This is Carlton House, Seaview Terrace, Margate, Kent. It's where I spent a few very happy holidays as a young child, half a century ago! Last year I indulged in a nostalgic day trip there, travelling back in time and memories as well as distance, to remember it as a child, but through the eyes of an adult.
Carlton House, or at least the right hand corner of it, was owned by The Salvation Army back in those days. It was offered as a sort of perk, holidays at budget prices, and eligibility restricted to 'commissioned officers' and their children only. But it offered a whole lot more. It provided a family, friendly holiday environment for people with very similar backgrounds and lifestyles, somewhere where children were guaranteed to make new friends instantly and where adults could relax, secure in the knowledge that their children's safety was a 'given' and that they were (purportedly) mixing with the right crowd!
We lived in London in those days, so it wasn't a lengthy journey, even without the M25 (or perhaps because of it)! But I clearly remember the approach road into Margate. This is probably because my very special parents were always keen to perpetuate the eager anticipation and excitement of their 3 young children in the back of the car. This was achieved by singing lines from the old Irving Berlin song "We joined the navy to see the world, and what did we see, we saw the sea", followed by questions such as 'can you smell the sea yet', all designed to invoke a happy holiday atmosphere and to 'keep us going' during the last stage of the journey.
The same lyrics were heard en route to Margate last year, but, of course, only in my head. However there was visible and audible excitement in the car as we approached Margate town centre, as snatches of hazy recognition somehow found their way through 50 years of memories buried deep in my brain, and flashed before my eyes. Recognition of street corners and junctions, local shops and buildings ... but of one in particular ... Dreamland!
Dreamland opened in 1920 and is home to the oldest operating roller coaster and first recorded amusement park ride, the Scenic Railway. This iconic place quickly became a popular tourist attraction, and by the time I first visited in the 1950s it was already a mecca for the new teenage culture which was emerging in Britain at the time. With popular music hitting our shores and a teenage fashion industry hot on it's heels, young people had their own identity for the first time. And with Dreamland on the scene, they had their own entertainment too. Whilst I didn't fit into the teenage category, I vividly recall the excitement of walking through the entrance 'tunnel', and entering a new and exciting experience, a visual and auditory sensory explosion! The thrills of the Scenic Railway as it rattled round the track on it's wooden structure, the awesome sight and height of the double big wheel, colourful stalls brimming with the promise of prizes, the screams of fear and delight from white knuckle rides, the magic of spinning candy floss machines; all these made Dreamland a very new, special and magical experience for me. It was also the place where my teenage sister first fell in love.
Sadly Dreamland has now closed its doors, and in 2008 the Scenic Railway fell victim to an allegedly suspicious fire, where it was largely destroyed. But like a Phoenix from the Ashes, both the railway and the site are set to rise once again. Following a chequered history of re-sales, re-openings, re-namings, re-invention, removal of rides and regeneration schemes, Dreamland now has the protection of Listed Building status and the sterling support of a National 'Save Dreamland Campaign' (which I must join!).
Margate, like many Victorian British seaside resorts, went through a major decline when cheap air travel, foreign package holidays and guaranteed sun was made available to holiday makers. But now the metaphorical tide seems to be turning on the seafront. On my recent nostalgic trip the central beach was once again alive with day trippers, sun worshippers, family outings, contented children and people taking pleasure in all the traditional attractions of a British resort, from bingo to beach-balls, cockles to cornets, and postcards to paddling.
We walked along what they now call Margate pier (which looks like a jetty), an industrial concrete structure, built as part of the harbour construction in 1810, and now doubling up as a place for artisans to display and sell their arts and crafts. But my childhood memories are of an extensive and impressive Victorian pier, built in 1855 and bizarrely known as the Margate Jetty! Whilst it stood the test of time for 120 years, this once grand wooden structure, like many others around our coast, succumbed to the ravages of fire, in 1978, and is no more!
We then took a walk across the beach, past a colourful and strangely familiar children's swing park (could they really be the same swing-boats and roundabouts I played on in 1957?), past beach volley-ball games, past Asian families chatting in family groups, clad in their beautiful saris whilst knee deep in the sea, past sandcastles, buckets and spades and the boating pond, until we reached the quieter, western end of Margate, and Carlton House.
It was smaller than I remember of course, and smarter, now more 'chic' than shabby. Gone were the coloured lights strung across the (now freshly painted) balconies, but still alive were the memories of going to sleep in a bedroom with a lit-up balcony overlooking the beach! The fuschia bush which had stood guard by the door had long since gone, but the brass plaque identifying 'Carlton House' was still in situ, and it was polished. Whilst taking photos down this memory lane, we were approached by a friendly resident of Carlton House who was intrigued to know why his house was being photographed. After confirming that he knew the history of his house, he informed us that the terrace was now privately owned, but still very much loved, which was music to my ears!
