rayge
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Post by rayge on Aug 27, 2023 9:24:28 GMT
I get what they are saying completely. I was part of the last, or nearly last, generation for whom a week - even a day - at the seaside was the peak of adventure. I remember the Kursaal in Southend, and Dreamland in Margate as destinations when I was a pre-teen; went to caravan parks and holiday camps around the south of England with my parents and other family members, and enjoyed the grey romance of out of season resorts when I was a student in East Kent. And as a fully functioning (more or less) adult with a growing interest in photography, Romanticism, and architectural and cultural history, I enjoyed them even more: it helped that several of my best mates from college grew up in, or set up homes near, the coast - or right on it in the contrasting shapes of Aberystwyth, Dawlish, Bournemouth and Brighton, so I could explore places at my leisure, and get a feel for the sense of place, underpinned by fading memories of the wonder of otherness from my childhood. Moving to the West country with Chip, I got to know better Portishead and Weston-Super-Mare, both of which I'd visited as a kid with my parents and my aunt and uncle who lived in Bristol and actually had a car, as well as Sidmouth, Lyme Regis and Torbay, faded Victorian gentility overlaid with neon and tack. And in the 30 years we were together, Chip and I always holidayed in England or Wales, exploring the South West and North-east, mainly, as b=well as Dumries and Galloway in Scotland. I think I've visited every major resort in England, bar Blackpool.
Anyways, I thought I would start this thread as a place for me to dump some of my photos, and the odd memory (got to walk the dog now, but I'll be back, but I'd also like to hear from anyone else who had a relationship with their own coast that didn't involve airplanes, wherever they grew up. Of course, in Britain it helps that you are never more than a hundred miles or so from the sea, and the proportion of coastline to inland is much higher than in many non-island countries, but I'd be interested to hear about other countries, too.
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Post by DarknessFish on Aug 27, 2023 11:27:01 GMT
Shit usage of pictures again, that's The Big One at Blackpool, which is very much not 100 years old, rather than The Big Dipper.
Anyway, yeah, being from a proper working class family, all my childhood holidays were to British seaside towns. Llandudno was a regular holiday as a kid (and surely the last major old-fashioned holiday resort in the north), we did Skegness, Scarborough, Ayr, Newquay, Minehead, etc. Some of those being Butlins holidays, which surely increases my working class credentials. As an adult, we've been to Whitby and Alnmouth multiple times, and me and the missus would rather do the North East Coast than go abroad for a holiday, generally, it's just a beautiful place, with lots of heritage.
The seaside has always been a big part of my life. I work in Southport, we visit at weekends quite often, although the sea can rarely be seen. I walk the dog quite often around Crosby beach (Anthony Gormley's Another Place is a wonderful work of art, btw), and we often visit Lytham, which is a lovely little town down the road from Blackpool, more estuary than seaside, perhaps. I'd love to see the music festival there, I just cant see how such a big event can take place in such a small town.
But yeah, being by the seaside is generally better than not being by the sea. Whether enjoying a cool breeze on the Great Orme looking out to the Isle of Man, or being battered by the wind and rain, as huge waves drench the Blackpool promenade. Its all good. I've even enjoyed Morecambe on occasion.
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Post by fonz on Aug 27, 2023 18:13:09 GMT
I love being by the sea in Bournemouth/Poo-hole. Rarely visit the beach, but I like being close to the sea. The proximity has a constant and almost insistent suggestion of possibilities for travel and adventure. .the infinite horizon
The old-fashioned seaside vibe is all but snuffed out down here. The only way this place will survive is by evolving beyond that nostalgic fixation on ‘end of the pier’ entertainment etc
C21 etc
There’s growth in financial services and students. That’s it.
Lovely place though
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Post by Deleted on Aug 28, 2023 11:41:27 GMT
Was never really a big seaside fan when my parents took a notion to bring us as kids. I couldn't swim, and once you built a sandcastle, there was fuck all else to do. Suppose the ice cream was a treat.
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rayge
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Post by rayge on Aug 28, 2023 15:49:07 GMT
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rayge
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Post by rayge on Aug 28, 2023 15:58:39 GMT
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Post by tory on Aug 29, 2023 7:12:29 GMT
Brighton had a faded glamour for me as a boy. I remember vividly the descent down London Road and seeing the sea; that glimpse of something exotic and exciting, which for a lad born in Croydon was something. My mother hated the place; she harboured strange grudges and it only came about because she twisted her ankle on a kerb near one of the Chinese restaurants in the Lanes when I was about 8 or so. After that, she vowed to never go there again, just as she didn't speak to her brother for 15 years after he said "you're bloody lucky to go to Greece" when she announced our first foreign holiday.
As a teenager, I would go down for the day with £20 or so on a 45 minute train from East Croydon with school mate Barney, and we'd waste the lot of it in the arcades that punctuated the seafront and pier playing classics such as Bubble Bobble, Commando et al, furiously pumping in 10p pieces amidst the sound of low-bit glaring electronic sounds. We'd then finish it off with fish and chips on the seafront, probably eaten sitting on a concrete step.
Now Brighton is a hip and increasingly expensive place. Most of the houses near the seafront in Hove are probably worth at least a million, if not two, home to people who can sustain themselves in design jobs working remotely. Brighton itself is a curious hybrid of gentrified glamour juxtaposed with fading remnants of crustified squalour. You can see the Crusticus Britannicus if you have a keen eye, but they are losing their toehold in the city. Once so prevalent around Trafalgar and Sydney Street, the susurrus of baristas and expensive vintage shops in the lanes now serves to keep them away. If you're lucky, you might see a little cluster of Modus Desperatus Wellerissimus, down from the suburbs to eek out what cultural and nostalgic juice is left of the alley from Quadrophenia and to flick through Sergio Tacchini polo shirts.
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Post by oh oooh on Aug 29, 2023 8:10:35 GMT
eke
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