My Kind of Town:Â Will Alsop, who has died aged 70, wrote about his adopted hometown of Sheringham for AT in 1998
There is nothing between this town and the North Pole. North winds are cold, damp and, fortunately, rare. The east wind, direct from the Urals is cold, dry and exhilarating. It brings bright days to post-Christmas dreariness. The soft south-westerly winds have already deposited their rain in Wales and gather the temperature as they cross the country. This results in the driest climate in the UK. Gardeners need hose-pipes here.
The wind is an essential ingredient of this north Norfolk coastal town. I first came to know this place through visits to my parents-in-law. It did not take long to understand that this area is the nearest part of England to London that has nothing to do with London. When the time came for us to buy a home out of town, it had to be in this seaside fishing resort which offered a real contrast to London life.
Constellations exist here which elude Kensington; at night from this place on the earth’s surface it is possible to imagine that you could be anywhere.”
Sheringham has everything. The builder who has made additions and alterations to our home has had a key for nine years (he repairs various items without request). When the herring run down the east coast, stand on the beach at midnight and you can see hurricane lights every 50 metres stretching as far as the eye can see to Blakeney Point. Each fisherman views the moon over the sea and wonders about the next fish.
The sky is clear. Constellations exist here which elude Kensington; at night from this place on the earth’s surface it is possible to imagine that you could be anywhere.
The day reveals sandstone cliffs transfixed by concrete and Scandinavian granite rocks, that try to resist the relentless attempts of the longshore drifts to remove Sheringham and add it to the sands of Blakeney Point. This arrested erosion gives a sense of temporariness to the town resulting in a sense of vitality. Others feel it is a small town of sleep.
Every summer the town grows as holiday-makers arrive from the Midlands, the traditional feeding-ground for the bed-and-breakfast establishments. In winter even the skeleton staff of the town leave for warmer climates. The boys behind the bar in the Red Lion winter in Thailand; others retire to Spain. Even events at the Little Theatre become more erratic and the pubs stay shut until seven o’clock at night.
The town differentiates between the seasons, underlining their natural emotions. A year observed in this place intensifies the experience of the passage of time and enriches the soul. The town decides to love you – it’s the town’s decision, not yours.
Sheringham has adopted some new people but more regularly reclaims its former youth – souls who enjoyed the fresh air, the beach and the intensity of a small community up to the age of 18. At this difficult age of advanced ambition, the town suddenly seems boring. Now horizons call and disdain for the childhood paradise turns into hatred.
Yet at the age of 35 or 40 these same wayward children rediscover their fantasies and return to the joys of a less stressful life. As a result the street is full of prodigal sons and daughters from a variety of lives and lifestyles which coagulate into a timewarp. I love this mix of belief, fantasy and fashion. It colours the high street and renders all trends meaningless.
The local supermarkets are full of belligerent old ladies standing up for their rights as they charge to the front of the queue. No doubt they too are returners from a younger generation that I don’t recognise.
In respect of good food, Sheringham has a long way to go; with some exceptions, we now understand that old hippies cannot cook”
Sadly, the whole place is a conservation area, resulting in all new buildings being facades of nostalgia. These retiring former radicals like to keep the physical world under control and away from the ravishes of the architect. For me however, locked into a world of architectural enquiry, this is a visual rest. I love them all.
The future may be more like Fulham, which seems to hold the same delight for young professionals that Norfolk does for me. It has one extraordinary advantage – good food. In this respect Sheringham has a long way to go; with some exceptions, we now understand that old hippies cannot cook. Also, since I have lived there, I have come to realise that the area is riddled with London architects – I wonder what Lincolnshire is like?