The next half hour was spent indulging in a plethora of memories as I retraced my steps from Carlton House, down the ramp where each day, my metal spade noisily scrapped the concrete as I skipped down the slope and onto the beach, where so many happy days were spent indulging in the simple childhood pleasures of making sand-pies, building sandcastles and paddling in the sea.
A couple of miles up the beach, and half a century later, we arrived at Cliftonville, the east end of Margate. This area was eerily deserted, and showed signs of still suffering from the decline, as if the metaphorical tide had yet to turn. But once more I had a flash of recognition as we walked past the slightly shabby but beautifully located sunken Winter Gardens. With the memory of comedic repartee and audience laughter still ringing in my ears, we left to take one last walk to the harbour, to buy a tray of cockles and mussels for our lunch, and to collect a bag of huge whelks for my collection from the (incredibly pungent) harbour beach, before driving further up the coast.
We intended our next stop to be Herne Bay, as neither of us had been there before. But a few miles before we reached it, a signpost to Reculver Towers caused us to take a small detour to check out a photo opportunity. Reculver was originally a camp and fortification created by the Romans as a station to oversee and protect one mouth of the channel which separated the Isle of Thanet (43 AD) from the mainland. But it functioned again during the 3rd century when Saxon pirates began raiding the region. As early as 210 AD, a fort was built with a 15 foot high wall. The fort is believed to have been abandoned in 410 AD when Roman troops left Britain. In 669 AD, the fort became the site of a Saxon church. St. Mary's Church, as it was called, became a navigational point for sailors, with two prominent towers known as "Twin Sisters". In light of their usefulness, the towers were allowed to remain when, in the 19th century, the church was demolished. Armed with some new historical facts and picturesque photos, we moved on to Herne Bay.
Herne Bay is a quiet little seaside town, which began as a small shipping community, receiving goods and passengers from London en route to Canterbury and Dover. It rose to prominence as a seaside resort during the early 19th century after the building of a pleasure pier and promenade by a group of London investors, and reached its heyday in the late Victorian era. Its popularity as a holiday destination has declined over the past decades, as was the case with Margate, but regular flooding has prevented the town's redevelopment, and therefore it's comeback. However, Herne Bay lays claim to the world's first freestanding purpose-built clock tower built in 1837, and until 1978, the town had the second-longest pier in the UK. It also has what must be one of the longest sea defence jetties in existence, which we can personally vouch for having walked along it from beginning to end! But in it's 'defence' it also provided excellent views over Herne Bay seafront. Our last port of call on the North Kent coastline was to Whitstable, home of the Oyster, and a whole lot more.
Whitstable harbour was built in 1832 by the Canterbury and Whitstable railway company in order to serve the "Crab and Winkle" line, the world's first passenger railway service. The railway has since closed but the harbour still plays an important role in the town's economy. Oysters have been collected in the Whitstable area since at least Roman times, and after a period of decline, the oyster fishery industry is now thriving again, and freshly caught shellfish are available throughout the year at several seafood restaurants and pubs in the town. The harbour fish markets are popular with locals and visitors alike, and a restaurant is also situated in the harbour, ready to serve up the day's catch. We enjoyed such a meal, eating 'al fresco', whilst listening to live music, watching people and drinking in the sights, sounds and smells of this bustling little harbour. There's a small market too, perfect for buying all the things you never realised you needed. A place to feed all your senses.
The Town of Whitstable grew from the main road to Canterbury, now known as the high street, and a network of alley-ways developed as local residents needed greater access to the sea. The multitude of alleys also served as convenient escape routes for smugglers, as Whitstable was, like most Kentish coastal towns, awash with the illegal trade in tobacco and spirits, as well as people during the Napoleonic wars. These alley-ways each have their own histories. for example, Squeeze Gut Alley, once known as Granny Bell's Alley, was so named due to the fact that a grandmother of sixteen children lived there, and the reason for its present title quickly becomes clear as you try to pass through it! The walls on each side loom high and dark as the alley bottle-knecks at the Island Wall end. According to history, the alley way may also have got its name from a game local boys once played with a potentially very unamused overweight policeman who was unable to pursue them through this confined space. Coastguard's alley is where the coastguards built their quarters in an attempt to combat Whitstable's once thriving smuggling trade, and Collar's Alley is where, in the great freeze of 1895, dozens of children would run down every morning to go to Mr Collar's store, where food, cocoa, and warmth were supplied free of charge.
Follow your nose in Whitstable and it will lead you to the sea. Whether you take the main route through the town or enjoy haphazard progress through quiet lanes and alleyways with their eccentric names, you'll end up at the harbour. Here, sailing boats wait for their chance to skim the waves and, from the shelter of the harbour walls, boats prepare for their next mission. I enjoyed my own nostalgic mission in Kent, but it barely scratched the surface of this lovely county.
