← Get Sleepy: Sleep meditation and stories
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Get Sleepy is a production of Slumber Studios. To listen ad free, access our entire catalogue of episodes and support the show directly. Check out our premium feed by going to getsleepy.com support now a quick word from our sponsors.
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welcome to get Sleepy, where we listen, we relax, and we get sleepy. My name's Thomas and I'm your host. Thank you so much for joining us here for the first of our regular weekly Tuesday episodes. As a reminder, or for anyone who didn't hear about it already, we'll now be releasing a Get Sleepy episode every single weeknight. Going forward. This evening, we'll journey back in time for a visit to Brighton in the 1950s. Brighton is a charming seaside town on the southeast coast of England. We'll learn all about this historic resort as we explore the town in its heyday. This one was written by Joe and will be read by Nadine. So my friends, it's time to settle in and prepare for our story. So let's move through that process together for the next couple of minutes. Arrange your body with care and purpose. Listen to what it needs, perhaps more support at the neck, at the knees or hips. Check in with each part, adjusting and shifting as you'd like. Craft your comfort like a sculptor smoothing out all your edges. Rest comes not only from the body, but also from the mind. Allow each persistent thought, worry or care to drift away. If needed, they'll return another day when you're more able to Address them. Imagine yourself sitting by a pool of deep water. As each new thought drifts to the surface. Observe it and then allow it to sink back down to the depths. And now that you're feeling a little more relaxed, just follow the sound of Nadine's soothing voice. As we travel back through time to the 1950s, this is where our story begins.
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Imagine that you're sitting on a bench, one of many, positioned along a stone promenade. You've closed your eyes to heighten your other senses and to really expand experience the atmosphere of the seaside. You can hear the rolling waves of the sea ahead, rising and falling in an endless rhythm. It's one of those sounds that's unmistakable, especially as it's accompanied by the cawing of seagulls. You can feel the warmth of sunshine on your skin and the gentle breeze that tickles at your clothes. It wafts across you in soft cooling waves. The fresh scent of salt water hangs on the air, making every breath seem somehow healing. You can't help but smile as you inhale and exhale and then open your eyes to take in the view. The promenade looks out across the coastline, A picture perfect scene framed by cream colored railings. A sun warmed pebbled beach seems to go on forever before. A cobalt blue sea, vast and beautiful. It's a scene that looks strangely familiar, as if you've been here before in a long forgotten dream. When you lower your gaze, you see a book resting on your lap, as if you just put it down. You pick up the book, causing the pages to flutter and study the front cover. Now you see that it's not just similar to the view in front of you, but identical, right down to the old fashioned clothing of the people. The photograph is a freeze frame of what's happening all around you. A young child splashes in the sea's foamy waves, his white blond hair luminous in the sunshine. His brother plays beside him in matching navy swim shorts, the sound of their laughter carrying across the beach. The children wave to their mother who watches from a beach mat. Leaning back on her elbows in a ruched one piece swimsuit, she looks like a starlet from days long past, her hair pinned and curled. Intrigued, you turn the book and examine its spine, where the title is written in bold yellow letters. You read the words aloud. Brighton, seaside in the 1950s. That's where you are. It's strange, but you're certain you're sitting on Brighton's promenade in the 1950s. The beach looks out across the south east English coastline and the English Channel, which Separates Britain from France. You put the book on the bench and stand up and stretch, raising your arms towards the side sky before releasing them to your sides. You savor the lovely smell of the salt water, taking a deep breath in as you begin moving. The main road to your left has a steady stream of traffic. Dark green double decker buses and classic cars of the time. Elegant and curvaceous. You suppose that the road might be described as fairly busy, but it certainly doesn't feel crowded or hectic. In fact, there's a natural synchronicity to the movement of the vehicles, as if each were part of some grand choreography. Drivers seem to move in harmony with one another, much like the people passing by. They saunter easily, chatting to each