Skipper on Cromer: Still in love with my town after 36 years

Now, after 36 years of mixed fortunes and variable weathers, I am tempted to take a small liberty with poet William Cowper’s famous line about England to exclaim: “Cromer, with all they faults, I love thee still!”.

Cowper ended his melancholy-laden day at East Dereham in 1800. He did visit Mundesley several times during closing voyages of a troubled life as an anguished castaway awaiting “the final stifling wave”.

Thankfully,  my sojourn by the briny nearby, longest by far I have spent anywhere in my native county, has been blessed with much more to relish and remember than to regret and resist.

“Glad I am here” postcards to myself do not yet bear the stamp of embarrassment.

Cromer hasn’t changed a lot since we arrived. We knew this brand of coastal constancy would help keep genuine affection afloat while spiteful winds of change blew through so many other parts of Norfolk and more fashionable flags were unfurled not far away.

For all that, the Costa-del-Croma – as I call it during more outlandish moments – has been forced to listen to shrill cries to “dew more” rather than to settle for the more subtle” dew diffrunt”.

Physical alterations, most notably to the area of outstanding natural beauty still trying to defy commercial jackboots tramping along the Holt Road entrance to the town, have divided opinion sharply. “Good for our local economy” can still mean “Bad for the soul of the gateway to Poppyland”.

Cromer’s seemingly insoluble traffic problems at the heart of every summer season will continue to ask if this sort of chaos and pollution is a reasonable price to pay for making a living out of holidaymakers.

Those driving the tourism bandwagons are prone to emphasise all the benefits without calling attention to any of the drawbacks .

Remarkably, the town often likened to a favourite old aunt ready to share homely memories over a nice cup of tea, remains fairly good-natured about all characteristics foisted upon it by well-meaning pilgrims from near and far.

I recall earnest travel writers on national newspapers and magazines wading into excitable waters during the 1990s as if Clement Scott and railways had ever been near the place well over a century earlier.

They sighed over Cromer’s “atrophied charm”, that “high round-shouldered Edwardian look” and “the bouncy castle extravaganza of the grand Hotel de Paris, all turrets and pinnacles”.

One exception to the gushing rule came when a Sunday Times roamer mused: ”Few places on earth can seem more empty of promise than the English seaside on a rainy day in July. Few places can offer more buoyancy to the spirit than the same place on a sunny day in winter."

That made me feel slightly better about a growing preference for Cromer in particular and north Norfolk in general when crowds have gone home and the pale winter light flattens the colour like one of those pre-war hand-tinted postcards you might find in a bric-a-brac shop.

I love the pier, recently voted best in the country, promenade, beach and clifftop walks as winds blow lazily simply because there are so few folk about to  hurry along or annoy.

November is best for owning up to being a member of a club supporting the mantra that some things cannot be measured in terms of pounds or people. There are months of gentle gloating to come.

Cromer’s town centre shops battle on bravely to defy unfair odds with old-fashioned faith in personal service and a sense of community the big boys can never match.

Public transport to and from the Gem of the North Norfolk Coast deserves more support than an occasional Coasthopper bus safari.

Visitors and locals alike can help ease congestion on our roads by using the precious Bittern Line rail service and supporting a revived bus station.

As our two sons were raised and educated in Cromer and made full use of the Scouting organisation to fill their spare hours, I am reluctant to suggest there is nothing for youngsters to do in a  town top heavy with senior citizens –myself included.

But there lingers a strong suspicion that youthful views and requirements are scarcely tolerated, let alone encouraged.

While that worrying gap needs to be closed, there can be no doubting the value of the special relationship between Crafty Cromer Crabs and Shifty Sheringham Shannocks, twin communities anxious to nourish cultural and sporting links despite mischievous attempts to re-ignite passions unleashed by the Crab Wars

As an honorary Crab for 36 years I have listened, watched, noted, smiled, frowned and choked occasionally on little bones of contention.

However, my faith in a strong UN (Unyielding Norfolk) peacekeeping force housed on those rolling acres around the Runtons and Beeston Regis remains wholly unshakeable.