My upcoming poetry book, “Dust in my Cappuccino” is a collection of thirty two poems inspired by the coastal town of Folkestone in the south east corner of England. In order to provide some context to the poems for those readers unfamiliar with the town, I have written a short history of the town. This will feature as the introduction to the collection when it is published next month.
Located on the south east coast of England, a handful of miles from the famed White Cliffs, and only twenty two miles from continental Europe, Folkestone has had a long, varied history, boasting both Bronze and Iron Age settlements and a prominent Roman Villa, sadly now perilously close to the cliff erosion that has always afflicted this coastline.
Descended from the the Anglo-Saxon Kings of Kent, Eanswythe, a devout young princess, founded a nunnery in the town in the seventh century AD, and was subsequently made a saint. Her bones, discovered in the parish church by workmen in 1885, were radiocarbon tested and confirmed in 2020, and the church is now becoming a growing site of pilgrimage.
For a thousand years, Folkestone was a modest fishing village and, for most of that time, as a limb of the Cinque Port of Dover, also a busy trading port. Smuggling was a not insignificant business from the eighteenth century too. But it was the coming of the railway and associated cross-channel ferry industry from 1843, and the construction in later decades of grand hotels and white stuccoed family homes, notably in the West End, that contributed to its rise as a fashionable resort that attracted royalty, artists and writers in addition to the Victorian and Edwardian middle class. Much of this development was conceived, funded and overseen by the Earl of Radnor, who still owns land in the town and surrounding area.
The “golden age” that began around 1880 arguably came to a sudden halt with the outbreak of the Great War, which had a profound effect on Folkestone. It became a major port of embarkation for the Western Front, and the final sight of England for millions of troops, many of whom will have marched from the neighbouring Shorncliffe army camp. The bombing of Tontine Street in 1917 brought about the highest number of British civilian dead as a result of an air raid during the war up until that point.
The inter war years saw a revival, with Folkestone exploiting its natural beauty – the Channel views, rolling hills, delightful parks and gardens – by marketing itself as “Fashionable” and “Spacious and Gracious”. Moreover, its popularity as a resort was enhanced by the Earl of Radnor’s “foreshore development” that included the building of the Rotunda, the largest unsupported concrete dome in Europe, swimming pool and boating lake, supplementing the existing Victoria Pier, switchback railway and the 1885 Leas water lift.
The town suffered heavy bombardment during the Second World War, destroying much of the harbour, but recovered as a seaside destination during the fifties and early sixties, which is when my Folkestone story began. The Rotunda, quaint, steep Old High Street with the revered Rock and Joke shops and the popular ferry route to Boulogne-sur-mer, kept the visitors coming and the locals entertained.
But, like so many other UK coastal resorts, it suffered a deep decline as the advent of cheap air fares, duty free and longer annual leave allowance, led to an escape to resorts where the sun was twenty degrees warmer and the beer ten degrees colder. Many of the much loved attractions and hotels closed, were demolished and converted into flats, and trade in the town slumped. Although the cross-channel ferry industry stopped at the turn of the century, Folkestone has retained its role as a point of departure to the continent with the opening of the Channel Tunnel in 1994.
The new Millennium brought a revival, aided by the philanthropy of former Saga owner, Sir Roger De Haan, who renovated and refurbished many of the buildings in the old town, offering the properties to creatives, provided education and sporting facilities (the latest of which the world’s first multi-storey skatepark), and restored and remodelled the derelict harbour area. The construction of up to a thousand apartments along the shoreline between the Leas Lift (currently closed) and the Harbour Arm is also now underway.
Since 2008, the Folkestone Triennial has showcased new works from established British and International artists, around half of each remain in the town once the exhibition is over. There are now around ninety such pieces placed outdoors around town.
De Haan’s influence and the arrival of the high speed rail link (only fifty four minutes from London) in 2007, has proved a happy marriage in rendering Folkestone more accessible. Comparatively cheap (but rising) house prices, the advantages of living by the sea, a vibrant dining scene and improving facilities, not least for children, have all led to a growing relocation of people, many of them young families, predominantly from London.
My love affair with Folkestone began at the age of ten when I was brought by my parents from my hometown of Rochester, forty-five miles away on the North Kent coast, on the first of a succession of summer holidays to the town. It was my mother’s admitted but modest pretensions to social mobility which led to the choice of Folkestone rather than the traditional “bucket and spade” resorts such as Herne Bay, Margate or Broadstairs.
Once I left home and moved around the country for study or work, visits became much less frequent, though I always retained my affection for the town. In fact, my parents long harboured the desire of retiring to Folkestone (on their last holiday together they had stayed in the Grand Burstin Hotel at the harbour), but with my mother’s relatively early passing, it never materialised. But their groundwork was not done in vain, as when the opportunity arose in 2016, my wife and I had no hesitation in moving here.
I have gathered together thirty two of my poems inspired by Folkestone, in which many of the themes and events I have outlined above are referenced and explored. One particular challenge has been whether to present them in a systematic way, for example, chronology, geography or subject matter, but ultimately, they are laid before you in an essentially random form, at least superficially.
Tony Quarrington 