Ramsgate – a town that has so much to make it a great place to live. Beautiful beaches, pretty harbour, nice architecture. It also has a scummy dirty town centre frequented by drunks at all times of day, lots of mobility scooters driven by lardy lumps sometimes driving one handed, holding a fag or a can of beer in the other hand. Lots of empty shops, lots of dereliction.
Lots of DFLs too, tarting up the houses, lots of arty chatter, lots of do gooders who talk a lot and achieve nothing. Arty types have colonised the town because they can’t afford to live anywhere else and are pretending it’s the new St Ives.
It’s also a dumping ground for social misfits from London, they hang around the town centre smoking weed and drinking, shop doorways with sleeping bags and beggars.
It’s not a happy town. Bitchiness and gossip as the newcomers try to establish themselves in the flimsy social hierarchy. Arty types inflating their achievements, trying for a toehold in the chase for grant money to fund their latest second rate idea. (Anything to pay the mortgage.)
It’s a shame. It should be a good town. So many things going for it but Ramsgate’s going nowhere, spiralling down, down, down despite the surface lacquer.