Weston Pier burned down this morning.
With regards to a recent visit (see news) I'm wondering if the giant plastic ice-cream has melted (probably) and whether or not the large lady-in-striped-swimsuit-with-hole-cutout-for-face has turned to ashes (almost definitely), and if I will ever get to see the glittery pink, fibre-glass vulture again (certainly not). I already miss the donut counter. Is it tasteless to enjoy our nonsense snaps from the day out, or is it 'what she would have wanted'?
Reality is that the day we three went to Weston, we wandered around a deserted beach resort, lights flashing to attract no one and beach-front trains trundling empty up and down the pier. 'clang, clang, clang!' I can't help thinking we were making the best of a situation - it can be so bleak and sad, like those clichéd echoes of voices in a room long since vacated.
I'm probably drawn to this pier because it reminds me of those I genuinely like - Brighton's West Pier, or Clevedon. And then only because they are old, and stretch out to sea looking fragile but are full of stories. I was a student in Brighton before the West Pier burnt up and fell over and always loved it more than the Grand.
Do you think you can tell a person by the piers they like? and if you were a pier, what pier would you be?
It's a very sad day for lots of people who make their living and find a great, familiar comfort in this structure and all it offers.
Weston Pier R.I.P.
{Today's soundtrack: Steve Lamacq}
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