other, smiling and laughing as they take in the sights. They weave in and out of the crowds and give space for the couples walking hand in hand. These pairs include people of all ages, from teenagers to elderly retirees. The outfits they wear are more formal than modern fashions. They represent another era, one that's elegant and refined. These are the fashions of post war Britain, when a trip to the seaside was an excuse to dress up well. Women along the promenade wear thin summer dresses pulled in at the waist and stopping just below the knee. Many of the dresses have patterned fabrics with pretty flowers or polka dots. Other women wear cropped trousers in equally bright patterns. Most of the men wear collared shirts and high waisted trousers, some with suspenders and ties. A few even wear waistcoats, though as it's a warm day, they've left their jackets and at home hats are worn by both men and women. You watch as a man tips his trilby to another, a polite sign of acknowledgment. When you pass the man, moments later he walks on wearing an easy smile. It's as if he doesn't see you, as if no one here sees you. It seems that you're invisible in this strange and lovely place. You smile as you ponder the freedom that this allows. You can do exactly as you please, go wherever your fancy takes you and study the place and people more closely. And what a charming place it is, this quaint seaside town. From the waves lapping against the shore to your right, to the buildings on your left that form Brighton's seafront. There are shops, cafes, pubs and restaurants and massive hotels some five stories high. Most buildings are either cream or white, with the occasional shade of powder blue. A glance down the street reveals classic terraced buildings, likely a row of bed and breakfasts within easy walking distance from from the shore, the buildings are in the styles of bygone eras, showcasing Regency Victorian and Edwardian characteristics. Along the promenade. The majority of buildings are examples of Regency architecture popular throughout Britain in the 19th century. Something about them reminds you of ancient Greece or Rome, especially the buildings that are painted white. But they're less ostentatious than ancient temples with minimal decoration. Most buildings might be called neoclassical in style. They're elegant yet simple, grand yet understated. Some have facades that are curved at the front, with stuccoed archways above doors and bay windows. Other facades are flat, with rectangular windows and large French doors leading out to small balconies. The building you're passing now is a huge hotel, six stories high. You can make out figures on an upper balcony. They lean against the sculpted balustrades as they take in the view of those hypnotic waves. Somewhere close by, you hear music playing the dulcet tones of a brass band. They're playing an instrumental version of the coastal classic I do like to be beside the seaside. It's the perfect soundtrack, especially with the waves in the background. People on the walkway seem to move to the rhythm, unconsciously swaying their hips to the music. You follow the sound as you continue onwards, passing teenagers, families, couples and friends. Everyone seems to wear the same expression, a blend of excitement and calm contentment. An elderly man and woman stroll hand in hand past a couple of deck chairs where two men are sleeping. The men's faces are hidden beneath their hats. Their bodies slouch in the striped canvas of the deck chairs. They've propped up their legs through the promenade railings. It's as if they're at home in their living rooms, feet resting on a coffee table. The men are dressed quite smartly in high waisted shorts, their feet clad in socks and sandals. Many more people are resting or dozing on the section of beach below the promenade. They're lounging in deck chairs that face the water, eyes shielded by hats, books and magazines. Elsewhere, people lie directly on the beach, looking surprisingly comfortable on the pebbles. Their bare skin glistens with lotion shining golden beneath the rays of summer sunlight. Many of the families on the beach have erected windbreakers to shield them from the breeze. They're the same ones you see on sale outside shops. They're sapphire blue canvas lined with with stripes of red and yellow. There's also a series of tents lined up in a row towards the back end of the beach. Chalkboard signs display a price list for tourists should they wish to rent a tent for the day. Unlike modern tents, they're rectangular in shape, appearing very much like makeshift dressing cubicles. The canvases have nautical stripes, red and white, alternating with blue and white. People sit outside the tents they've rented, sunbathing on deck chairs. One woman exits the tent with a large wicker basket, a picnic, which she serves to her family on their chairs. Elsewhere, a