A combination of warm weather, best described as a”mini-heatwave”, and of lockdown “blues” prompted thousands of Brits to descend upon the beaches of southern England on Thursday, 25 June 2020. On that particular day, an overwhelmed Bournemouth, Christchurch and Poole Council ended up declaring a “major incident”. But the day’s events should not have come as a surprise. A precedent had already been set on Bank Holiday Monday, 26 May 2020, when the seafront car parks at Bournemouth had filled up by 12 mid-day, and the same local council was advising residents to “think twice” before deciding to visit the beach.
It is easy to understand the desperation of locked-down people during the summer holiday season, especially at a time when foreign travel to sunnier destinations has been curtailed so severely. However, while many forms of social interaction are discouraged, discretionary public sunbathing is something you can still do legally. Prime Minister Boris Johnson had advised those of us who live in England, as far back as Sunday, 10 May, that from Wednesday, 13 May onwards, you could either “sit in the sun in your local park” or you could “drive to other destinations” to sunbathe, if you so desired. With this official pronouncement from the nation’s leader, and guided by British “common sense” as well as a less definable “community spirit”, many free-spirited people accordingly made their way, roughly around the same time, to reap the benefits of some short-lived good weather conditions. There was a caveat: people had to judge for themselves whether the beach they were visiting was, in fact, a “high-risk” area, from which they had to voluntarily depart, directly upon recognition.
The situation at Bournemouth on 25 June was of particular concern, although many other resorts along the south coast and in south-eastern England were noticing similar trends. A large volume of incoming traffic led to congestion on the roads. Car parks filled up in no time. Illegal parking of cars, especially on double yellow lines, led to interminable gridlocks and displays of bad car etiquette. Those who managed to park somehow, or alternatively arrived by public transport, then proceeded to occupy every single available spot on the beaches. Individual territories were marked out, with the help of beach towels, deck chairs, umbrella stands and even tents for overnight stopovers. Social distancing was quickly forgotten in the hustle and bustle of things.
People then proceeded to lie down in the sun, in the direct line of the sun’s rays. White bits of skin quickly turned pink or even red. Much flabby flesh was on display. Some people ventured into the sea to cool down. Others were very thirsty, and some ravenously hungry. Bottles and cans of beer and cider were opened, and the contents of bags and boxes of takeaways and other pre-packed foods were emptied out. Alcohol-fuelled fights and other forms of anti-social behaviour broke out. There were reports of stabbings. “Mountains” of rubbish piled up. People urinated in public- on the streets and in private gardens. By the end of the day, 993 fixed-penalty parking enforcement fines had been issued. Council workers and volunteers, many of whom were taunted by onlookers, then disposed of an estimated fifty tonnes of waste left along the promenade and on the beaches. Thus came to an end another day of jollity in the sun.
In Britain, you are never more than seventy miles away from the sea. Not unnaturally, visits to the seaside have become something of a national pastime. However, since the 1960s, easy air travel and cheap all-inclusive package holidays have meant that more and more people choose to travel further away to places where the conditions are more predictable and the weather is generally warmer. This change of heart has thereby led to declining trade along the British coastline.
British folks were not always enamoured of the sea as a travel destination. It was only in the 18th and 19th centuries that the health benefits of seaside air drew increasing numbers of people to the beaches of the British Isles. The seaside holiday really took off during the 20th century. From the 1920s and 1930s onwards, hordes of working-class people began to flock to popular seaside resorts, such as Blackpool, Bournemouth, Brighton, and Margate, for their annual summer holidays. There was no looking back thereafter.
The British seaside holiday was generally a prim and decorous affair, and its pleasures would appear rather innocent to the more demanding holidaymakers of today. Seaside towns then had a certain appeal and character, complete with an infrastructure of promenades, pleasure piers, amusement arcades, fairgrounds, and beach huts. Some resorts even had large holiday camps, with such familiar names as Butlin’s and Pontin’s. There were donkey rides, dodgem cars, Punch and Judy shows, fortune tellers-all kinds of distractions. Young people, and their older companions, could build sandcastles or bury themselves in the sand. You could forego healthy eating and fill up on candyfloss, fudge, rock, fish and chips, cockles and whelks, 99 ice creams, and the like. In the evenings, you had the choice of pubs, bingo halls, dance floors, variety shows, cinema screenings, and theatre and opera for the discerning. Some upscale resorts had bandstands, set within landscaped grounds, for public musical performances. All the while, many photos were taken, and saucy postcards filled in and sent out to friends and family. The whole experience was, for many, the best time of the entire year.
Fast forward to the 21st century. Many of Britain’s seaside towns display a kind of faded glory, sometimes charitably described as “shabby chic”. There are many social problems-those of unemployment, broken families, illicit drug use, and high levels of crime. The entertainment on offer is frequently limited to games arcades, drinking pubs, “casinos”, and seedy nightclubs. Alcohol freely lubricates the evening proceedings. As a result, seaside towns may take on an unfriendly and somewhat menacing look at night. Nowadays, you are more likely to find family-friendly resorts on the Spanish Costas, on the Algarve and many destinations further away than along the British coast.
The Coronavirus pandemic may bring certain unintended benefits. The British seaside can expect a revival, especially when the weather is good, and even when it isn’t. Remember the black-and-white images of stoical holidaymakers of the past, seated unsmiling, in rain-sodden seaside resorts? Given a certain continuing level of demand, there should be no shortage of visitors. The current mass invasions of the seaside by Brits, intent on having a good time, could well be harnessed to the benefit of the nation’s economy. It may be, however, that both day-trippers and more serious holidaymakers will need a bit of harnessing of their own.
Ashis Banerjee