Skegness Theatre, at the end of the 4th longest Pier in England, was always a fascination and a treat to visit. Walking along the board walks you could see the threatening monster of the grey sea through the gaps in between the boards. Sadly on the morning of 12th January 1978 the people of Skegness awoke to find part of their beloved pier had been ripped in half by an angry sea. The theatre remained stranded in the waves like a phantom island accessible only by boat when the sea was calm. The theatre was left to stand alone for a few years before being finally demolished. I used to gaze at it imagining who was that last person to lock up that stormy night, there was still a sign for Walls Ices Cream and a door marked Fire Exit. For me it stood as a ghostly memorial to the lost Music Halls, Vaudeville, and the strong lady; clowns and traveling repertory groups who performed saucy farces along the coast during the summer season.

After demolition the pier was sealed like the stump of a leg amputated at the knee.

There was, however, a place I hated and dreaded when passing by the side of the pier at its opening onto the grand parade, it was a display in photographs of the Japanese atrocities committed on their POWs during the Second World War. I remember walking past Bottons Fun Fair and seeing a man go in with a child on his shoulders, I wondered even at that young age how the child would feel when confronted with such wickedness.

Skegness now is not dissimilar in appearance, only busier and brassier, but the feeling and the atmosphere of the place is beyond any recognition of former times. The 'Jolly' went long ago as did 'The Dirk and Dagger', those sea front Pub/Hotels where my sister met Gordon and I once met comedian Tommy Trinder. These are now replaced with rows of amusements arcades with gaudy neon lights proclaiming their mission "to amuse you" whilst taking your precious holiday pocket money. Night clubs have sprung up and when darkness falls, be it summer or winter, skimpily-clad girls and boisterous groups of shaven headed lads queue to get in past the black overcoated bouncers who guard the door.

The old Embassy Ball Room has been rebuilt and is now a modern visitor centre "complex", and the old pleasure gardens seem to have grown a lot of concrete over the past decades. The sea never goes out so far as it used to and rainy days seem more frequent.

Lumley Road, the shopping "High Street", is filled with "cheap shops" and Nottingham holiday makers are known as "Chizzitts" by Skegness locals because of their constant queries to weary shop keepers "ow muchizzit". The grand hotels that we could not afford have become faded and still retain a fifties look, offering short holidays to trippers who are bussed in from everywhere for a cheap but bracing seaside break. In winter bored youngsters in souped up cars scream around the empty seafront car parks doing "Figures of Eight".

The word "commercialized" comes to mind; rarely used now but I remember Dad steered us away from anywhere he considered to be too commercialized and dragged my sister and I away furiously when he found us jiving outside the Chapel St. Leonard's amusements arcade as the jukebox inside roared out the latest the Everly Brother's hit record.

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