As I sat on the train, heading away from the dirt, noise and overall angst that is London the relief I felt, the calmness that began to pervade my soul was palpable; I was on my way back home to Brighton and its cosmopolitan vigour, its exceptional cafés and seafood restaurants, its general friendliness and sense of cool style. As we neared the coast I happened upon an article by Joan Smith, generally an all round sensible and articulate columnist who, besides being a little bit too feminist for her own good, generally makes sense.
Her article was flawed from the beginning and sadly started to sound like to sort of middle class rant generally better handled by The Sun (you can always count on Kelvin to make you understand that politics isn’t the only home of idiots, they can make it in journalism too). Don’t get me wrong, in one sense her assertion that British Seaside towns were pretty depressing and past their sell by date, held some resonance- her inclusion of Brighton in this astounded me. The sad passing of Hastings’ Pier at the hands of two firestarters, whose link to the owner will no doubt come out in time, was a shame but Hastings has been off the tourist route for years and is rather sad and decaying (it is however the world centre for crazy golf I am told). But Ms Smith decided to include Blackpool and Brighton in her rant and there her column turned from measured observation to upper middle class rant (a surprise given her true status as the wife of a Labour MP).
Don’t get me wrong, everybody is entitled to their opinion but when it is based on the premis that “I don’t like it so nobody should” they stray into the kind of ‘blue rinse’ territory that is best kept within the Red Tops. She failed to observe for instance that Blackpool still gets more Brit visitors every year than the horrible, dusty over developed Costa del Sol, she also failed to observe that lots of people like to take their holidays away from rude, depressed and inept Spanish waiters and quite like the glitter, noise and vibrancy of Blackpool; perhaps she assumed none of those people read The Independent.
A little aghast at her comments about Blackpool I was then truly lost by her description of Brighton as being a place where you cannot escape “the pervasive smell of frying fat, as though there is an unbreakable link between the seaside, fast food and cafés with formica tables”. Here I felt I should take the advice of the ‘Big Society’ Cameronites and tell it like it is – Ms Smith you are a liar if you say you have been to Brighton recently and that was how it looked to you.
As the train pulled into my beloved Brighton I almost felt like apologising for her crassness, her lack of awareness of a city which is clean, almost totally absent of slot machines and nasty Cafes but does, by contrast, have an incredible vibrancy, a cosmopolitan and bohemian philosophy that London can only dream about, excellent restaurants and cafés and a refreshing absence of violence (apart from at the weekend when Londoners come down here and, corralled into three streets, punch each other’s lights out).
But then I realised that such an apology was not needed. Ms Smith has been nowhere near Brighton given her comments, she is one of those journalists who can’t stand it when the detail of actual facts get in the way of her arguments, and that is something for which she should apologise, not me. I am from the North of England, from Bradford to be precise, and I saw the devastation reaped upon our two major cities Manchester and Leeds by Maggie and Norm as they tried to turn the Labour heartland into the third world. They succeeded but years of movement away from our dirty Capital have allowed those cities to thrive; but not Bradford unfortunately which is on its knees ready for the next good kicking it will now receive from the ConDems. I was lucky enough to get out and could have chosen anywhere to live. I chose Brighton and I love it. I also love Blackpool for its honesty and sense of fun – can’t stand Hampstead though as pretentious fools tend to wind me up.
So I extend an invitation to Ms Smith to come and visit Brighton and we will search together for the slot machines and Formica, we will find some, but no more than in any town or city in Britain (God bless McDonalds and KFC) but we will find unpretentious cafés who sell fresh fish, some very cool shops and a seafront with style and a sense of identity sadly lacking elsewhere.
I used to live in Biarritz, a once grand, now empty and sad little place full of To Let boards and the grumpiest French citizens you’ll ever find and I was is Sitges last year where the beachfront cafés have lots of fresh fish but not one decent cook between them. There are great seaside cities abroad (San Sebastian is quite splendid) but none have the enduring sense of occasion that British ones can give.
Finally she cites her unresearched and inaccurate piece as the reason why the major political parties chose to leave the seaside this year and head for major cities with” cosmopolitan boutique hotels and purpose built conference centres”; well they would hardy come to Brighton would they – we have a Green Party MP, and Eastbourne is now way too ubber cool to host sad men in suits. As for Blackpool I’m sure it will welcome the Labour Party in years to come. Instead the LibDems chose Liverpool with a sense of irony only that party could achieve, no doubt they all left the purpose built conference centre and turned sharp right as going left would have sent them into Everton, one of the countries poorest areas where their proposed cuts will devastate a whole community. Labour picked Manchester, a city they revitalised and the Conservatives headed for Birmingham – a city that still should have cones round it and big signs saying Danger Hole In the World.
A week in Blackpool is never forgotten, one in Spain or Basque France is best forgotten. The only thing I could agree with her about was that I too could never see David Cameron walking down Blackpool seafront, well not without armed body guards anyway!
No comments:
Post a Comment