Meanwhile, back in Margate...

Ah, yes, the seaside Bronx after fooling me for a moment that it might actually not be such a bad place, shows it’s true colours.

We’ve been to Margate a few times before last week. We went to see a rather excellent Mike Nelson installation a couple of years ago. It’s was the 17th of December (I remember as it was Beck’s birthday) and we spent the whole day driving in pouring rain from Eastbourne where she’d had a private view the night before to Margate. Good show, but as with most of Mike’s work it took place in an abandoned building with hints of a nefarious past. Typical Margate. Not exactly pleasant, but Beck seems to like it.

She was excited about the show.

Walking down from the station last Friday I was staggered by the concentrated number of boarded up buildings. Given that this is the so-called affluent south (and okay, so the Kent and Essex estuary-coast has never really been included in that) I still don’t think I’ve a British town quite so run down for many years. And, remember, I spent three and a half years driving around the country to light and heavy industry estates which never give the best impression of a town.

Unfortunately I’ve been proved right.

Sunday night our early-morning wake-up call (or someone else entirely) came back, with a screwdriver and broke into the shack stealing the DVD player, inside of which was Beck’s film.

Now, okay, it’s not like someone’s stolen a painting or a sculpture or anything like that. The thief isn’t even going to care what’s in the player, he just wants to sell it for a tenner to someone down the park and the film is easy enough for Beck to replace.

Burn new DVD?
OK. Cancel

But there’s still something particularly unpleasant about this. Margate’s current big plan for regeneration is through the arts. Cheap studio space for artists, cafes and bars for them to lounge around in being all bohemian and watch the property prices soar. Just like in Shoreditch and various other bits of the East End.

Of course, it’s hugely debatable as to whether you can force this in the first place. In sixties speak this is the man trying to effect a counter-culture movement. Which just doesn’t work. These things happen organically and under completely different sets of circumstances.

Which is a shame. A real shame.

But, I guess, the town’s tried everything else and this is a last roll of the dice. Mind you, if it can’t get up off its knees in ten years of continual economic growth I’m sceptical that it’ll be able to do that now.

And perhaps that’s what our friendly proprietor of the local electronics van-store (aka the thief in question) realises? That even though the council thinks that inviting all these arty types down from London to slum it at the beach is going to benefit the locals, he (or she) realises that it ain’t and rather than wait for the non-existent payoff in three years time, decides to get ten quid now.