Let’s move to Walton-on-the-Naze, Essex: it has seen off the sea for centuries

The waves, I should add, do not need encouragement. The soft marshy sludge and crumbly fudge of the land is disappearing

What’s going for it? The Naze, since you’re asking, is the promontory or “ness” of land, colonised by seals and barely above sea level, curled come-hither into the North Sea like a finger beckoning the waves. The waves, I should add, do not need encouragement. The soft marshy sludge and crumbly fudge of the land round here is fast disappearing, with bungalows lined up like King Canutes before the sea with nought but a strip of green, promenade shelters and beach huts as the first line of defence. Not that the town itself seems overly concerned, yet, and on the plus side, you can find fantastic fossils fallen from the cliffs. It’s a lovely, jovial spot, with the air of a seafaring community that has seen off the sea for centuries. It’s the unpretentious twin to hoity Frinton next door, all bric-a-brac shops, caffs and purveyors of buckets and spades, oddities like the Naze Tower, glossed over with a becoming 1950s sheen, as if Telstar were still high in the hit parade, and the climate emergency was a worry decades into the future.

The case against The original town of Walton is miles out at sea. You have been warned.

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