retiredmartin

August 2026. Skegness. Lincolnshire.

Obviously Skegness isn’t the most newsworthy east coast seaside resort this week, what with alien bins* competing for our attention, but I was genuinely keen to discover why the trains from Sheffield and buses from Lincoln seemed so packed in Summer.

Previous visits I remember had been Autumn ’94, Winter ’99 and Spring ’18 (with Curry Charles), when anyone heading to those golden sands would know why their slogan is a simple “It’s bracing“.

But if you’re not dipping your toe in the North Sea in our August heatwave you never will. Don’t those windmills look lovely ?

Skegness is busy enough, “No Vacancies” signs everywhere and a Premier Inn charging £200 a night (most folk come for the week), despite no obvious events.

Like Blackpool, which I love (you either do or you don’t) it seems to have a genuine cross-generational appeal,

the common factor being a love of ice cream.

My recollection of the glossy tourist brochures that clogged up our Hitchin house in the ’90s was of a town promoting its floral charms as much as seals and sombreros and sandcastles.

There was probably a time 50 years ago I loved Genghis Khan themed amusement parks,

and there was possibly a time I wouldn’t have caused a critical incident by using the flume,

but I’m not a big fan of the seaside. Mrs RM made a token effort by sitting down next to the kites for 10 minutes,

and then said “Bored now“. I mean, what do folk (who aren’t pre-teen) actually do at the seaside, apart from look out to sea and wait to die ?

But….everyone seemed to be having a great time, apart from the seagulls,

cursing Mrs RM’s decision to eat fish and chips in the the Jolly Sailor, rather than on the sand.

*^{Stay out of politics, RM}