You know that moment when you park, and then walk forwards instead of backwards? That’s this car park. It’s literally opposite the Brighton Centre, a 30-second stroll from the main entrance. Perfect if you’re there for a gig, a conference, or to watch a man in a wetsuit preach about seagulls.
The irony? The road is called Russell Road, but there’s nothing Russell Brand about it—it’s functional and slightly grey. But once you’re inside, you forget the concrete. You forget the rain. You just win at adulting for a hot second.
What’s the actual vibe inside?
Look, it’s an NCP, not a spa. It smells faintly of damp Woolworths and 1980s ambition. But—and this is key—the lighting is decent, the spaces are wide enough for a family hatchback and a bit of hope, and the ticket machines usually work on the first try.
I’ve seen people reverse into spots here with the confidence of a Formula 1 driver. That’s not normal for Brighton. That’s the car park’s magic. It gives you a tiny ego boost before you hit the sea air and overpriced ice cream.
