A seaside town with a thriving cultural scene, a string of Blue Flag beaches and beautiful scenery for miles around: welcome to Falmouth, Britain’s most depressing town.
This surprising and unwanted distinction came about thanks to a poll by ilivehere.com, a website that allows users to submit reviews – generally humorous and usually negative – about the places where they live.
The historic harbor on Cornwall’s south coast was a surprise entry on this year’s list of the top 20 bleakest towns and cities, but a late rise saw it rise to the top spot, beating perennial jokes such as Peterborough. (second), Luton (11th) and Swindon (13th).
The number one ranking has left many in Cornwall stunned, with even the poll organizers appearing a little surprised by the shock result.
“We have to admit that we know absolutely nothing about Falmouth,” the ilivehere.com team admitted. “We Googled it and it looks picturesque, but we’re sure it’s a facade it’s trading on, and who are we to question the wisdom of the crowd?”
I visited this week to get to the bottom of the mystery. Granted, Falmouth wasn’t looking its best on a gray February morning, but even in the winter drizzle I couldn’t see much to dampen the mood. Rows of pretty, pastel-colored Victorian terraces tumble down a steep hill to The Moor, the city’s vibrant central square, full of bustling cafes, restaurants, pubs and shops.
One shopkeeper, Julianne, laughed at the idea that Falmouth was somehow considered depressing. “Everyone’s talking about it, as you can imagine,” she said. “It’s ridiculous. I’ve only lived here for five years, and compared to where I lived before it’s amazing.”
Reviews on ilivehere.com pointed to holiday crowds, second home owners and the proliferation of Airbnbs, turning an authentic harbor into a “socially cleansed fishing theme park for DFLs [Down From Londons]”. I asked Julianne how these issues had affected the mood in the city.
“That’s a problem, but it’s not depressing,” she replied. “Those of us who live here love it just the same, and if you’re visiting, it’s probably because you find the city attractive too.”
As I said goodbye, I turned onto the busy main street that runs along the waterfront. Here and there, narrow “opes” (alleys) lead to the quay, from where you can look out onto the vast Carrick Roads, the deep natural harbor where ships gathered centuries ago before setting sail for North America. convoy. At one of these places I met David and Pamela, who had traveled to the city from their home on the Lizard for a day. They were incredulous at the poll results, although they also expressed concern that Falmouth had entered a period of decline.
“It’s going downhill, that’s for sure,” they told me. “If you walk down the main street there are a lot of shops that are empty or look very run down and their signs are falling off. There are a lot of students here and they have had a very positive impact. But as a student you don’t have that much to spend.”
Both were more optimistic about holidaymakers, who they said contributed a lot to the city financially, although they noted it was sad to look across at night and see so little light.
As I walked along the main strip towards the Church of King Charles the Martyr (Falmouth traditionally leans towards the Royalist cause), I couldn’t help but notice a number of boarded up shop fronts. It indicated difficult times for local merchants, although in most cases the city’s trade seemed exceptionally healthy. There were plenty of shoppers walking in and out of the doorways, with a pleasant mix of big box stores and independent retailers. There was also a welcome lack of pound shops and pawn shops.
On the edge of the main shopping area, next to the National Maritime Museum Cornwall, I stopped at Pysk, a family-run fishmonger. From behind a counter stocked with haddock, mackerel and squid, co-owner Giles admitted he had never heard of Falmouth’s new status, and was skeptical when I put forward the theory that second homes were the source of the problem.
“It’s a strange result,” he said. ‘I can name six places in the area that are much worse, with many more second homes. St Mawes is dead in winter, but Falmouth is vibrant all year round thanks to the students.”
Since 2005, Falmouth has been home to the only independent university in Cornwall, and in recent years students have become an integral part of the town’s social fabric. With an enrollment of around 6,500, they form a significant proportion of the population, which in Falmouth and neighboring Penryn is around 30,000. However, some fear that all those students, combined with the demand for second homes and holiday rentals, are creating a housing crisis – with locals being pushed to the margins by rising property prices.
As lunch approached, I wandered to the south side of the city, where, overlooking the coastline, elegant Edwardian hotels sit next to gleaming luxury apartment complexes.
Down at Gyllyngvase Beach, dogs ran along the shoreline as their owners trailed behind them, huddled in their waterproofs. It was here that I came across Chris trying to lead his little terrier away from a family of holidaymakers enjoying pasties. When asked why he thought Falmouth had received so many votes, he suggested deliberate self-sabotage.
“I think it is a ruse, and some on social media have decided to use this survey to deliberately damage Falmouth’s reputation and prevent people from moving here,” he said.
“I have lived all over the place and can safely say that Falmouth is lush, but at the same time there are many families who cannot afford to live here. However, in some villages outside the city it is much worse. St Mawes, Flushing, Maenporth… they’ve all been gutted.’
I took the scenic route back to the city center, following the coast around Pendennis Point and walking past the castle built by Henry VIII to guard against marauding French privateers. I ran into Tamara and her spaniel, Jake. The Falmouth resident acknowledged that the city has its fair share of problems. Like David and Pamela, she noted that there has been a lack of economic growth in recent years, coupled with a decline in community cohesion.
“Some of my neighbors are second home owners, and they are nice and contribute a lot to the city when they are here,” she said. “But there are entire streets that have been taken over by student housing or holiday rentals. Inevitably, a lack of community comes from that lack of sustainability.”
But like others, she laughed off the idea that anyone could actually consider this part of Cornwall to be depressing. “It actually has a lot to offer: good beaches, fantastic pubs, lots of great places to eat and a very diverse mix of people.”
She looked up at the gray sky and added, “The weather could be better, though.”