Carlton House, or at least the right hand corner of it, was owned by The Salvation Army back in those days. It was offered as a sort of perk, holidays at budget prices, and eligibility restricted to 'commissioned officers' and their children only. But it offered a whole lot more. It provided a family, friendly holiday environment for people with very similar backgrounds and lifestyles, somewhere where children were guaranteed to make new friends instantly and where adults could relax, secure in the knowledge that their children's safety was a 'given' and that they were (purportedly) mixing with the right crowd!
We lived in London in those days, so it wasn't a lengthy journey, even without the M25 (or perhaps because of it)! But I clearly remember the approach road into Margate. This is probably because my very special parents were always keen to perpetuate the eager anticipation and excitement of their 3 young children in the back of the car. This was achieved by singing lines from the old Irving Berlin song "We joined the navy to see the world, and what did we see, we saw the sea", followed by questions such as 'can you smell the sea yet', all designed to invoke a happy holiday atmosphere and to 'keep us going' during the last stage of the journey.
The same lyrics were heard en route to Margate last year, but, of course, only in my head. However there was visible and audible excitement in the car as we approached Margate town centre, as snatches of hazy recognition somehow found their way through 50 years of memories buried deep in my brain, and flashed before my eyes. Recognition of street corners and junctions, local shops and buildings ... but of one in particular ... Dreamland!
Dreamland opened in 1920 and is home to the oldest operating roller coaster and first recorded amusement park ride, the Scenic Railway. This iconic place quickly became a popular tourist attraction, and by the time I first visited in the 1950s it was already a mecca for the new teenage culture which was emerging in Britain at the time. With popular music hitting our shores and a teenage fashion industry hot on it's heels, young people had their own identity for the first time. And with Dreamland on the scene, they had their own entertainment too. Whilst I didn't fit into the teenage category, I vividly recall the excitement of walking through the entrance 'tunnel', and entering a new and exciting experience, a visual and auditory sensory explosion! The thrills of the Scenic Railway as it rattled round the track on it's wooden structure, the awesome sight and height of the double big wheel, colourful stalls brimming with the promise of prizes, the screams of fear and delight from white knuckle rides, the magic of spinning candy floss machines; all these made Dreamland a very new, special and magical experience for me. It was also the place where my teenage sister first fell in love.
Sadly Dreamland has now closed its doors, and in 2008 the Scenic Railway fell victim to an allegedly suspicious fire, where it was largely destroyed. But like a Phoenix from the Ashes, both the railway and the site are set to rise once again. Following a chequered history of re-sales, re-openings, re-namings, re-invention, removal of rides and regeneration schemes, Dreamland now has the protection of Listed Building status and the sterling support of a National 'Save Dreamland Campaign' (which I must join!).
Margate, like many Victorian British seaside resorts, went through a major decline when cheap air travel, foreign package holidays and guaranteed sun was made available to holiday makers. But now the metaphorical tide seems to be turning on the seafront. On my recent nostalgic trip the central beach was once again alive with day trippers, sun worshippers, family outings, contented children and people taking pleasure in all the traditional attractions of a British resort, from bingo to beach-balls, cockles to cornets, and postcards to paddling.
We walked along what they now call Margate pier (which looks like a jetty), an industrial concrete structure, built as part of the harbour construction in 1810, and now doubling up as a place for artisans to display and sell their arts and crafts. But my childhood memories are of an extensive and impressive Victorian pier, built in 1855 and bizarrely known as the Margate Jetty! Whilst it stood the test of time for 120 years, this once grand wooden structure, like many others around our coast, succumbed to the ravages of fire, in 1978, and is no more!
We then took a walk across the beach, past a colourful and strangely familiar children's swing park (could they really be the same swing-boats and roundabouts I played on in 1957?), past beach volley-ball games, past Asian families chatting in family groups, clad in their beautiful saris whilst knee deep in the sea, past sandcastles, buckets and spades and the boating pond, until we reached the quieter, western end of Margate, and Carlton House.
It was smaller than I remember of course, and smarter, now more 'chic' than shabby. Gone were the coloured lights strung across the (now freshly painted) balconies, but still alive were the memories of going to sleep in a bedroom with a lit-up balcony overlooking the beach! The fuschia bush which had stood guard by the door had long since gone, but the brass plaque identifying 'Carlton House' was still in situ, and it was polished. Whilst taking photos down this memory lane, we were approached by a friendly resident of Carlton House who was intrigued to know why his house was being photographed. After confirming that he knew the history of his house, he informed us that the terrace was now privately owned, but still very much loved, which was music to my ears!
The next half hour was spent indulging in a plethora of memories as I retraced my steps from Carlton House, down the ramp where each day, my metal spade noisily scrapped the concrete as I skipped down the slope and onto the beach, where so many happy days were spent indulging in the simple childhood pleasures of making sand-pies, building sandcastles and paddling in the sea.
