One thing or a mother: My ode to Worthing

I grew up in Hove (actually), and Worthing always seemed like the less-cool little brother down the coast.

When I started working for the Herald & Gazette, I realised there was more to the town than it just being a place my nan and grand-dad came to for fish and chips occasionally. But I was still happy living in what seemed like the epicentre of this part of the world. And the place where the cool kids belonged. (Side note – my husband said I have never been cool, so perhaps I shouldn’t have worried at the time!)

But then we decided to buy a house... It turns out that just because you’re a born-and-bred Hoveite, you don’t get some kind of special discount on exorbitant property prices. And journalism may well be a fantastic career but, unfortunately, it’s never going to make you mega-rich.

So we were forced to house hunt outside of my cosy Brighton and Hove comfort zone, and found ourselves buying a flat in Shoreham.

We had five years enjoying the fab riverside community there, and then we found out I was pregnant. It was time to move again, and in order to afford a house, we found ourselves heading even further west.

Unable to make a decision at the best of times, and at this point full of pregnancy hormones and liable to burst into tears at any point, viewing houses was ‘fun’.

Could I move to Worthing? Would I be happy bringing up my family here? Maybe I could just move back to Hove when I won the lottery...!

This was seven years ago, and those concerns seem almost laughable to me now.

We have a lovely house (made even lovelier thanks to some building work recently – bet you can’t wait for a column all about that drama!), I’ve made fantastic friends, my children go to a great school and nursery, and we have so much to do on our doorstep.

An attraction we love is the Worthing wheel, which is being taken down this week after a second successful summer season on the beach.

As I rode it again a couple of weeks ago, I looked over our town, its beauty highlighted by some early autumn sunshine.

Seeing it laid out below me, what I had already realised soon after making ‘the move’ west was abundantly clear.

Our town isn’t the poor relation. We have everything Brighton and Hove can offer. And I’d argue it’s almost better here.

We have cheaper parking, historic cinemas, a less-congested seafront, a modern swimming pool (with a view!), easier access to the town centre (cycle lanes notwithstanding, perhaps), an unspoiled pier, great theatrical offerings (Covid permitting), great schools, plenty of shops (with interesting new ones popping up all the time), restaurants serving delicious food, trendy bars, cosy pubs... The list just goes on.

Sure, I still like going to Brighton and Hove, but I’m always happy to come home.

I sometimes wonder if my friends who still live in East Sussex feel sorry for me. I see them almost giving me that sympathetic head tilt accompanied by a look that says ‘poor you, you had too move to Worthing’. Maybe I was guilty of doing that myself, too, once. But now I know better. In moving here I feel like I’ve been let in on what was once a well-kept secret. This is where the cool kids are really at.

So this is my ode to Worthing – my beautiful adopted town.

Celebrating my birthday in daytime style