Bugger Bognor

It's rather sad when the main thing people generally know about a place is that a King swore at it in 1929.

It was King George V, who was convalescent after a lung operation. He was the severe-looking bearded gent who appeared on many of the older coins in my young life up to February 1971, when the old coinage (pounds, shillings and pence) was replaced by decimal coinage (pounds and pence) - and coins bearing the heads of a long line of kings and queens, all the way back to Queen Victoria on the oldest coins in circulation, suddenly disappeared.

Everything I've ever heard about King George V tells me that he was in later life a touchy chap, not very patient. He would have hated being ill. He would have hated the court physicians telling him that a spot of sea air at Bognor on the Sussex coast would be beneficial, and having to comply with their orders as a matter of court protocol. He had to stay there for several months, and must have been fed up with the place by the end. So he would have despised the subsequent obsequious request from the town council at Bognor that 'Regis' (Latin for 'of the King') be added to the town's name, to mark 'his' gracious choice of holiday destination. In future it would be 'The King's Bognor', in mutual association for all time to come. Great for the town. Irksome for His Majesty.

In short, he had genuine cause to feel grumpy about Bognor, and although there is no proof that he ever did mutter the words 'Bugger Bognor!' whenever the town (and the vacation there) was mentioned, I am personally quite satisfied that he did.

Well, Bognor got its change of name, and has proudly used it ever since. It really was quite a privilege. This has been the only modern example of a place being honoured with a 'Regis' tacked on. There weren't in fact many UK placenames that sported that 'Regis' element. Only fifteen. The West Country accounted for seven of that fifteen: Bere Regis, Brompton Regis, Kingsbury Regis, Lyme Regis, Melcombe Regis, Salcombe Regis and Wyke Regis. Half the national supply. Odd that.

Nowadays towns that aspire to a royal connection push to have 'Royal' put in front of the name, as happened not long ago with Wootton Bassett in Wiltshire. Before that, there were only two towns that were Royal-something: Royal Leamington Spa and Royal Tunbridge Wells. (If you are seriously interested in pursuing this subject, see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_place_names_with_royal_patronage_in_the_United_Kingdom)

And yet Bognor Regis might have been called something quite different: Hothamton ('Hoth' as in 'moth'). Originally a fishing village, the place was developed by enterprising Sir Richard Hotham in the late eighteenth century as a fashionable resort for the titled and wealthy, copying the success of Brighton and Eastbourne. But it never really took off as a posh haven for toffs, and the 'Hothamton' name didn't last. Instead, Bognor settled down into a Sussex beach town existence, with all the usual amenities, but no especial cachet. Sir Richard is still remembered: there is a Hotham Park. And no doubt, as Bognor gradually redevelops itself, more and more will be made of its historical aspirations and royal connections. I predict the George V CineCenta, and the Hotham Arena.

So what is Bognor Regis really like? Imagine a flat part of the coast - no cliffs - with a sloping shingle beach, and sand only at low tide. Imagine a tatty cut-down pier, a tired promenade, nondescript gardens, mundane car parks, a theatre that badly needs an upgrade, and an uninspiring town centre full of bargain outlets, mobile phone stores, nail bars and vaping shops. Imagine the best place in town, the neatly-maintained station with its frequent trains to other places, London included. Imagine also, beyond all this, a sprawl of admittedly decent residential housing in mostly quiet streets; and, on the main road in (the A29) a couple of retail parks with the usual superstores. Oh, and Butlin's for somewhere to stay on the weekend.

I sound a bit dismissive, but really (just like King George V, and who better to take my cue from?) I don't rate Bognor highly, and don't go there very often. It's not rewarding enough for a casual visit. For similar sea coast, but with a nice riverside, and plenty of sandy beach thrown in, nearby Littlehampton wins every time. Neither is however on my A list of Sussex seaside destinations. I will admit that Bognor has more holiday amenities than, say, Seaford.

All this said, I do go to Bognor now and then. It pays to see it in the summer - when it's lively - or in the winter, whenever a good sunset is expected. I went for the sunset option the other day.

The setting sun cast a magical warmth on everything, and - at least if you stood back a bit - it made the seafront buildings look almost attractive. Some spray-painted hoardings caught my eye.

I'm guessing that glum green face was a stylised moon, rather then a stylised holidaymaker.

Amazing what you could do with spray cans. But where was Banksy?

The sun did its best with the 'traditional' but nevertheless insalubrious rock shop, ice cream parlours and amusement arcades.

I didn't enquire which of those diet-busting dishes was the Old Age Pensioner Special. Even though, as you know, I easily qualify for one.

The sunset made the truncated pier look pretty good. It was in fact just a platform for a nightclub called Sheiks (as in Rudolf Valentino on a fine Arab charger). But one could ignore that conceit.

I took shots on the pier, and underneath it. Thankfully, nobody was there, curled up in a sleeping bag.

Further along the promenade was an old bandstand, tarted up somewhat, but clearly a little-used relic from decades ago. I hung around, waiting for the right combination of silhouetted figures to walk past.

Not as good as a shot I took back in 2000:

Actually, I've taken much better shots of Bognor's seafront in the past. Such as these from 2003 and 2006, which show that Bognor can look quite interesting:

The sun suddenly lost its intensity. It sank behind a bank of low cloud. I began to walk back to where I'd parked Fiona in a back street. On the way, I saw this blue plaque:

Wow. The Pre-Raphaelite painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti worked in there for a year or so! I wonder how they knew? It isn't in Wikipedia. He wasn't in the best of health by the later 1870s, and perhaps he too came to Bognor for some invigorating sea air.

As I walked back through the town streets, I was confronted by a young woman. 'Excuse me...' Our eyes met. I gave her a frank and very direct look. This plainly disconcerted her. I wanted my eyes to say that I wasn't a cold and nasty person, but I absolutely wasn't going to give her anything, and she ought to believe it and not waste her time. But she must have seen something else, something that confused her. So all she said next was 'Ummm...' 

Seizing the moment, I walked away, before she could get back on track with her usual spiel. It was puzzling: street beggars are usually quicker-witted and much more persistent. I haven't forgotten the kind I met in Plymouth when last there, who made me feel very uncomfortable, one man in particular. I have become hyper-defensive where such people are concerned, yet continue to be approached. I must still look a soft touch.

Here's one last image that helps to sum up Bognor. It was in a bus shelter. A poster advertising a vaping brand.

Sigh. These adverts ought to be banned. You can say what you like, vaping is addictive. It's another form of smoking, and there will be unhealthy medical consequences down the line - even if a case can presently be made for vaping being negligibly injurious to the lungs and mouth, compared to tobacco-smoking. I noticed which shops were listed as suppliers: they were the shops where people with not much money tended to go. So the ad was targeted at the poor. 

Would I be a snob if I guessed that the kind of person who might react to such an ad wouldn't have a clear idea what the word 'exceptional' meant? Yes, I decided that it was snobbish (and elitist) to assume a lack of education. I shouldn't consider myself in any way better-informed. Or too astute to become a victim of advertising hype. Or above populist tastes.

But the approach from the girl for 'loose change', and this ad, and a number of other things I'd seen in my walk around the town and seafront, such as the seedy amusement arcades, gave me a bleak feeling inside. I didn't belong here. Bognor wasn't the town for me. It was time to go back to my own world in Mid Sussex. 

Bugger Bognor.