Peace in our time

As Hove is to Brighton, Lytham St. Anne’s to Blackpool, so Leigh-on-Sea is to Southend. The more genteel, more refined, more restrained and self-effacing maiden aunts, contrasted with an outrageously outspoken and anything-goes younger nieces. Or nephews. Brighton, Blackpool and Southend may delight in their raffishness, their naughtiness, their kiss-me-quick hats, Hove, Lytham and Leigh are just that little bit distanced from all that in-your-face, rather vulgar activity.

Leigh-on-Sea is one of the hidden gems of the Essex coast, a small community now part of the greater Southend, but still keeping its own identity. It has been here since the Domesday Book, when William I was probably delighted to discover that he had a small coastal community called Legra within his kingdom.

The original Leigh was a fishing port, and one of the biggest facing the North Sea. William and his heirs obviously thought it of strategic importance, because, just a mile or so down the coast, and on a magnificent roll of hill above the flatness of the plain, they built Hadleigh Castle, the stumpy remains of which can clearly be seen from the train as the railway enters the town. Hadleigh may be Norman in origin, but it is very much of-the-moment today, because it will be the location for the mountain bike contests in the summer Olympics.

Leigh-on-Sea is definitely not a resort town. It has left all that to Southend. But it is a great day out, or ideal for a short weekend break, if you are nearby, and with a little time on your hands.

There are one or two decent restaurants in the upper part of the town, and an old coaching inn, The Carlton, which proclaims itself as the haven of hospitality for the weary who want refreshment. On the lunchtime I picked, it was shut. And so, after negotiation a very steep set of steps and surfaces to the lower town, was The Ship. Those steps are picturesque – but, after a sharp shower of chilling rain, they were also very treacherous. There’s a lovely park near the church at the top, with panoramic views right across the grey Thames estuary, and terraces of houses, made of traditional white boards, are to the left and right as you descend, gripping tightly onto the handrail. The gardens are neatly tended and bursting with colourful planting. As a rule of thumb, the upper town is late Victorian, Edwardian and some Art Deco (there’s a splendid red-brick Grand Hotel that was clearly the focus of social life a century ago) and the lower town has its roots in medieval times.

Today, fishing is still very much part of Leigh’s life, and there’s a huge fish warehouse near Victoria Wharf which is open daily to all comers, selling just about everything that a seafood-lover could want – from cockles to cod, oysters to, well, you name it. And the main street here seems to be punctuated by a pub, then an art gallery, then two more pubs, a restaurant and another art gallery, a pub, a shop, an art gallery and some more pubs. You get the picture. And, naturally enough, all the pubs and restaurants have nautical names – The Old Smack, The Peter Boat, The Boatyard, and so on.

In the late middle ages, Leigh’s important in the national and European shipping world slipped away as quickly as the harbour silted up. But with the coming of a rail link to London, it re-established itself on a smaller scale, sending boxes of the catch of the day to an ever-growing market. These days, it is still very much boating town – both commercially, and for the many who moor their craft here.

There’s a very popular early autumn regatta (organised annually by the town’s three Scout troops), and a building society recently voted it the second-best place to live on the British coast, after Christchurch, near Bournemouth, although the residents of Whitby, Robin Hood’s Bay and Staithes might disagree.

The Essex Yachting Club has its home here, as does the Leigh Sailing Club. Memberships for both are, it is said, at a premium and there’s a long waiting list. There’s a good art trail, as well. Helen Mirren comes from Leigh, and so did Michael Wilding, John Fowles the author, and the Lloyd tennis-playing lads. When that naughty old Edwardian goat H G Wells was having his affair with the novelist Rebecca West, he installed her in an imposing house in the upper town – presumably she didn’t want to mix with the vibrant pub scene down below by the waters, and she was safely away from the gossiping tongues of the Bloomsbury Set.

Leigh may not exactly be a hidden treasure – in the heart of the London commuter belt the station car parks are full of vehicles waiting for their owners to return from work – but it remains a stretch of the coast which most of us won’t know at all, it is more than worth the effort to get there, and to enjoy the exploration. And, if you like your real ales served with a whiff of sea salt and ozone as an accompaniment, you will have found your Nirvana. .

Getting there

For those who want to abandon the car, Leigh-on-Sea requires a train into London and back out. From Yorkshire it’s a train to King’s Cross, then Tube to Fenchurch Street where trains leave every 15 minutes, and the journey takes about 45 minutes. Wear good walking shoes if you want to explore the upper town by foot.

For more information call 01702 618747 or visit www.leigh-on-sea.com