I do rather love a day trip to the British coast and Cromer in Norfolk is a classic seaside destination. You can’t ignore the kitsch irony of an English beach on a dark and cloudy autumnal day. The idea of optimism and fun is there, but everyone is freezing, unexcited and most probably parked up eating chips in their car whilst watching the sea. Decayed and disused rides, battered ice cream shacks, abandoned benches and grey skies. In the amusement arcades; the polar opposite, bright flashing colour, neon glowing, clashing sounds of the machines, forced fun, mini bursts of excitement under the stained ceiling tiles and strip lights. So British, so charming in it’s dilapidated state. Much as I love the kitsch beauty of these kinda places, I also find them ever so bleak, they smack of realism, weathered folk queuing in their wheelchairs for hot chips, obese dogs being carried by their equally overfed owners, plastic flowers in the misted up cafe windows and shops selling sun-faded souvenirs of their town. I love the tone of faded beauty in places like this, I love the neon boneyard in Vegas, I love Coney Island, I love Blackpool….but by gosh, I’m glad I can choose not to live in those places, I couldn’t take the extremes of seasons, the burst of people in the summer, followed by the neglect of winter. It is those extremes that make these seaside towns so wistful and austere. It’s like life and death happens to the town every year. When the sun shines down on this little town, it’s the cutest darn thing, it just seems to die a little when the sun stops shining.
