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Post by ripper on Jul 1, 2014 13:24:11 GMT
I remember the arm wrestlers that were dotted around, but I think the only ones I saw were generic i.e. no recognizable figures, or even just the arm itself with no upper body.
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Post by andydecker on Jul 2, 2014 10:40:01 GMT
There are so many movies and stories about this topic; sometimes I have the impression it is mandatory for british horror writers to write at least one story about seaside resorts. I am honestly curious: what was so memorable about them?
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Post by franklinmarsh on Jul 2, 2014 11:13:55 GMT
Britain's quite a small island, Andy. You're never far from the seaside. Not sure if it still applies in the new millenium, but a trip to the seaside, whether a day out or a week-long holiday would have been a fairly major event in a lot of childhoods. I still get a buzz travelling to those faded run-down resorts, and looking out at the grey, roiling sea. It kind of frees up the Brits to roll up their trouser-legs, put knotted handkerchiefs on their heads and paddle in the freezing water whilst pigging down an ice cream. Fish 'n' chips always taste a bit better by the sea.
There's also far more chance of sex and violence on a bank holiday.
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Post by Jojo Lapin X on Jul 2, 2014 11:16:00 GMT
I have the impression it is mandatory for british horror writers to write at least one story about seaside resorts. I am honestly curious: what was so memorable about them? The very idea of English beach resorts.
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Post by ripper on Jul 3, 2014 11:18:14 GMT
I think Franklin summed it up pretty well. I can remember so clearly the excitement of waking up on the morning when our annual week's holiday to the seaside would begin. It was, together with Christmas and your birthday, the highlight of the year. Sitting on the sea wall eating fish and chips (they do taste better at the seaside as FM said), making sand castles on the beach, donkey rides, the smell of the sea, picking postcards from those racks outside newsagents to send to relatives, walking along the pier and seeing the sea through gaps in the wooden planking under your feet, hiring deckchairs, looking for crabs in rock pools, running into the cold sea--it was always cold even in summer, feeding the penny bandits in the amusement arcades, buying sticks of rock with little b+w pictures of the resort adhering to them as presents to take home, and so many more memories that last a lifetime.
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Post by weirdmonger on Jul 3, 2014 11:31:35 GMT
I think Franklin summed it up pretty well. I can remember so clearly the excitement of waking up on the morning when our annual week's holiday to the seaside would begin. It was, together with Christmas and your birthday, the highlight of the year. Sitting on the sea wall eating fish and chips (they do taste better at the seaside as FM said), making sand castles on the beach, donkey rides, the smell of the sea, picking postcards from those racks outside newsagents to send to relatives, walking along the pier and seeing the sea through gaps in the wooden planking under your feet, hiring deckchairs, looking for crabs in rock pools, running into the cold sea--it was always cold even in summer, feeding the penny bandits in the amusement arcades, buying sticks of rock with little b+w pictures of the resort adhering to them as presents to take home, and so many more memories that last a lifetime. Thanks for that. Living in the seaside resort of Clacton for the last 20 years and, having been born in such a resort over sixty six years ago and living there till I was 7, it never loses that sense of nostalgia and its durable novelty power even today that has not really changed.
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Post by pulphack on Jul 4, 2014 7:34:20 GMT
Can't really add much to what FM and Ripper said, except to echo it - possibly the late 70's onwards and cheap package holidays changed things, but for generations of British young, the annual pilgrimage to the seaside was a massive life event, and the way these resorts evolved has certainly implanted a certain mindset in those of us who experienced it. The seaside resort in winter - being in London, daytrips to Southend could occur at any time - has a certain grim magnificence all its own. I'd imagine it is an island thing, which is why those Vaulters in mainland Europe, the USA or Aus may be baffled by our clinging to the cultural significance of the stick of rock and the machines that gobbled your pennies for a few quick thrills.
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Post by Johnlprobert on Jul 4, 2014 7:49:40 GMT
I'm definitely of the 'we're going to enjoy the seaside even if it's pouring down' generation. While my schoolfriends got dragged off to Malta or Spain once a year, the Probert family spent it in a rain-lashed caravan in West Wales. I well remember one particular time we ended up on the beach wearing heavy black wellington boots and wrapped up to the nines because it was so cold. But it was June, we were on holiday, and damn it we were going to go on the bloody beach. And the joys of table tennis in damp-smelling recreation rooms while we hoped the rain would let up a bit. There were no bats & we had to rent a ball from the scary old lady in the hut at the front of the park, but we found a couple of pieces of chipped plywood to play with. The iphone generation would never believe it.
Fish and chips DO taste better in the bizarre blend of being outside in imminently rainy weather. I guess the suspense had something to do with it. And the soap opera drama (fights, violent relationship break-ups etc) was never far away.
Later on in my life I went to Blackpool wearing a pink pirate's costume and a frilly shirt by mistake as part of a stag do. There are some things you should do only once, and perhaps not even then. Needless to say I saw a slightly different side of seaside towns to Wales in the rain.
