In the 1880s, amateur photographer George Woods packed up his family and left London for the fresh air of Hastings. He wasn’t alone. Plenty of Victorians fled the capital’s smog for the coast, and Woods captured it all in black-and-white: women twirling parasols, fishermen bent over their nets, clay pipes dangling from their mouths. His images now hang in the Fishermen’s Museum — and, oddly enough, Woods once lived in the very house I call home.
I made the same move six months ago, though for less romantic reasons: London’s prices pushed me out. What began as a hunt for affordable housing has turned into something more. Waking up to sea views, hearing gulls instead of sirens — those small things stick. And there’s a kind of optimism here, a scrappy entrepreneurial spirit London seems to have lost.
Like many seaside towns, Hastings and its neighbor St Leonards-on-Sea fell on hard times in the 1970s and ’80s. Paint peeled, buildings sagged. But in recent years, artists, restaurateurs, and café owners have been breathing new life into the place. St Leonards has led the charge — Kings Road now buzzes with bars and restaurants, while Goat Ledge, a wildly painted café on the beach, serves croissants, coffee, and craft beer to sun-soaked locals.
Hastings itself is catching up fast. By the pier, the Samphire Sauna offers hot-and-cold plunges into the English Channel. Around the corner, the Source skatepark rattles with boards, and in the courtyard, Brewing Brothers pours local beer straight from the tap.
History is never far away. Hastings Castle, raised by William the Conqueror in 1066, still commands the cliffs. Its story is told in the Bayeux Tapestry, which — in an irony not lost on locals — is on loan to the British Museum until 2027, instead of being displayed here in the town that made its history. A short walk away, West Hill recalls John Logie Baird’s early experiments with mechanical television, while old smuggler trails wind into the Old Town, now lined with vintage shops and tucked-away cafés.
And then there are the simple pleasures. From my study, the sea fills the window. A short train ride along the coast takes you to Relais Cooden Beach, a former family home turned seaside hotel. Striped deckchairs, an Aromatherapy Associates spa, and a terrace for sipping Kent wine as the sun sinks over the water. Later, a stroll along the sand under a sky full of stars.
Hastings is not just a place to escape London. It’s a place that keeps surprising you — the way it did George Woods a century and a half ago, and the way it still does me now.
