And boy has it got big. According to reports in my local paper The Argus, an estimated 160,000 attended the Parade through the streets and joined in the party at Preston Park.
That's a hell of a lot of very happy people. And I say happy because that's exactly what they were, and are every year. Yes they drink, dance, hug people and sing in the streets. But there's never very much trouble, certainly not in relation to the numbers of people involved. It always has such a wonderful celebratory feeling about it. I love it. People really do walk around with silly, smiley faces.
All my children, as teenagers, have joined in the fun of Pride over the years, walking through the streets of Brighton with friends (you don't really have a choice but to walk if you live here, as they close off all the roads!) and heading to the Park for all the festivities.
And just like last year, I arranged with my TD to pick her up on the seafront at 11.30pm.
This was not as simple as it sounds.
I managed to not kill, maim or run over roughly 25 extremely happy people who, due to the sheer mass of bodies on the pavements outside all the clubs, decided that the roads would be a much more viable alternative to a dancefloor. But this just made me smile even more, rather than roll out the road rage. I was laughing out loud as I managed to manoeuvre my car round various 7ft tall gorgeous Ladies and people in all manner of amazing costumes, and rather fit looking men with very little clothing *ahem* on, dancing in the middle of the 'main' roads.
TD had left the house at 10am wearing various leopard print clothing, with a cute little 'Cat' face drawn on. By the time I picked her up she resembled a slightly bedraggled, but very happy 'Cat'.
Sometimes I just love living in a place where everyone comes to party!
Wouldn't you?
