‘I’ve just heard a coronavirus refugee demanding kumquats’
Jan Etherington and her fellow Suffolk villagers were ‘social distancing’ – until the crowds arrived
Ilive on the Suffolk coast, and let me just say that if I didn’t already live at the seaside, I’d definitely want to come here at a time like this. It’s understandable that city dwellers want to swap their cramped and fetid metropolis for the fresh air of the coast – even in early spring, when only brave daffodils are poking their heads out and the East Anglian wind is so relentless, you want to scream at it.
March is a quiet month here, and the towns and villages belong to the permanent residents. We can park, we’re often the only ones in the local deli and we’re not yet braced for the arrival of Easter tourists.
Lovely as this all is, under normal circumstances our local businesses and attractions would be delighted to welcome a surge of visitors off season. But these are not normal times. My village of barely 400 residents lies across the harbour from Southwold, which (along with Aldeburgh) is one of Suffolk’s most popular seaside towns.
Last week, I wrote in this newspaper that I could happily walk the dog and go shopping while observing social distancing in my sparsely populated community.
Not any more. In just a week, everything has changed.
“Small communities, with an older demographic, are being swamped by visitors and second homers, who are treating the crisis like an excuse for a holiday and putting those of us who live here at serious risk,” was one headline.
I’d say. In Southwold, at the weekend, I had to step off the pavement, into the road, so great were the thronging crowds.
I was just on a quick whizz out for dog food but dozens of visitors were stopping to chat with each other, and to shop. The sun was out. It felt like a bank holiday.
The tiny greengrocers in Southwold had a queue – something I have never seen before. My neighbour stuck her head round the door, rolled her eyes and said, “I’ve just heard someone demanding kumquats.”
In the butchers, someone asked for two chickens. The butcher, reasonably, said he was sorry but it was only one chicken each, as he had regular customers and wanted enough for everyone. The customer became very rude and aggressive, until a local shopper stepped in and told him off.
My friend, Wendy, noticed a sign in the Co-op saying “Please be polite to staff ”. She asked a young shelf-stacker whether it was really necessary. Yes, she was told, because people were being difficult. Someone had asked “Have you got any loo roll?” and she’d told him “Sorry, we’ve sold out”.
“Ha!” he stormed, “I bet you’ve got some ferreted away at the back, for staff.” Confrontations like these seem to be getting more frequent and shopworkers on the retail front line, keeping so much of the country going, simply aren’t being treated with any respect.
“I’m worried it might lead to an ‘us and them’ situation,” said Wendy.
This is incredibly sad because most of us appreciate the contribution second homeowners make to our community. They bring money and support businesses, cafés and pubs. Because they rent out their homes, the properties are smart and freshly painted. We know when they’re coming. The early birds drift in for
Easter, then again for the summer half term and, by July and August, we can’t park outside our own houses. That’s fine. It’s the price we pay for living somewhere beautiful.
Of course, many second homeowners are responsible and sensitive to the current climate.
A number of them have contacted we locals and reassured us that they are bringing their own food supplies (and not stripping the local shops) and are self-isolating with their children. Some have given their contact numbers to neighbours and offered to shop, or keep in touch, while this strange situation lasts.
Our local newspaper published a request: “Our village has a particularly vulnerable demographic and many are concerned that visitors from higher risk areas will spread the virus here. If you see anyone behaving selfishly or irresponsibly, please have a polite word with them, pointing out that our residents have been scrupulously careful not to spread the virus. We are relying on our visitors to help protect our older and vulnerable villagers.”
The sun is shining and our population is tripling, as the coronavirus refugees come back to their second homes and day trippers continue to pour in.
All we ask is that you think. Because to descend like an invading army, just to escape a virus that you are very likely bringing with you… well, for the first time, our quiet seaside community feels unsafe – and we’re scared.
The tiny greengrocers in Southwold had a queue – something I have never seen before