Barely hanging on to the most easterly tip of England, Great Yarmouth is the seaside town that time forgot. Within minutes of our arrival we discover this temporal isolation permeates the town's whole being.

At the core of Great Yarmouth’s time warp sits Louis Tussauds House of Wax. Its terrible likenesses have been widely mocked via viral emails and national radio.

It was the last day of our visit when we stumbled upon the grand old house, painted bright blue and white, with a small ticket booth out front and faded lettering spelling out 'House of Wax'. Disclaimers and warnings proclaim 'These waxworks are best enjoyed as snapshots in time’ and 'No Photography' - evidence its owners were stung by the email mocking their museum.

Buying tickets and stepping inside we immediately realise the wax works are just as bad as the stories had led us to believe, however it's the whole atmosphere, the entirety of the museum that makes it so fascinating.

Due to a lack of investment or more likely a lack of will, Louis Tussauds is a time capsule of the 1970s and early 80s. Jim Davidson stands proudly at the front of a display of television personalities featuring amongst others Dirty Den and Angie, Sam Fox and the cast of Dynasty. There's a whole gallery of military figures with Churchill and Hitler headlining. Modern day is represented by a lost looking Victoria and David Beckham, but they are probably just the old Morecombe and Wise figures melted down and given new hairstyles.

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Posted by Ben C on July 08, 2007 | Permalink | Comments (3)

The East Anglian fishing village of Sizewell has had its image swallowed whole by the two nuclear power stations. Sizewell A was opened in 1966 and has just recently begun decommissioning. Its large nondescript square concrete bulk sitting in drab contrast to Sizewell B's metal domed roof. Sizewell B opened in 1995 and is due to close in about 30 years.

Sizewell A and B dominate the village's beach and public image. They dominate the coast, sitting side by side beach, staring blankly out to sea.

Like middle class oap's nuclear plants like living near the sea. Drawing in cold water for cooling and steam generation, often pumping out heated water back out to sea (just like a pensioner). Sizewell's inlets and outlets are marked by what look like two marooned seaside piers, which at night reassemble two skeletal fairground relics, details picked out once every two seconds by the blinking red light.

We visited at midnight. It would have been noisy trudging across the stones if it weren't for the loud evil growling sound coming from Sizewell A (which had yet to close). It sounded as though every single character from the Trap Door wanted to escape.

Standing on the beach between the power stations and the outlets is an eerie sensation. Beaches are supposed to be about fun and novelty. Sizewell beach is anything but, two grim concrete structures sat next to a shingle beach with two isolated piers and no ferris wheel. Even sand castles are unlikely as there's not much sand on the shore (although there's some attempt at sand dunes near the car park). Even if there was enough sand you wouldn't want to dig too deep when making the moats for your sand castles.

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Posted by Ben C on October 31, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (3)