There is no mistaking the Grand Burstin. This monstrous 550-bed hotel, shaped like an ocean liner and piebald with disrepair, looms over Folkestone harbour and the English Channel. Last November, some of the render from the facade above its main entrance fell off without warning and two hotel guests had to be taken to hospital.
The Burstin’s sorry state reflects the fortunes of this seaside town. By the time the hotel was completed, back in the 1980s, the British beach holiday had already peaked, and cheap flights and package tourism were busily carting clients off to sunnier destinations overseas. When I first stayed in the hotel a couple of years ago, my room smelled of stale cigarettes and the top floors were filled with asylum seekers fresh from the Channel.
This time there was scaffolding up for much-needed maintenance. My room was clean, with a waterfront view and represented very good value at £34 for the night. It felt relaxed, more like a holiday destination.
Seaside resorts all over the UK have struggled in recent decades. The likes of Folkestone and its close confederates Hastings and Margate, once the watering holes of royalty – King Edward VII was a Folkestone regular – have all fallen on hard times. In a 2021 government study of England’s most income-deprived places, Hastings was the 14th worst, Thanet (including Margate) 30th, and Folkestone 82nd (out of 316). And that is despite the fact that all three are located in the south-east, the nation’s wealthiest corner.