Candy-floss & beach goods: Felixstowe, Suffolk 2013.
Childhood memories of the English seaside evoke an array of 1970s caravans & chalets, shops that would wheel-out each morning racks of weather-warped postcards and the bleeps from the amusement arcades; lit-up bingo & crap prizes. Then came the budget airlines that could take a family to some grisly foreign shore at a fraction of the cost than a stay in the aforementioned 1970s caravan. My mother & I, at times recollect how as a family we would head east from Leicestershire in an Austin Allegro, four kids on the back-seat, two dogs and the obligatory (yet necessary) sick buckets (mostly for me). We would go to the coast of Lincolnshire or Norfolk, on arrival Mum would cry at the hideosity of the chalet "Two fucking weeks in this!"; she would weep. My sister (Claire) & I would take the room with the bunk beds.., I say room, I really mean a broom-cupboard with two mattressed-shelves; the top bunk allowing only a 1ft between bed and ceiling and we both had to sleep with our heads squeezed through the small windows simply to breathe. The beds would be dressed with ancient itchy-wool blankets and sand from previous holiday-makers; fortunately, we were too young to understand what pubic hairs were. Our parents bed took shape from some complex re-arranging of the sofa cushions and a winding-down of the lounge- table; often this became referred to as the dog-kennel. Our parents would save-up for this each year. It was a big deal; we HAD to enjoy ourselves.
Circa 1983 - Lincolnshire: My younger Brother & I playing by the sewage outlet pipe.
Our seaside resorts are changing. If this is because of our countries economic crisis or simply towns desperately trying to survive/revive, who knows; even our crap Butlins have taken a vintage slant in their advertising; those barbed-wired aqua-prison camps are being presented to us in the modern age all anew; I blame Wayne Hemmingway for this with his crap vintage festival & firmly clinging to his working-class core; he can keep Butlins!
Aldeburgh 2013 - The staging for Benjamin Brittens' Peter Grimes opera (on the beach).
Aldeburgh in Suffolk (on the other hand) has become the destination for middle-class Londoners; those in their 40s who now find Brighton just a little too much so, they parade Aldeburgh with swanky push-chairs allowing there un-disciplined children to roam; there are lots of daddys wearing their babies in those ruck-sack slings here, queuing for miles for the towns aclaimed fish & chips. Heres the secret, Southwold is by far the better seaside town! The pier at Southwold is gentified but not ruined; also Michael Palin hails from here. There are no chavs or beastly peoples. There is Adnams ales, Walberswick and nearby Dunwich heath/nature reserve. Going North up the coast from here, it is recommended to bypass Lowestoft & Great Yarmouth and settle for Happisburgh, Mundesley & the treasure that is Sheringham.
Likely Hemsby (Norfolk) circa 1985: Me (on the right) wearing the mode du jour - tartan, elasticated jeans with plastic belt, a very camp lemon vest-top & the footwear of the mid 1980s, espidrilles of varying colours; I also note that I appear to carry a effete demeaner, my mother is donning a holiday perm hair-doo. My siblings seem to be enjoying themselves. The soundtrack to this holiday was The Bluebells (Young at heart) & Captain Sensible (Happy Talk) whilst sat in the back seat of the Allegro & its burning thighs on the leatherette seating. was this the year of Live Aid, quite likely!
Southwold (Suffolk) 2013 - Setting for Michael Palins' coming of age biopic east of Ipswich film.
Mundesley (Norfolk) 2013. Fare away from the maddening crowds, deserted sandy beaches, a clip-top pub and maintaining a proper village still; my friend Simon & his family came to live here a year ago.
Sheringham (Norfolk) 2013. The summer heat-wave means many ditch their clothes & take to the sea.
Sheringham (Norfolk) 2013. The magnet of the sea.
Sheringham (Norfolk) 2013.
Sheringham on the North Norfolk coast is my own personal sea-haven. It harbours no pretensions; it is an honest sort of place. The Lobster (Inn) is the better of the three pubs & serves delicious food/crab sandwiches. There are two other pubs which sit on the cliff-tops with excellent views to sea. Sheringham High street maintains a busy heart of the town with grocers, butchers, hardware store and the best seafood kiosk (Dressed Crab £2-4 dependent on size of crab & huge tubs of prawns for £3!). There is a wondrous bric-a-brac/collectables/antiques shop, the Bure Valley railway & safe beach bathing with the shallow waters. The train service here is regular from Norwich on the rattling Bittern line via Cromer; it can get crowded.., particularly with heavy-suitcased pensioners.
Back in 1980, Great Yarmouth promised fun for just 10 pence! It's written all over my face.
Enjoy the Summer, Monty Trumpington.
PS: Sheringham has much better Fish & Chips than Aldebugh!!
