I view seaside resorts with mixed emotions, I love the whole escapism bit but it also cuts against the grain. The job of the ‘Fantasy World’ is to fleece visitors of as much money as possible. In winter the lack of activity exposes the recumbent underbelly of the money making machine that is reliant warm weather and people’s wish to escape from reality.
The appearance of the Cliff Farm turkey usually signifies that Christmas is around the corner (joke intended). Until this year the turkey on wheels has been an annual sighting at North Carlton, cheering people up on their way to work. In 2016 it has been conspicuous by its absence – perhaps it was finally culled!
Alfred Stieglitz’s The Steerage photograph from 1907 showed the separation of the classes aboard ship with higher class on the upper deck above the lower class on the lower deck, reflecting their positions in society.
Only the wealthy own horses and the lower classes watch as they parade, jump, race and hunt. This image was intentionally shot with both Stieglitz in mind. There will always be a class system.
Being largely flat and out-of-the-way, Lincolnshire was an ideal place to build WW2 aerodromes, so many that it seems like every village had one, hence the moniker ‘Bomber County’.
This is where the Dambusters were based, and during the Cold War nuclear V bombers. The RAF still has a large presence here including, the Red Arrows, RAF College Cranwell and RAF Waddington AWACS base.Littered with aviation heritage sites and museums, Lincolnshire appears to be obsessed with it’s aviation history.
The UK’s tallest war memorial is currently being built as part of the new International Bomber Command Centre. Heritage and nostalgia wraps us up in a mythologised past, where time appears to stand still. Local newspapers feature endless stories of aviation heritage.
You can take part in 1940s theme weekends. Shops sell inflatable Spitfires and display posters that recommend you “KEEP CALM and EAT SAUSAGES”. Ah yes, home of the famous Lincolnshire Sausage!
Every year for as long as I can remember and before, a steam rally is held on the Lincolnshire Showground. This carousel is sited in almost the exact same spot, within yards of the one in the photograph of me that I am holding up, which was taken almost 50 years ago. This was taken during the time when I lived in the village of Jerusalem.
Viewing platform, created as part of a series of constructions for ‘Structures on the Edge’ along the Lincolnshire coast. https://twitter.com/SOTE_UK
RAF Stenigot is situated at the dizzy height of the Lincolnshire Wolds. Originally, it was built as a WWII radar station, later becoming a Cold War communications post and today it is a RAF training facility. The Cold War is over and the decommissioned dishes, too big to move, languish in their remoteness.
Wherever you go you will find the Union and St George’s flags, in front gardens on public facilities, on clothing or even in the middle of nowhere. Is it patriotism, pride, or maybe nostalgia for when Britain was considered *’great’.
A German car with a patriotic Union Flag livery, perhaps it was an intentional snub or did the owner not see the irony? The Red Arrows in the background was good timing and admittedly, a stroke of luck.
Even before the Brexit vote, it was already fairly obvious where Lincolnshire stood. On the day, the county recorded the highest pro-Brexit vote in the UK, with more than 75% of residents voting to leave the EU. It looks like this poll turned out to be pretty accurate.
A Lincolnshire farm shop that sells a large percentage of imported produce. Ah well, I guess it came from a farm somewhere!
Bank Holiday open day at the Lincolnshire Aviation Centre. Lincolnshire (Bomber County) is obsessed with its aviation history. The Bank Holiday weather never gets in the way of a day out.
* The “Great” part of Britain refers to the ‘great’er landmass of England, Scotland and Wales. Many labour under the misapprehension that it refers to the glory of Empire or some kind of past achievement on the world stage. Though, perhaps greatness is closer to a modern interpretation, having been commandeered by so many people, particularly Brexiters as an aspiration.
Obviously intended to lend an air of the Costa-packet to those visiting the English seaside resort. Except that nothing other than the sign would indicate anything Spanish. Apart from the portable sign put in the street from the owner of Matador Cafe, which ironically, would not otherwise be found.
When I was a kid we were pretty fearless, we had no real sense of danger. We used to freely roam around the lanes, woods and village streets armed with sheath knives that would get you arrested today. What seemed like every other weekend we would go camping in the woods, what is now Birchwood estate. We would use axes, bow saws and various types of cleaver, unsupervised and mostly untrained. We made camp fires and cooked our own food. We climbed to the top of the tallest trees and dared each other to sway in the wind on the thinnest branches. We made Tarzan swings across dykes and tried to impress each other with how daring we could be. In winter we would lightly feel our way across the thin ice of frozen ponds seeing who could cross to other other side, I came a real cropper on that one and was sent to bed without tea. Most kids these days do not have much freedom to roam in the way that we did, to learn through trial and error. Society seems to have sanitised the childhood experience with health and safety, litigation and helicopter parent paranoia. I was heartened to come across at least a remnant of my past, out of sight of the playing field security camera.