man steps out of a tent, having changed into his black swimming shorts. He joins a woman who's already in her costume, a halter neck, one piece in red and white gingham print. The middle aged couple make for an endearing sight as they jog hand in hand towards the sea. The lady giggles like a gleeful child as they wade into the water. You pause beside the railings as you watch the couple sharing in their joyous moment beside you. Two women have also stopped to watch. They smile at the sight of the couple. Perhaps they decide they'll do the same tomorrow and venture into the waves. You gather from their conversation that it's their first day in Brighton and that the red headed woman, despite appearing to be in her early 20s, is seeing the sea for the very first time. She gazes at the waves with an expression of awe, her eyes wide and gleaming, her mouth open in wonder as the sunlight flickers across the water. She tells her companion that she's never seen anything so beautiful. You follow her gaze and look again at the sea, studying its details as if through her eyes. The young woman is right. There's nothing quite like it. Whether it's for the first or ten thousandth time, the waves never fail to evoke a reaction. You pause for a moment and lean over the railings, taking in a breath of that salty sea air. How wonderful it is to breathe it in, to feel somehow connected to these beautiful rolling waves. You could stand here for hours, watching them rise and fall. Any cares and concerns fade away on the breeze and thoughts are lost beneath a symphony of crashing waves. Eventually, the women beside you leave, strolling happily down the promenade towards the sound of music. You savour another deep breath of sea air before wandering on in the same direction. You can't help but wonder how many other people here might also be enjoying their first visit, tasting the sea air for the very first time and feeling it waft through their hair as they stroll along the walkway. Some might be enjoying their first fish and chips by the seaside or sampling the delights of candy floss. And some of the children might be enjoying their first holiday altogether. In Britain, holidays became more widespread from the 1840s onward, thanks to the growing accessibility of Train travel. But it's only now in the 1950s that the British seaside holiday is enjoying its heyday. It fills you with pleasure to watch those never ending waves, to make out different patterns rippling across the water, to hear children laughing as they play in the surf, and to see their happy faces as they slurp on ice lollies. A crowd is gathered ahead, watching the performance on the Victorian bandstand. The musicians are dressed in suits and seated beneath the roof of an octagonal gazebo. Every inch of its frame has been painted white and green, from the exotic domes of its roof to the ornate pillars and patterned archways beneath them. The tiled stage is level with the sea behind it, the water visible through the gaps in the railings. You pause for a moment and join the crowd, taking in a melody that moves like the waves. It rises with the trumpeters to its highest point, while the low, deep notes are left to the tubers. There's something uniquely charming about the music, an echo of the seaside from times long past. The sound seems to resonate for miles, vibrating beneath your feet as you continue on your way onwards. You walk away from the bandstand until the music is barely audible behind the sound of the waves. It's nice to become lost in the patter of footsteps, the low rumble of traffic and the occasional clip clop of a horse and carriage. Historic structures are positioned along the walkway, many painted in the hues of the seaside. There's a circular kiosk that at first you think is canvas. It reminds you of a fairground marquee. Close up, you see it's actually a wooden structure with red and white stripes painted on its walls. A man and woman are visible through the kiosk's open window, selling cups of seafood to queues of patrons. Nearby, a man eats from a cup of fresh mussels, declaring to his wife that it's the taste of the sea. A little further on, a group of children are queuing beside a chalkboard sign advertising candy floss. A young boy and his older sister stand at the front of a queue before a small silver wagon. The owner of the stall is dressed in a charming uniform, including white press trousers, a crisp white shirt and a bow tie in fuchsia pink. His straw hat has a ribbon around its rim, white and pink stripes to match the rest of his outfit. You stand and watch alongside the children as he pours powder into a rotating machine. He then traces a wooden stick around the bowl, gathering the spun sugar into a fuzzy pink cloud. The children look as though they've witnessed magic as they thank the vendor and take their candy floss. Their expressions are