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Post by redbrain on Jul 4, 2014 9:44:16 GMT
I'm definitely of the 'we're going to enjoy the seaside even if it's pouring down' generation. While my schoolfriends got dragged off to Malta or Spain once a year, the Probert family spent it in a rain-lashed caravan in West Wales. I well remember one particular time we ended up on the beach wearing heavy black wellington boots and wrapped up to the nines because it was so cold. But it was June, we were on holiday, and damn it we were going to go on the bloody beach. And the joys of table tennis in damp-smelling recreation rooms while we hoped the rain would let up a bit. There were no bats & we had to rent a ball from the scary old lady in the hut at the front of the park, but we found a couple of pieces of chipped plywood to play with. The iphone generation would never believe it. Fish and chips DO taste better in the bizarre blend of being outside in imminently rainy weather. I guess the suspense had something to do with it. And the soap opera drama (fights, violent relationship break-ups etc) was never far away. Later on in my life I went to Blackpool wearing a pink pirate's costume and a frilly shirt by mistake as part of a stag do. There are some things you should do only once, and perhaps not even then. Needless to say I saw a slightly different side of seaside towns to Wales in the rain. That shows a very proper attitude, which I applaud wholeheartedly. In fact, the seaside is at its best when it's pouring down. Not going to the bloody beach, when people are on holiday, just because it's cold? What kind of nonsense, what kind of poltroonery is that? Bah to the age in which we now have the misfortune to live! And of course fish and chips do taste better eaten outside in the rain. As to the "damp-smelling recreation rooms", may I surmise that they smelt a bit like PE changing rooms? Blackpool most certainly needs more pink pirates. Good on you! Oh, and you refer to your "schoolfriends". "School Friend" was, of course, the UK's first girls' comic. It ran from 1950 to 1965, when it was merged with "June". It remained on the "June" masthead for quite a long while thereafter as "June and School Friend".
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Post by Craig Herbertson on Jul 4, 2014 20:59:31 GMT
I'm definitely of the 'we're going to enjoy the seaside even if it's pouring down' generation. While my schoolfriends got dragged off to Malta or Spain once a year, the Probert family spent it in a rain-lashed caravan in West Wales. I well remember one particular time we ended up on the beach wearing heavy black wellington boots and wrapped up to the nines because it was so cold. But it was June, we were on holiday, and damn it we were going to go on the bloody beach. And the joys of table tennis in damp-smelling recreation rooms while we hoped the rain would let up a bit. There were no bats & we had to rent a ball from the scary old lady in the hut at the front of the park, but we found a couple of pieces of chipped plywood to play with. The iphone generation would never believe it. Fish and chips DO taste better in the bizarre blend of being outside in imminently rainy weather. I guess the suspense had something to do with it. And the soap opera drama (fights, violent relationship break-ups etc) was never far away. Later on in my life I went to Blackpool wearing a pink pirate's costume and a frilly shirt by mistake as part of a stag do. There are some things you should do only once, and perhaps not even then. Needless to say I saw a slightly different side of seaside towns to Wales in the rain. Lord Probert nails it. It was a mix of built up expectations of a 'summer' holiday; rain that would outdo a monsoon, with just a couple of glimmers of sunlight which were made a thousand times better by the adversity.
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Post by jamesdoig on Jul 4, 2014 21:28:09 GMT
I'm definitely of the 'we're going to enjoy the seaside even if it's pouring down' generation. Lord Probert nails it. It was a mix of built up expectations of a 'summer' holiday; rain that would outdo a monsoon, with just a couple of glimmers of sunlight which were made a thousand times better by the adversity. Oh you poor pommy bastards! Why don't you come and live in a country where it's so hot you need footwear to cross the beach to get to the water. Of course there is the small matter of sharks, snakes, blue-ringed octopuses, jellyfish and so on...
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Post by pulphack on Jul 5, 2014 18:53:12 GMT
Ah, no snake could ever match the joy of sitting in a beach hut watching the rain lash the beach while the skies out to sea got darker and darker, and wondering if it was worth a dash to the ice cream kiosk. Also, the Punch&Judy man ALWAYS clocked on, regardless: a real trouper. Try and catch Tony Hancock's 'Punch & Judy Man' is possible - that sums up the British seaside experience as well as Lord P!
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Post by ripper on Jul 5, 2014 19:41:05 GMT
Seeing the Punch and Judy man do his stuff was an absolute must for any seaside holiday when you were a kid. Sun or rain, as Pulphack said, he would be there, and so would his young audience. I think that it is traditional that all Punch and Judy men are called "Professor." The last time I saw one was around 2000. They used to be quite common, or at least they seemed to be, as there would invariably be one somewhere along the front at resorts up and down the country, but I don't know if it is so easy to catch a show nowadays.
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elricc
Devils Coach Horse
Posts: 100
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Post by elricc on Jul 7, 2014 18:32:10 GMT
I live between two really different seaside towns, one very rundown and full of faded grandeur and the other very Chelsea on Sea. what continues to fascinate me is the people who frequent them. I think there is still that feeling in the run down one of people letting their guard down, we're on holiday attitude, leading to some grotesque sights. While in the other it's all parading for effect, look I can afford to holiday here. In the winter I love both, bleak, with their own type of beauty. I live in quite an ordinary village with a few caravan sites dotted round, when the last arcade shut down my son bought two 70's penny machines for £10, very strange feeling having them in your house
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Post by Shrink Proof on Jul 7, 2014 20:14:38 GMT
I live between two really different seaside towns, one very rundown and full of faded grandeur and the other very Chelsea on Sea. what continues to fascinate me is the people who frequent them. I think there is still that feeling in the run down one of people letting their guard down, we're on holiday attitude, leading to some grotesque sights. While in the other it's all parading for effect, look I can afford to holiday here. In the winter I love both, bleak, with their own type of beauty. As a fellow seaside dweller I can relate to that. The faded Victorian grandeur, the grotesque sights and yes, the place out of season are all quite something...
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