Driving into an empty seafront carpark at Clacton-On-Sea, it brought me back to the late naughties, when it seemed to rain all the time and Woolworths closed and the high street became the most depressing place to be.
Everything about Nigel Farage’s constituency screamed the financial crash of late noughties.
The desolate abandoned Superdrug with building materials left strewn about the pavement, the packed pubs at 1pm on a random Tuesday, and the slumped trudge of its residents, it was all there.
Our first stop was a toilet break at a chaotic but empty cafe that felt like someone’s front room.
The toilet was strewn with towels mopping up wetness and damp. An intended inspirational quote next to the mirror was unfortunately too on the nose: ‘Smile while you still have teeth!’.
My friend Pierre left disgruntled having paid £2 for an instant coffee. Then we wandered into a charity shop, with a window that looked more like snapshot of crazed patriot’s military wedding than a second hand clothes display. Mock WW2 uniforms stood proud against frantically draped national flags. Asking the volunteer about it she said her manager bought and arranged the entire thing himself: “He takes real pride in all that.”
Johnny Nash’s ‘I can see clearly now’ reverberated through the tinny speakers as a steady drizzle set in outside. Pierre and I agreed the song reminded us of feeling carsick in diesel vehicles so we made a dash for the next shop along – only to hear Johnny Nash’s drawl pick up where we left off. I felt trapped.
Making a break for the seafront – Clacton’s supposed USP – we walked past the abandoned pier. The cliched squeak of rusted rides moaned into the wind as Pierre and I shot each other concerned looks. Despite it being off season, two food stands were manned and open and I bought a beautiful fluffy fresh doughnut from Anya, 20, a Clacton local.
Anya told me: “I like my job, I like seeing the families coming down in summer. Everyone’s happy and that brings me happiness. There are the usual things that are bad about this town, weird people and drunkenness- but the good comes with the bad.”
Another man, Damon, had just been to the Old Lifeboat House pub. He lives outside Clacton but has fond memories of taking his daughters here to the beach. “It’s a nice place really, it’s a bit rundown but most of these seaside towns nowadays are.”
The beach was unexpectedly dramatic – its deep yellow sands peppered with sharp rocks stretching into the distance. We ambled into the pier to see if we could win back some 2ps. It was deserted aside from a few teenagers, one young couple on a date and two boys playing pool.
Perhaps Clacton deserves a re-visit in summer because in early November, even its residents seem confused at how to spend their time – telling us sunny days are when this town comes alive. We decide to head home, and as we pulled out of Clacton the sun came back out, lighting up the bronze autumn trees, colour seeped back into our surroundings – and we breathed a sigh of relief.