Let’s be honest: planning a party in Brighton can sometimes feel like a second job. You start with a vision of a warm, soulful gathering of friends, only to get bogged down in the logistics of sterile function rooms, eye-watering hire fees, and corporate beer contracts that make every bar feel exactly like the last one. At Lost and Found,

There is a certain magic that happens when the right people gather in the right space. We’ve all been to those parties: the ones that feel a bit "stiff," held in windowless hotel conference rooms or characterless corporate bars where the lighting is too bright and the beer is too forgettable. You know the feeling: you’re checking your watch, wondering

Let’s be honest: dating in 2026 is a bit of a slog. We’ve all been there, trapped in a digital purgatory of "Hey, how’s your Monday?" and "What do you do for fun?" for three weeks, only to meet in person and realise within thirty seconds that the vibe is doing absolutely no heavy lifting at all. It’s exhausting. It’s

Let’s be honest for a second. We’ve all been there. It’s 2 AM on a Sunday morning, you’re standing in a sticky-floored club somewhere in central Brighton, ears ringing from a bassline that’s more "industrial drill" than "musical masterpiece," and you’re wondering: Is this actually fun? For years, the Saturday night bender was the undisputed heavyweight champion of the social

There is a shift happening on the streets of Brighton. If you’ve spent any time walking up Ditchling Road toward Fiveways lately, you’ll have felt it. It’s a quiet revolution, one poured pint by pint, served not by a corporate machine, but by people who actually care about what’s in your glass. The era of the "generic pint" is fading.

There is a shift happening on the streets of Brighton. If you’ve spent any time walking up Ditchling Road toward Fiveways lately, you’ll have felt it. It’s a quiet revolution, one poured pint by pint, served not by a corporate machine, but by people who actually care about what’s in your glass. The era of the "generic pint" is fading.

The final whistle has blown at the Amex. Whether we’re celebrating a last-minute screamer, dissecting a tactical masterclass, or drowning the sorrows of a VAR decision that went the wrong way, there is one universal truth in this city: the match isn’t over until you’ve had a proper pint. If you’re heading back from the Brighton vs. Wolves clash today,

For years, the Brighton craft beer scene has been bathed in a neon glow of hazy IPAs and juice-bomb pales. We’ve all been there: chasing the citrus, the mango, and the hop-heavy highs that defined the early 2020s. But look around. Can you feel the shift? There’s a rumble in the glass, a deepening of the hue, and a collective

Planning a party in Brighton should be about the guest list, the playlist, and that first, crisp sip of a local Sussex pale ale. It should be a moment of excitement, a visionary spark of "what if we gathered everyone together?" It shouldn't be a forensic investigation into a twelve-page contract to find out why you’re being charged £150 for

Let’s be honest for a second. Planning a party in Brighton can be a bit of a nightmare. You’re usually stuck choosing between a sticky-floored basement in the city centre that smells like 1994, or a corporate "craft" bar where the staff are following a script and the beer is owned by a global conglomerate. It shouldn't be that way.