In writing this column, I begin to notice a disturbing pattern emerging, namely that there appears to be an almost infinite supply of sub-sections of the British community that cause me to feel irritated: frustrated novelists, undergraduates, the Scottish, people who live in churches, people who live in Bath. Until recently, people who move from London to Brighton also fitted smugly – I mean snugly – into that category.

Partly, but not entirely, it’s because they’re always so evangelical about the wretched place (which I had never visited). It’s also because their evangelism has worked: we all seem to know this isn’t just one more seaside town, once elegant, now a little run-down. Brighton is incredibly groovy.

I recently met a film-industry sleaze-bag who had joined the mass of high-earning, still-groovy autumn chickens who’ve succumbed to the Brighton pull. That is to say, he’d moved his family there while he kept a place in town, thereby freeing up plenty of groovy evenings; but let’s not go into that. He thought Brighton marvellous.

“Why do you suppose,” I asked him idly, “that Brighton has a reputation for being so groovy?” “It’s certainly true,” he answered groovily, gusting his wine-and-cocaine breath all over me, “that there are a lot of film-industry bods down there. And, Daisy, I’ll tell you forwhy. Because it’s such a fabulous train journey! It takes exactly the same length of time to get from Victoria to Brighton as it takes to read a film script from start to finish.”

About 50 minutes, then. I had come to Brighton, full of preconceived and ungenerous opinions, to inspect a groovy-looking three-bedroom “penthouse apartment” on the top two floors of Grade I-listed Lewes Crescent, 1½ miles outside the town centre. And, what with one thing and another, I was in a fairly filthy mood. There were too many youngsters with body piercings and goatee beards conforming to small-town type on the station concourse, for a kick-off; flopping aimlessly about, smoking rollies and calling each other “man”. It was pouring with rain and I was wearing a T-shirt. And the taxi driver’s voiture stank of cigarettes.

“Why do you suppose it is,” I asked him grumpily, as we drove through grey and rainy streets, “that Brighton is so famous for being groovy?”

“Because,” the taxi driver replied, without missing a beat, “we’ve got so many celebrities – Nick Berry from EastEnders, to name but one. Derek Jameson, to name another. Oh, and Paul McCartney. And, of course, the lovely Zoë Ball.” Ball, I read somewhere (it may not be true), had a dancer’s pole installed in the marital pad, a valiant effort to keep the home flames burning. Only in Brighton, eh?

“Celebrities tend to really like it here,” the driver continued (he’d forgotten to mention Julie Burchill), “because Brighton people aren’t that impressed by them. We tend to think of them like ordinary people, and they like that.” Then he told me a “lovely Brighton story” about Macca being asked by an old lady to pass him a tin of beans from the top shelf in the local supermarket. “The poor thing hadn’t the foggiest who she was talking to ...”

We laughed at that together, groovy souls that we were. Actually, though, I don’t see what’s so wrong with asking Britain’s grooviest sexagenarian to pass the ruddy beans, as everyone’s pretending he’s so ordinary.

Enough of all this. I came to Brighton full of negativity and spite, and now that I’ve spewed it out, I’m feeling faintly disgusted, as if I’ve eaten too many chocolates. Here’s the thing: Lewes Crescent isn’t just beautiful, it’s breathtaking – early-19th-century, white stucco, unapologetically grand. Originally built as 78 houses, but long since converted into flats, it curves around a five-acre communal garden and faces directly out to sea – a sea that, even on this greyest of days, reflects the light in a way that makes the spirits soar. It is truly stunning.

Flat 3, number 7 (pictured above) is a three-bedroom, 1,800 sq ft maisonette that needs some cosmetic work – but the views and the space available are spectacular. On the top floor is a dazzling (I’m running out of superlatives here) sitting room, 30ft by 30ft, with two fireplaces, a roof terrace overlooking the town and a balcony overlooking the sea. It ought to be somebody’s dream home.

Yet the price has already been cut by £100,000 to £750,000, and I suspect that, even in a perfect climate, selling it wouldn’t be entirely straightforward. A smugglers’ tunnel runs beneath the road and the bank that separates the communal garden from the beachfront. It would be hard to imagine a safer, more idyllic setup for children. Trouble is, said bank, known locally as Duke’s Mound, is a notoriously popular spot for brief but intimate encounters among Brighton’s vibrant gay community. Which is lovely, of course. Party on, say I, as quickly and groovily as possible.

Nevertheless, perhaps the agent’s best bet would be to send a brochure to the eternally groovy and eternally beleaguered George Michael, for whom the Mound might even be a selling point. It seems to me he needs a break – and, with a bit of money spent on it, there’s no question that this place could be made truly exceptional.

Flat 3, 7 Lewes Crescent, £750,000

What is it? A three-bedroom flat on the top two floors of a Grade I-listed Georgian terraced property, with sea views Where is it?Lewes Crescent, 1½ miles from Brighton centre Who is selling it?Mishon Mackay; 01273 670067, www.mishonmackay.com

Not tempted? Here’s what £750,000 buys elsewhere

North Yorkshire

This three-bedroom house near Linton, a village 10 miles from York, has two reception rooms, two bathrooms and landscaped gardens. Access is via a private driveway. Dacre, Son & Hartley; 01937 586177, www.dacres.co.uk

Berkshire

Set in half an acre backing onto woodland, this five-bedroom house with four reception rooms, a garage and a conservatory is in Burghfield Common, five miles from Reading. Parkers Properties; 0118 983 3897, www.parkersproperties.co.uk

Worcestershire

Naunton Farm is a Grade II-listed Victorian farmhouse in Worcester, with eight bedrooms, four bathrooms, three reception rooms and a swimming pool. Andrew Grant; 01905 734735, www.andrew-grant.co.uk. Click here to view property

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