This place has no dark side, unless it’s hidden deep, deep in its repressed past
What’s going for it? Chichester is so generally lovely, it’s impossible to be rude about it. For a city of its relatively small size, it’s well-rounded, nicely brought up. Every base is covered. It has ancient history – buttercrosses, green men, bell towers, Roman baths, the works – and fine contemporary architecture, including a surprisingly super selection of postwar homes. It has the best seaside, up the road in the dreamy dunes of West Wittering, and the beautiful hills of the South Downs (including – top trivia – Britain’s only yew forest). It also punches well above its weight culturally, with a Chagall stained-glass window in the cathedral, film festivals and poetry slams, and the Festival theatre and Pallant House art gallery’s Hepworths and Hamiltons. Traffic on the A27 and house prices aside – a mighty big aside – this place has no dark side, unless it’s hidden deep in its repressed past. It is sunshine in bricks and mortar, which, for some, might be the most annoying thing in the universe.
The case against… Those looking for even a bit of edge should probably go to Portsmouth. There could be a touch fewer chains in town.
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