Monday 17 September 2018

The seaside town











The beach has taken on a more end-of-season quality now. Deckchairs are still out, but jumpers are on. Children are still in shorts and a t-shirt and demanding ice-cream, but the rest of us have a coat to hand and are eyeing the hot drinks. Bertie loves it more this way, and I think I do too. It's more bracing. He can run and run without having to lie down and pant, and we can walk over miles of sand and enjoy mostly just the company of other dog owners and a few kite surfers.

The biggest boy is doing photography at school and had an assignment to take some images in the style of Martin Parr, so the beach was the perfect place. Lots of ice-cream stands and bucket and spade stalls and people doing the seaside things. It's a typical Victorian seaside resort; if you look beyond the seafront chippies and cheap bars there's a whisper of its former splendour to be seen, but on the whole anywhere on the front has been commercialised in some way. A couple of streets away there are rundown Victorian terraces, once grand, but now split into flats and bedsits. The occupants don't have the money for the upkeep of the grand buildings, so they are falling gently into dilapidation. Maybe one day they will be 'gentrified' again, such is the circle of things.

I like visiting the beach town. All life is there. The summer days are a raucous jumble of children and adults trying to control them and stalls and shops selling the horrible ubiquitous plastic rubbish. As night falls the atmosphere changes and the revellers take over. There are pimped up little cars making endless noisy circuits of the sea front, boys in tight tops with tattooed, suntanned skin, hanging around in tense groups, waiting for something to happen. Girls fluttering around the edges, short skirts, all the make-up, expectations high. You know how it is when night falls in the summer.

A couple of streets back from the front it's edgier in places. Dark corners and seedy bars, drugs deals and muttered half-conversations that only make sense to those in the know. Energy with nowhere else to go spilling out into a fight, drama created for the sake of creating drama, for something to do. Action, to give the night a purpose, to make a memory.

For some it attracts while for some it repels. Some just like to go and watch and take it all in. Life, and lots of it.

13 comments:

  1. Must admit I'm not a fan of seaside town - I'm more attracted to a quiet, underpopulated cove. Pity we didn't have the choice to study photography at school. I'd have liked that. I could have when I was studying to be a teacher but I didn't fancy being in the darkroom with the tutor - no digital camera then!

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  2. The wide empty would call me more than the busy, busy too. Seaside towns are different to other towns aren’t they? Perhaps all that energy contained in the moving tide. Xx

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  3. Love English seaside towns especially out of season. Grey muted skies, empty beaches full of promise. Mind you I don’t like the sound of those back street dealings , not good. Glad your son is doing photography. My middle son did it for A level and thoroughly enjoyed it. A bit of light relief amongst all the heavy weight subjects. It also taught him to really look and appreciate. A skill that can never be underestimated. Have a lovely week. B x

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  4. I love the beach, well I just love the seaside really. The smell of the sea air - aaaaahhh
    Jillxo

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  5. Good post and pictures. I with Bertie and you in preferring it now. xx

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  6. I really enjoyed your descriptive writing, CJ. I haven't spent much time on the beach, despite having grown up only a couple of hours from the Atlantic Ocean, but we didn't go often. I did enjoy it when I went, but I was young enough not to see the darker side as you've discussed here. I hope the photography assignment went well. Your photos are beautiful.

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  7. What wonderful writing describing the depths of the seaside!
    We always travel to the shore off season for many of the reasons you mentioned.
    Lovely photos!

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  8. Beautiful writing CJ - I was right there! Hope your boy enjoys his photography course. It sounds great.

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  9. I love the way you describe things, so evocative. The beach is much more enjoyable when it's not as hot and the other bonus is there are often less crowds although not everyone seems to share this view. I hope your boy is enjoying his photography lessons. xx Susan

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  10. Your writing really sets the scene...the sound and feel of the seaside, just as much as your beautiful photos. I love your talent! Are you close to the shore? How I envy you every time I see your pics!

    Jane x

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  11. Beautifully written. I love the UK seaside at any time of year, but perhaps particularly in the colder months. A walk on the beach is one of my favourite days out in winter.

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  12. I'm a fan of the end of season seaside. It has it's own unique charm which you've captured in this post full of the layers that lie in this little but big space.

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  13. Fabulous writing CJ, and you've just described my local beach, especially the faded grandeur. We have a wide, crescent-shaped sweep of a building, it must have been a really swish seafront hotel once upon a time, but now it's all bedsits, grim and damp. I love the beach most in the winter. Your photos are gorgeous too by the way.

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