my central Brighton home the other day and tried to commiserate with me about my terrible environment, with rubbish sacks and traffic jams on her list. As a townie, I have little experience of what happens in rural pastures beyond the realms of Preston Park. It's a bit of a mystery to me, like the far side of the moon. However, she was so persuasive that I felt inclined to agree with her. Then, after she left, I gazed out of my window and within the space of one hour, saw a group of samba dancers in wonderfully coloured costumes returning from a function, a woman in a dressing gown walking her dog, a man bellowing "I used to be a town crier", a stuntman standing on the roof of a car moving at very slow speed with a camera crew filming him and a gaggle of giggling girls on a hen party outing carrying a five-foot long, blow up penis. This might not be everyone's cup of tea but I thought to myself, would I really want to exchange it for a view of green fields enlivened by the occasional sighting of a cow? No thank you.