gleeful as they wander away, eating as they walk. The scent of sugar hangs on the air as you walk on past a Victorian ticket booth. It's one of many historic structures similar to the bandstand that are dotted liberally about the seafront. Tickets are being sold to all kinds of events, some in the concert hall on the nearby West Pier and others in the Palace Pier further along. You remember reading somewhere that there were originally three piers in Brighton, but that the first one, the Chain Pier, was destroyed by a storm. All that remains now is a commemorative plaque and John Constable's famous painting which depicts the pier in its former glory. The West Pier to your right was the second to be built. It was officially opened in 1866. These days it's pretty quiet, the Palace Pier being much more popular. Still, the West Pier makes for a pretty sight, jutting out across the waves towards the horizon, as does the residential square that you pass. On your left, elegant five story terraces frame a rectangle of garden. After their construction in the early 19th century, these kind of buildings were frequented by wealthy visitors. Londoners in particular were drawn to Brighton, especially after the opening of a train line in 1841, which made it possible to reach the coast in around an hour. Even now, in the 1950s, Brighton is sometimes referred to as London by the Sea. And that's not only because of its proximity to the capital. There's a vibe in Brighton that sets it apart from other resorts. It's sleepy and relaxing, but also cosmopolitan, like a city. Perhaps this is a result of Brighton's glamorous tourists modeling the latest in summer fashions. They look like stylish urbanites, but with the addition of sunglasses, beach bags and colourful sun hats. Or maybe it's the shops in Brighton's shopping district, an area that began to develop in the late 18th century century. The Lanes is a collection of narrow alleyways which are lined on both sides with historic shops. Shoppers come from far and wide to browse the wares. Brighton's antique shops are a particular draw, with curiosities that rival London markets such as Portobello Road and Covent Garden. The town also boasts the kind of live music scene that you'd expect from a city rather than a sleepy coastal town. From the latest jazz acts and rock and roll bands to the orchestra that performs weekly at the Regency Ballroom as couples waltz and foxtrot across the floor. Nearly every pub employs a pianist, and some have jazz bands or string quartets. The pub you're passing now relies on an accordion player for atmosphere. You recognise its sound, rich and reedy, seeping out through the building's open windows. The musician is performing a traditional sea shanty. What shall we do with a drunken sailor? You can't help but bob along to the tune, even once. The music is long behind you. Then something else catches your attention. A small group of tourists standing on the pavement. You listen in to what their tour guide is saying as he tells the group about Dr. Richard Russell. Apparently, the man who once lived just across the road was almost single handedly responsible for transforming Brighton from a fishing village into a popular health resort. In 1750, Russell published a book which detailed the use of seawater as a treatment for different ailments. He advised his patients to visit their nearest coastline. And as he worked in nearby Lewes. That place was Brighton. Upon his advice, the wealthy and ailing flocked to Brighton as a means of improving their health. So popular were his treatments that Russell moved here himself, setting up surgery in 1753. He was instrumental in the seaside mania that spread across Britain in the late 18th century. The Prince Regent, later King George IV, became particularly enamoured with Brighton's charms. The Prince was well known for his extravagant ways and whenever he visited Brighton, reaped the rewards. Perhaps most notably, he employed the architect John Nash to build his seaside retreat, the Royal Pavilion. You watch as the tour guide points out the rooftop of a building in the distance. It almost looks like a mosque, with its domed roofs and towering minarets. The architect took inspiration from Indian and Islamic styles in order to bring the Prince's oriental vision to life. Other royals would stay there too, until Queen Victoria sold the building to Brighton Council, who have used it as a tourist attraction in the years since. You gather that the tour group are heading there now and that they're on their way back from visiting the pier. You overhear a boy announcing to his parents with some certainty that it couldn't possibly be any better than the pier. The Palace Pier is where you're headed now. With each step forward, it seems more inviting. You can smell fish and chips and other food served in the cafes. And you hear the sounds of a