Upon arriving at Frinton-on-Sea after disembarking from the train, I was greeted with a charming sight – a blackboard advertising freshly made cream teas, a stark contrast to the modern vending machine culture. It felt like a journey both geographically and temporally, as if stepping back in time rather than just a decade.
As I strolled towards the pub from the train station, the air was filled with war-era tunes emanating from pet shops and patriotic anthems resonating from charity shops nearby.
Inside the pub, relics of wartime history adorned the walls, with dusty frames displaying headlines like “We Never Surrender.” The Frinton War Memorial club, known as “the Mems,” was like a living tribute frozen in time to the events of VE day, showcasing a poignant reminder of World War Two.
The interior of the pub was adorned with royal memorabilia, including a portrait of Queen Elizabeth II overlooking the velour seats and navy carpet. The walls were draped with Union Jack flags, creating a reverent ambiance.
A mix of eclectic items, resembling a collection from a grandfather’s attic, adorned the shelves. Noteworthy among them was a book titled “Commando Call of Battle: The Best 10 Commando Comic Books ever!”
Despite blending seamlessly into the town’s aesthetic, it was evident that the locals could spot an outsider, their lingering gazes giving away the unspoken recognition. The atmosphere in the club was filled with curiosity and a sense of novelty towards newcomers.
Upon entering the club, I was required to fill out a form with personal details, including my name, address, and contact information of a temporary member named Pierre. This formality, perhaps driven by a sense of ownership over their establishment, hinted at the cherished tradition of the pub.
My purpose for visiting, the Frinton Summer Season, brought about a significant cultural contrast. The summer plays, each running for a week, were hosted in the magnolia pebble dash theatre opposite the members club.
Before the play commenced, the audience, predominantly aged around 60, stood up to sing the national anthem with patriotic fervor, a tradition that added to the nostalgic charm of the experience.
Seeking a change of scenery, my companion Pierre and I ventured to the beach for a classic fish and chips meal from Young’s Other Place. Despite the steep price tag of £32 for a small and large portion, the seaside treat was a welcomed indulgence.
While no identification was required for the meal, the need to purchase ketchup by the bottle added a quirky touch to the dining experience.
Boarding the air-conditioned train back to Liverpool Street felt like a breath of fresh air, a return to the familiar hustle and bustle of modern city life. The indifference of the Bethnal Green locals contrasted sharply with the inquisitive gazes of Frinton-on-Sea, marking a stark transition back to the present day.
Despite the pungent aroma of summer drains, the familiarity of urban life in 2025 was a comforting embrace after the intriguing journey to Frinton-on-Sea.
