Thanks to coronavirus, we're off to the great British seaside. It's like the 1970s all over again

I spent my youth on the Lancashire coast, writes Jenny Eclair. So will the pandemic force Blackpool to smarten itself up – or will it carry on playing host to Hieronymus Bosch live every weekend?

Pier pressure: Blackpool faces an uncertain future (Getty)

According to a pre corona poll by Which? magazine, St Maws in Cornwall is the best seaside town in the UK, with Southwold in Suffolk and Dartmouth in Devon coming joint second.

I’m not arguing. I’m a big fan of the Cornish seaside, especially when the sun shines, and I’ve had many golden times in St Ives (my own personal favourite seaside resort) – visits that have beaten many Greek holidays into a cocked hat.

Ah St Ives: yellow sand, blue sea, the fabulous Tate art gallery and, best of all, a special little cafe I know where you can sit and eat braised octopus with grilled chorizo on a white bean puree while watching all the action down on the beach.

The seaside is the best place in the world for people watching. All those miniature family dramas set against a back drop of the great British class system, played out in public for all to see. Babies crying, siblings fighting, dropped ice cream cones, teenagers snogging, couples squabbling. All human life is there. It’s Alan Bennett crossed with a large cast TV soap.

No wonder some of the best British films are set in seaside towns. Without thinking too hard, Brighton Rock, On Chesil Beach and Wish You Were Here instantly spring to mind. You’re very welcome to make up your own list.

Since the coronavirus pandemic, the British seaside holiday is having a renaissance. Many of us are still too anxious to contemplate flying abroad. Even more of us can no longer afford those flights. It’s like the olden days all over again.

Back in the 1970s, when I was a teenager, only certain girls at my school jetted off to foreign climes. The rest of us stuck it out in Blighty. In fact, given that we already lived in a seaside resort, many of us didn’t go anywhere at all. I spent 10 years of my life growing up on the northwest coast and frequently spent entire summers “staying at home”.

My Lancashire home town of Lytham St Annes doesn’t feature in the Which? poll top 10, but its big sister, the neighbouring town of Blackpool, does. Sadly she takes sixth place in another Which? top 10 – Worst Seaside Resorts – and my heart sinks for the old girl.

Because, as I’ve been insisting for years, Blackpool could be fabulous. She has big skies and miles of soft golden sand, and these days the sea is no longer full of boarding house poo. (Seriously. Once upon a time you could contract gastroenteritis on a windy day just walking along the prom and catching a face full of faecal ocean spray.)

Blackpool might be languishing at the bottom of the league of seaside resorts, with a reputation for the kind of sleaze that is impossible to romanticise, but she also has treasures that no other resort in the world can boast. The world famous tower with its glorious ballroom; the Winter Gardens; the Opera House and Pleasure Beach. It also has piers – three of them – and trams, and it’s the only place in the UK with full-blown winter illuminations.

But what Blackpool hasn’t got is money. Or pop-up crab shacks, or the kind of hotels that middle class families in Breton T-shirts like to stay in. Very few of Blackpool’s B&Bs will serve avocado on sourdough toast. It’s as if someone forgot to get the Farrow and Ball paint out and drag her into the 21st century.

Mistakes have been made by the local council and circumstances have conspired against the place. The result is a relentlessly downmarket resort that can turn into a terrifying live Hieronymus Bosch, especially at night. In recent years, particularly in high season, Blackpool was notoriously awash with people spewing and pissing all the way along the promenade. It’s the saddest sight simply because the place has such potential.

Blackpool’s prospects are precarious. Who knows what effect the pandemic will eventually have on the place? It’s too early to tell whether she will ever return to her boisterous past or morph into her own deserted ghost ride. With many of its infamous nightspots and entertainment venues closed for the foreseeable future, who will visit? Blackpool has traditionally been a low budget stag-and-hen style destination, catering for people who don’t care how “boutique” their hotel is because there’s no point in paying for fancy interior design and posh soap when you’re going to be out clubbing until 5am.

With the clubs shut, will its clientele simply take to marauding on beach and making it a no-go zone for families? Or could Blackpool possibly calm down, emerging a cleaner, safer place to go on holiday – perhaps even for the Breton wearers?

Watch out St Maws. You never know; one day, you may find you have competition.