Walking the almost-empty streets of this small seaside town near Clacton-on-Sea felt like a fever dream. Returning to London has never felt better
Stepping off the train at Frinton-on-Sea and being greeted with a blackboard advertising fresh cream teas- without a vending machine in sight – it was clear I had travelled across the country, and back in time. Initially thinking it was maybe a 10 year jump – I was soon proven wrong.
Making the short walk from the station to the pub, I could hear war-time ditties blasting out of pet shops and brassy military anthems playing through charity shops sound systems.
Inside were dust-coated frames of wartime front pages: “We Never Surrender.” On walking into the Frinton War Memorial club, or “the Mems”, it was apparent that the town stood frozen in time at the first VE day, a living memorial to World War Two.
The eyes of Queen Elizabeth II bore down on the royal blue velour seats of the pub, with its matching navy carpet. Union Jacks covered one wall with an altar-like construction standing underneath.
A drum, fake plastic poppies and some nondescript trophies rested on top of a bookshelf. The contents of the shelf looked like someone had emptied out a grandad’s attic into it. One standout book was “Commando Call of Battle: The Best 10 Commando Comic Books ever!”
Despite blending in perfectly with the palette of Frinton, the way passersby’s eyes lingered on you for a second too long let you know they knew you weren’t one of them. This was palpable when walking into this club – it was a head turner in the true sense of the term.
A wave of faces swung around to let you know they had sensed a newcomer. If this wasn’t enough – I then had to sign a form with my name, address, phone number, and my “contact” Pierre who had a temporary membership – a crumpled piece of paper which he had to present each time he walked in. In their defence – they may have just been territorial about their £5 pints.
My reason for the visit, the Frinton Summer Season, brought me the biggest culture shock. The run of summer plays, run for a week each, and are held in the magnolia pebble dash theatre just opposite the members club.
Before the play, the audience, with an average age of 60, rose to sing the national anthem with their hands on their hearts.
Gasping for some fresh air and a change of scene, Pierre and I headed to the beach for a fish and chips, from Young’s Other Place. This came in at a steep £32 for one small and one large battered cod and chips and mushy peas.
Although in a welcome change ID was not needed for a chippy tea – ketchup did have to be purchased by the bottle.
Getting back on the air-conditioned train to Liverpool Street felt like a rush of relief to the nervous system and watching the people of Bethnal Green look through me as I walked back to my flat had never felt more welcome.
Even if it was perfumed with the stench of hot summer drains, it felt like I was finally back in 2025.