Selsey is the southernmost town in Sussex, isolated on a low-lying headland at the end of a single road from Chichester. The Solent washes up against one beach, the English Channel the other. The town has a very long maritime history, although it's all been downhill since the Norman invasion and today only a few commercial boats set sail from the pebbly beach. With a population of ten thousand Selsey is the largest town on the ManhoodPeninsula (don't giggle), and is unlikely to fare well if global warming gets serious. It's not quite a resort, more a sleepy retro bolthole, but with several fascinating stories to tell.
The most famous thing in Selsey is the headland itself, better known as Selsey Bill. It's not so much a point as a long sharp bend, a steep accumulation of pebbles interrupted by intermittent breakwaters. It's not especially easy to walk round either, the coastal footpath taking to the shingle where concrete defences have been deemed more important than a scenic promenade. I only made it round the bill proper because the tide was low, stepping carefully over wooden groynes, concrete jetties and several unstable pebbly slopes, which isn't something I guess the local retired population regularly attempt. They're more likely to be parked up near Marine Gardens, staring out through the windscreen towards the Isle of Wight after driving here in their car. Madness.
If you've now worked out what the first backing track is, click here to jump in at the correct point in the song.
The land immediately adjacent to Selsey Bill used to be Broadreeds holiday camp. It opened in the 1930s, notionally with a Spanish theme, and boasted a boating lake, tennis courts, tiled chalets and a bracing air. Then in the 1960s Pontins took over and promotedthe camp with an enthusiasm it probably didn't deserve ("Broadreeds gives flamenco sparkle to your holiday" "That siesta mood comes easily as you relax by the open-air swimming pool" "You cannot fail to miss the fiesta feeling"). Alas real Spanish holidays soon lured punters away, and the 1987 hurricane eventually did enough damage to shut the place permanently, so the site's since been transformed into a very ordinary housing estate.
The East Beach is longer and also friendlier to promenading on a mobility scooter. At the southern end is Gibbet Field where two 18th century smugglers were hung in chains as a warning to others, an event marked by a blue plaque round the back of someone's garage. Further along is Selsey Lifeboat Station, recently relocated onshore, where a large orange Shannon-class vessel waits to be dragged out across the shingle on caterpillar tracks when duty calls. A few fisherpeople still trade from huts below the promenade, including Selsey Shellfish Direct, Julie's Hand-Dressed Crab and Jim's Fish (he's currently offering large sea bass for £14). And if your eyes follow the sweep of the bay round past Pagham Harbour, that town you can see glinting in the distance is Bognor Regis... a vista which inspired our second musical track of the day.
The composer Eric Coates once lived in Selsey, or rather had a second home here as an escape from his Baker Street flat. He's probably best known for writing the Dambusters March, but also composed the theme tube for the BBC's longest running radio programme. Inspiration for 'By The Sleepy Lagoon' came on a warm, still summer evening in 1930 while he was looking out across deep blue waters towards Bognor "which looked pink — almost like an enchanted city with the blue of the Downs behind it". The fully orchestrated piece was finished back in London and has been an intrinsic part of Desert Island Discs for the last 80 years. When you hear the languid opening bars your mind's eye may be transported to some tropical isle but you should instead be imagining Bognor Regis... and now I've stood beside the blue plaque on the beachfront I fear I always will.
The town centre follows the High Street south towards the sea. It kicks off with St Peter'schurch, whose medieval nave was rebuilt here in the 19th century leaving the chancel adrift a mile away beside Pagham harbour. Further down are a cinema pavilion, sufficient pubs and a town hall that looks more like a village hall. Along the way are several thatched cottages, plenty of cafes for spending your pension in and some effusive attempts at Platinum Jubilee window displays. Union Jacks flap here even in a normal week. The family butchers bake their own pies and sell safely unspicy sausages. The Victory Club has recently disaffiliated from the British Legion and hosts a Meat Raffle on Sundays. I got the sense that Selsey's residents might be well pleased if the government decided to bring back imperial measurements, if indeed they ever stopped using them.
Selsey's most famous resident was Sir Patrick Moore, who moved here in 1967 to take advantage of the town's low levels of light pollution and favourable atmospheric conditions. Not only did he build an observatory in his garden but every 'Sky at Night' show from 2004 onwards was recorded here, so I was keen to make a pilgrimage to the UK's crucible of amateur astronomy. I walked down West Street thinking "these houses are too humble", but just beyond some flats and a terrace came a tall thatched house behind big gates and a long stone wall, and I thought "aah yes, that garden looks big enough for an outside broadcast". A blue plaque confirms his surname was actually Caldwell-Moore and lists his talents as Astronomer, Author, Broadcaster, Keen Cricketer and Musician.
This part-Tudor cottage was bought by Queen guitarist Brian May in 2008 to prevent Sir Patrick sliding into poverty, and sold after his death in 2012 once it became apparent a suburban street in Selsey was a very poor location for a museum. The house's original name was Farthings, but I love how the new owners have tweaked the sign on the gate to read FarThings, which is pitch perfect in remembrance of a man with an overriding passion for telescopes. Alas his original observatory no longer stands because it was destroyed by a tornado in 1998, but such are the perils of living three streets from the sea. The town continues to celebrate the life of its local hero, indeed there's a lecture on Sir Patrick's contribution to lunar mapping at the town hall in a couple of weeks' time. And then down on Marine Parade there's this...
It's a slightly creepy seal with the face of Sir Patrick Moore, complete with monocle, and brightly decorated with constellations and a line-up of planets. It was unveiled last year by Brian May, who's it seems is always coming back to Selsey, and is part of a town trail of decorated seals - I think the last in situ. I particularly like how it's been positioned at the foot of a telescope, which may more normally be used to view the Isle of Wight rather than distant nebulae but it's still an excellent juxtaposition. And the 'Sky and Stars' Seal has brought us back to the beachfront on the headland where I started, and which I'd long wanted to visit. I've even been to Selsey Bill. I'm satisfied I've got this far.
