Alright, everyone, let’s take a stroll down memory lane—well, not literally down a lane, since I’m writing and you’re reading, but you get the picture. Picture a classic British seaside resort, all decked out in its Victorian glory. Yep, we’re talking about the heyday of long, languorous summer days by the coast, where folks traded their stuffy city lives for salty air and sand between their toes. Today, I’m here to share my cheeky little adventure to the UK’s seaside resorts—because, let’s face it, who doesn’t need a dose of Victorian escapism every now and then?
Let’s start with a place not too far from London: Brighton. Now, I won’t bore you with the basics—everyone knows about Brighton Pier and its glittering amusements. But what about those hidden gems? After a rather regrettable cup of tea at a so-called “quaint” café (seriously, who brews Earl Grey with milk? I mean, really?), I found a delightful little antique shop called "Sandy’s Nook." Think funky knick-knacks and one-of-a-kind trinkets. I snagged a wax seal stamp, feeling terribly classy, until I realised I had no idea how to use it. Oh well, that’s future me’s problem.
Brighton is bursting with life, with its artsy vibe and kooky shops. Wander down the Lanes, and you’ll spot street performers, and maybe one of those buskers who insist they are “not just any musician.” Spoiler alert: they totally are, but bless their enthusiasm.
And can we just take a moment to praise the Royal Pavilion? Built for King George IV, it’s such an odd mix of Indian architecture and English royalty that you can only assume it was designed with a delightful disregard for convention. I half-expected a Maharaja to pop out and offer me a hot pastry. If you ever visit, try to spot the china dragons inside. They’re slyly positioned and made my day.
Next on our agenda? Margate. Now this little summer retreat seems like it’s been suspended in time—kind of like a classic film set. It’s got the charming, faded air of a seaside destination that knows it can’t compete with Brighton, but it doesn’t care—it’s got character. Plus, it’s still got all those remnants of Victorian charm, complete with a fabulous sandy beach. I spent an entire afternoon trying to impress seagulls with my fish-and-chips tossing technique. Those crafty birds have the reflexes of Olympic athletes. Spoiler alert: they’re not amused by my offerings.
When I ventured into the Turner Contemporary Gallery, I half expected to see something mind-bending, and I wasn’t disappointed. There were incredible exhibitions showcasing modern talents inspired by classic British seaside life. Ever spent a good twenty minutes staring at a piece of artwork that looks like someone splashed paint and called it ‘Untitled’? It’s a real experience, my friend.
Oh, but you can’t mention Margate without touching on Dreamland. It’s a retro amusement park that reminds us all of how much we miss our childhood—and our ability to spin 20 times in a row without feeling sick. They’ve got wooden roller coasters, dodgems, and all of it sprinkled with a healthy dose of nostalgia. My mate and I suddenly turned into giggly kids, until the dodgems reminded us just how hard adulting is. One crashing pair of bumpers later, we were rolling with laughter, tears streaming down our cheeks—courtesy of giggles, of course.
From there, I caught a train to Weston-super-Mare. Ah, Weston. Now, this one’s a little bit like that relative you don’t see often. It’s still working on a glow-up. The iconic Grand Pier has witnessed some ups and downs—just like my love life, but that’s a different story. The pier is great for a stroll, and I recommend doing it whilst snacking on a generous helping of rock (which, if you’re curious, isn’t literally rock, but sugar-coated nostalgia). Pro tip: keep it away from the seagulls. They’re like the flying mafia of the beach.
While I was there, I learned about some local events—apparently, they hold an annual kite festival. I didn’t stay long enough to see it, but could you imagine? A sky full of colourful kites twirling around? Sounds fab until you realise they might get tangled, and then it’s a bit of a nightmare, isn’t it?
And speaking of local gossip, did you hear about the recent controversy over did they really need to change the ice cream shop’s name? Apparently, it went from ‘Frosty Delights’ to ‘The Scoop’—a classic case of branding gone wrong, if you ask me. But hey, as long as they serve a good 99, I’m not complaining!
Moving on to Blackpool—the place where dreams come to shimmer. It’s home to the infamous Blackpool Tower and, in all fairness, the biggest, most glittering celebration of seaside resort ever. Being there feels like stepping into a 1980s music video, complete with neon lights and all the sass. Don’t skip out on the Pleasure Beach—it’s a theme park that’s been around for yonks and knows how to have a good time, though you might want to secure your stomach beforehand, particularly post-rock.
The Blackpool Illuminations? Don’t get me started. Every autumn, the entire promenade lights up like a Christmas tree with displays that will make your inner child squeal. There’s something pure magical about it—unless, of course, you’re caught in the cold, wandering around with a dodgy cup of cocoa to accompany your stroll. But lovely memories can’t be marred by bad drinks, right?
Before I bid adieu, here’s a couple of useful tips for anyone worn down by modern life (or just in desperate need of some Victorian escapism):
So, my dear friend, as I sit here recalling the wild escapades, the laughter, and yes, even the questionable cups of tea, I can’t help but think how splendid Victorian escapism really is. It’s like a warm hug from the past, reminding us that life is about breaking free, even if just for a weekend.
What about you? Have you tried venturing to one of these charming seaside resorts? Or did you have your own misadventures while escaping the ordinary? Tell me your thoughts; I’m curious!
