This poem was presented as part of a collection for the 2016 Koestler awards during my stay at HMP Highpoint. It reflects upon the decline of British seaside towns that flourished as holiday destinations from Victorian times up to the arrival of cut price air fares to Spain. From the early seventies onwards, many small hotels were turned into social housing, supplied to meet the needs of London Boroughs for those on social security benefits that did not need to live in London, where the cost of real estate for the local authorities became prohibitive. Of course, those living there all year round had to learn to live with a certain rugged beauty of grey skies and seas and those tourists visiting and braving the weather out of season. Hopefully this poem will also evoke some memories.
Song of the Seaside
Breaking seas on promenade walls
Sounds of silvery seagulls’ calls
Flotsam on the grey-brown beach
Sheltering ships beyond the reach
Of gale-force gusts beneath wintery skies
That will the waters’ waves to rise
The sailors on brave battered boats
Glimpse grey-green where the jetsam floats
Deliver to diverse destinations
Produce to ports from unknown nations
Unseen cargoes, dark days and nights
Witnessed by the vessels’ lights
Couples stride along the strand
Hardy souls, dogs’ leads in hand
Clothed in coat and hood or hat
No trace remains where children sat
Their hounds run free along the sands
No ice-cream vendors or military bands
Winter wreaks its weather well
Aspects altered by the ocean swell
This seems to be a different place
As if humans here were a different race
Lovers of air, the fresh and pure
Taking a traditional seaside cure
Birds’ nests along the cliff face grow
Chalky rocks white as winter snow
From whence other walkers may look down
Keeping close to the grey and ageing town
That used to be a beauty blessed
To Londoners taking a well-earned rest
Now dishevelled shops are closed or grim
Where status seekers kept fit and trim
Hotels converted to social apartments
For the great unwanted, rejected like garments
No more catering to the middle classes
Now watering holes for one-day passes
As cut-price fares fly to foreign seas
Those that our seaside sought to please
Here is developed the low-cost town
A seaside contribution to dumbing down
Where price of product determines choice
And arguments are won by the loudest voice
The beauty of the seaside lost
We may all live to count the cost
Of short-term planning and speculation
A source of shame to a sea-faring nation
Even when the sun has day-long shone
The seaside’s attraction has all but gone