fun fair growing louder. But the building on the pier doesn't look like a fairground. It's more like an actual palace. Beyond the opulent walkway, you see what looks like a grand white pavilion, its glass domed roof sparkling in the sunlight. The words palace of Fun are displayed on a banner at the entrance, with Union Jack flags on either side. You pause for a moment on the promenade and watch the flags dancing on their poles. You're about to move on when something captures your attention. A couple of women dressed in striking uniforms. The Brighton Promets are unique to this location. They're light air stewardesses, only working on the promenade. Instead of a plane, they wear blue dress suits and matching hats, along with black suede shoes and elegant white gloves. These glamorous hostesses are on hand to answer tourists questions. Often they're called upon to offer directions to the roller rink, the theatre, the children's swimming pool or the playground. They can help with deck chair rental or suggest which cafe serves the best cup of tea. The hostess you see now has spotted a family taking a photograph. She approaches with a smile, offering to snap the picture for them. Delighted, the family huddle together, posing against a backdrop of the pier and the sea. As you walk past onto the pier, you imagine that it's a picture they'll cherish. A sense of calm washes over you now as you meander along the wooden floorboards. You look up to see the pier clock tower and the sky dimmed in the late afternoon. The beach is visible through railings at your side. But now you find yourself focused on the wide central walkway, which is home to countless food stalls. Vendors sell everything from oysters to popcorn to treacle covered apples and cups of hot chocolate. The pier is like the deck of a luxury cruise ship, with its restaurants, tea rooms and concert hall. Many people sit at picnic tables outside cafes, while others sip from cups of tea on benches along the walkway. Some of these people might be parents or grandparents, content to relax while their children Play. At over 500 metres long, the pier isn't short of amusements. There's something to entertain tourists of every age and inclination. The largest rides are at the end of the pier, so tall and colorful that they're visible from afar. A Helter Skelter is shaped like a lighthouse and covered in bright patterns of red, white and blue. Children laugh as they whoosh down the slide, which curves tightly around its walls. Nearby, you spot other rides, including a carousel with golden horses and shiny bumper cars. There's also plenty to do for the less adventurous. Some people practice their aim in an attempt to win prizes by throwing balls at targets in Knockdown Clown. Others use a fishing rod to catch a moving target. A bright yellow bird at the Hooker Duck stand alongside the games. There's a museum of waxworks and a booth beside it where people can have their portrait drawn. The sitter being sketched now looks Familiar. It's the red haired woman you saw earlier, the one who was visiting the seaside for the very first time. A friend is just ahead buying a souvenir from a shop, a seashell which contains their horoscope. She picks one up for her friend too, before browsing through the rows of sweet Brighton rock. The pair look like they've had a lovely day, exploring Brighton just as you have. You're enjoying your stroll along the pier with the waves rolling and splashing beneath you. It's hard to imagine how it could get any better as you approach the end of the pier and take the steps down. But the lower level is supremely relaxing, being so much closer to the water. People sit on deck chairs, fishing, knitting or doing nothing at all. And while the arcade is accessible through nearby doors, right now a deck chair looks far more appealing. One chair in particular draws your interest with a cosy looking blanket folded up on the canvas. Sitting beside it is the same book that you saw earlier, the one with a picture of Brighton on the COVID You make yourself comfortable in the deck chair and pull the blanket up around your legs. Picking up the book, you notice the picture on the back. It's the Palace Pier, illuminated at dusk. And as if by magic, the pier comes to life around you. Thousands of lights shine bright against the evening. They light up the walkways, banisters and rooftops, as well as the rides. Like the carousel, where the lights are reflected on the water, they form a blanket of moving stars dancing gracefully across dark blue waves. You set down the book, content to do nothing but sit and relax. You're completely absorbed by the sound of waves lapping and the patterns of light ever changing on the water. And so, once again, you close your eyes, your thoughts drifting away in the sea breeze. You inhale and exhale, eventually dozing off into a deep and restful sleep.