The Summer Solstice, Stonehenge, Southend, fish and chips and ice- cream.
Oh I do like to be beside the seaside. Oh I do like to be beside the sea. Yes folks it's the longest day of the year, the summer solstice is upon us and the heat, to quote a line from a famous film, is most definitely on. Summer has reached the magnificent piers and esplanades of Southend and today's roasting, baking sub tropical British heatwave conjured up fond, nostalgic images of 1976 when the sun shone uninterruptedly and divinely for three, four or five months, perhaps seemingly the entire summer.
Shortly, hordes of tourists, curious on lookers and those of a religious and spiritual persuasion will descend on Stonehenge for the yearly dance around those huge stones before launching into a whole sequence of chants, prayers and the eternal search for answers, answers to questions that can never be clarified. It'll be that wonderful congregation of humanity who will look high into the dark, inky night sky where the stars and heaven will tell them that summer has reached its crowning summit.
This is the longest day of the year and the sun set over Southend on Sea. Oh how my heart swells with pride at the Essex Riviera. There can be few seaside resorts that evoke so many personally perfect images of childhood summer, where everything seemed to be fabulously pleasant, settled, stable, joined up, contented and, above all, family oriented. And that is still the case and how good that is.
Most of my childhood was spent deliriously at nearby Westcliff, a Jewish rendezvous where families from across Essex and the East End of London frequently gathered- and still do so- for Sunday afternoons of healthy appetites, buckets and spades, dedicated digging of sand for sandcastles, mother and father proudly observing their offspring from that wonderfully complicated deckchair that always seemed impossible to assemble. Dad would wear the clean shirt, braces and trousers while not forgetting the regulation handkerchief on his head. Mum would lovingly wipe her children's ice-cream stained mouth before lavishing them with tender care, constant attention and smiling at them affectionately.
Today my wife and father in law took full advantage of the mid June heatwave knowing full well that eventually it'll all end up in tears, thunderstorms, rain, wind and, quite possibly, a cascade of snow but let us hope not. Once again the ups and downs and the vagaries of the English climate have made any domestic set of plans to hit the coast almost impossible to judge. Suffice it to say that the revellers at Glastonbury are bound to get a complete soaking, It'll rain properly and severely for goodness knows how long, you'll need three layers of clothing, a thick pair of pullovers, wellington boots and several raincoats into the bargain. But hold on I want the weekend to be just right for my niece's birthday party on Saturday so that heatwave can continue for as long as it likes.
Anyway what of today's visit to Southend? As usual it lived up to all of its traditional expectations. Firstly the tide seemed to be stranded somewhere in Calais and all you could see were those muddy acres of seaweed that have almost become the norm on any day out in Southend but then surprise you when least expected. Sitting outside the legendary Rossi's restaurant, I noticed something that I must have seen a hundred times before but never really taken in.
It was true. All I had to do was close my eyes and then wake up from my dreamy doze. Southend, unquestionably, bore a striking resemblance to the South of France, the Cote D'Azur, Monaco and a pretty fishing harbour in Spain, Italy or Greece, Truly, the long and winding pathways and pavements of Southend had reminded me of some sun kissed Iberian strip where restaurants and cafes did a roaring trade next to bustling beaches.
But I kid you not. There were sparkling lagoons with tiny pools of glinting water, apple red sunsets dipping and rippling constantly on the horizon. There were tiny peninsulas with more islands of water and in the distance something even more cherishable and special. I'm sure I saw a far off frigate, a hulking ship that just looked as if it was waiting for something to happen. It didn't happen but it was intriguingly positioned as if begging an artist to paint it quite spontaneously. Then there was what looked like catamaran or corvette just placid and at ease with life in this idyllic Southend haven.
And yet closer to home I found myself surrounded by the kind of heavenly sights that somehow belonged exclusively to the Mediterranean. Amazingly there was a long row of palm trees in Southend that simply blew me away. Now I may have missed something on my intermittent travels to the Essex coast. But there they were, a daisy chain of palm trees lined up most glamorously on the Southend front. I gasped with utter astonishment and began to wonder whether the full cast of the Hollywood fraternity would eventually turn up at the amusement arcades. This was merely wishful thinking and sooner or later reality would sink in. Still there was no harm in dreaming.
At first it looked as if the Cannes Film Festival had arrived in Southend but then you saw the nearby Kursaal and belief had to be suspended again. How did palm trees come to decorate the sultry and sizzling seaside resort of Southend? But this was quite the most remarkable discovery and for the rest of the afternoon I kept hoping to see George Clooney, Brad Pitt or Bradley Cooper. But then I gave up rather meekly when the realisation dawned that they wouldn't be gracing the Adventure Island after all. Hollywood celebrities and seaside amusement parks didn't really seem to fit anyway.
Still, it was one of those gloriously hot summer days that Noel Coward warned us, perhaps unwisely about and remained convinced that only the mad go out at mid-day. I sat there just enchanted and stunned by those seaside perennials. One of the many souvenir shops revealed those timeless windmills fluttering away in the bracing breeze, the sandcastle buckets in a richly riotous rainbow of colours, the Cliffs Pavilion, Southend's showbiz and entertainment centre and then a yachting club with hundreds of yachts, well rigged yachts, yachts sitting comfortably in the sea and then yachts bobbing lazily and languidly.
But then my eyes were captured by the palm trees. There were palm trees swaying flirtatiously in the gentle Essex breeze, waving politely at passers by and then shaking playfully at a strengthening gust of wind. It hardly seemed possible but this was real and incredibly joyful. My wife, father in law and I indulged in the seaside staple favourite of fish and chips with the compulsory ice cream. The British seaside resort had never been more satisfying, more rewarding and more fun. Somehow your childhood briefly flickered into vision. Now where did that Brad Pitt go with my ice cream? I bet he didn't think about dropping into Rossi's.
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