A couple of miles up the beach, and half a century later, we arrived at Cliftonville, the east end of Margate. This area was eerily deserted, and showed signs of still suffering from the decline, as if the metaphorical tide had yet to turn. But once more I had a flash of recognition as we walked past the slightly shabby but beautifully located sunken Winter Gardens. With the memory of comedic repartee and audience laughter still ringing in my ears, we left to take one last walk to the harbour, to buy a tray of cockles and mussels for our lunch, and to collect a bag of huge whelks for my collection from the (incredibly pungent) harbour beach, before driving further up the coast.
We intended our next stop to be Herne Bay, as neither of us had been there before. But a few miles before we reached it, a signpost to Reculver Towers caused us to take a small detour to check out a photo opportunity. Reculver was originally a camp and fortification created by the Romans as a station to oversee and protect one mouth of the channel which separated the Isle of Thanet (43 AD) from the mainland. But it functioned again during the 3rd century when Saxon pirates began raiding the region. As early as 210 AD, a fort was built with a 15 foot high wall. The fort is believed to have been abandoned in 410 AD when Roman troops left Britain. In 669 AD, the fort became the site of a Saxon church. St. Mary's Church, as it was called, became a navigational point for sailors, with two prominent towers known as "Twin Sisters". In light of their usefulness, the towers were allowed to remain when, in the 19th century, the church was demolished. Armed with some new historical facts and picturesque photos, we moved on to Herne Bay.
Herne Bay is a quiet little seaside town, which began as a small shipping community, receiving goods and passengers from London en route to Canterbury and Dover. It rose to prominence as a seaside resort during the early 19th century after the building of a pleasure pier and promenade by a group of London investors, and reached its heyday in the late Victorian era. Its popularity as a holiday destination has declined over the past decades, as was the case with Margate, but regular flooding has prevented the town's redevelopment, and therefore it's comeback. However, Herne Bay lays claim to the world's first freestanding purpose-built clock tower built in 1837, and until 1978, the town had the second-longest pier in the UK. It also has what must be one of the longest sea defence jetties in existence, which we can personally vouch for having walked along it from beginning to end! But in it's 'defence' it also provided excellent views over Herne Bay seafront. Our last port of call on the North Kent coastline was to Whitstable, home of the Oyster, and a whole lot more.
Whitstable harbour was built in 1832 by the Canterbury and Whitstable railway company in order to serve the "Crab and Winkle" line, the world's first passenger railway service. The railway has since closed but the harbour still plays an important role in the town's economy. Oysters have been collected in the Whitstable area since at least Roman times, and after a period of decline, the oyster fishery industry is now thriving again, and freshly caught shellfish are available throughout the year at several seafood restaurants and pubs in the town. The harbour fish markets are popular with locals and visitors alike, and a restaurant is also situated in the harbour, ready to serve up the day's catch. We enjoyed such a meal, eating 'al fresco', whilst listening to live music, watching people and drinking in the sights, sounds and smells of this bustling little harbour. There's a small market too, perfect for buying all the things you never realised you needed. A place to feed all your senses.
The Town of Whitstable grew from the main road to Canterbury, now known as the high street, and a network of alley-ways developed as local residents needed greater access to the sea. The multitude of alleys also served as convenient escape routes for smugglers, as Whitstable was, like most Kentish coastal towns, awash with the illegal trade in tobacco and spirits, as well as people during the Napoleonic wars. These alley-ways each have their own histories. for example, Squeeze Gut Alley, once known as Granny Bell's Alley, was so named due to the fact that a grandmother of sixteen children lived there, and the reason for its present title quickly becomes clear as you try to pass through it! The walls on each side loom high and dark as the alley bottle-knecks at the Island Wall end. According to history, the alley way may also have got its name from a game local boys once played with a potentially very unamused overweight policeman who was unable to pursue them through this confined space. Coastguard's alley is where the coastguards built their quarters in an attempt to combat Whitstable's once thriving smuggling trade, and Collar's Alley is where, in the great freeze of 1895, dozens of children would run down every morning to go to Mr Collar's store, where food, cocoa, and warmth were supplied free of charge.
Follow your nose in Whitstable and it will lead you to the sea. Whether you take the main route through the town or enjoy haphazard progress through quiet lanes and alleyways with their eccentric names, you'll end up at the harbour. Here, sailing boats wait for their chance to skim the waves and, from the shelter of the harbour walls, boats prepare for their next mission. I enjoyed my own nostalgic mission in Kent, but it barely scratched the surface of this lovely county.
Unfogettable Margate !!!!!!!!!!!
ReplyDeleteI am a local resident in Margate, and I must say you have captured it's beauty. Thank you
ReplyDelete