Ian Jarrett grew up in a popular English seaside resort that - in its heyday - seemed to be the home of endless golden summers. It fell into a hole but now, thanks to travel pattern changes encouraged by the green revolution, its time may have come again.

Margate was once the day trip of choice for tens of thousands of Londoners, who would spill out of the steam trains and walk 100 metres to a strip of golden sand where donkey rides, Punch and Judy shows, lettered rock sellers and ice cream and candy floss stalls would keep families entertained until it was time to hop on the late evening train back to the capital.

Margate didn't have the bohemian chic of Brighton, where the Royals took their mistresses, nor the flashiness of Blackpool, or the genteel elegance of Bournemouth or Eastbourne.

But it had everything that Mum, Dad and the kids seeking an escape from London could ask for.

But then it all fell in a heap. Affordable holiday packages to Spain sent families off to Benidorm and Torremolinos for sand and sangria, but they had to sacrifice a few day trips to Margate while they saved up their pesetas.

I have returned frequently to Margate since moving to Australia but now find these journeys a depressing experience. Sadly, the town has withered through neglect and now appears as a shadow of its old kiss-me-quick self.

I still recall the sounds of Margate: Music from the pubs; the bingo callers, the tannoyed announcements for parents to pick up children lost on the beach; the man who sold newspapers outside Dreamland fun fair, whose sales technique was to shout "'Orrible Murder" whether that was the big news of the day or not.

The sea air, always referred to as "bracing" on seaside postcards, gave life and energy to Margate itself. Today the air is heavy with disappointment.

Despite the town's scuffed appearance, it is hard not to retain affection for the place. Your hometown is always the place where you come from and invariably it has a special place in your memories.

Whenever I think of this particular stretch of English coastline, poking its nose towards the point where the English Channel merges with the North Sea, I think of endless, shimmering summer fun by the beach. My memory has locked out the rainy days and recalls only the best of growing up in an uncomplicated environment of youthful devil-may-care.

Now Margate for me is a bit like finding a favourite uncle falling on hard times and sleeping rough.

Now, once-Marvellous Margate has become Miserable Margate. Neglected and rejected.

In Graham Swift's book, Last Orders – later made into a film starring Michael Caine, Helen Mirren, Bob Hoskins and Ray Winstone - a group of mates from London drives to Margate to spread the ashes of a colleague into the sea from the end of the jetty.

It is a cold, blustery day in April and ‘Raysy' (Ray Winstone) says of Margate, "It doesn't look like journey's end, it doesn't look like a final resting place, where you'd come to finish your days and find peace and contentment for ever and ever. It ain't the Blue Bayou."

And of the amusement parlours and ice cream stalls along Marine Terrace, ‘Raysy' adds, "It's like the buildings are a row of front-line troops drawn up to put a brave show on it, but it don't help exactly that they've been dressed up in joke uniforms."

When UK train robber Ronnie Biggs gave up his life on the run in Brazil, he said he missed Britain, most especially having a pint with his mates at a pub in Margate. Today, Ronnie's watering hole, the Cinque Ports, has changed its name to the Punch and Judy Tavern and if Biggsy saw Margate today he might think he was better off staying locked up in his prison cell.
But all is not lost, it seems,

Clive Aslet, Editor at Large of Country Life magazine, wrote last week, "I increasingly feel that I am living through a film where seemingly random incidents are not random at all, and add up to form a story.

"The birds are gathering on the telephone lines; soon, à la Hitchcock, they'll be here in flocks. Britain is going green."

Aslet said climate change "is triangulating with two economic factors, recession and inflation".
And he doesn't believe going green will be all bad.

"Think of the time we'll all save. Men will be delighted at the shopping: there won't be any. The idea of rushing to three places around the country in the course of a weekend will come to seem as strange to our children as it would have done to our grandparents.

"We won't have to spend all that time in the car. We'll invent a new definition of luxury, based on qualities that really are rare and precious, such as privacy, quiet, dark skies and local food."
To some extent, Aslet said this was already happening in the travel industry, "where some of the smartest Indian Ocean resorts take away your shoes (who needs them on a beach?).

"The multitude will follow the tastemakers, but probably not by burning carbon to the Maldives.

"Margate," Aslet said, "your hour has come."

Let's hope so.

IAN JARRETT is based in Fremantle, Western Australia from where he travels frequently in Asia on assignments for travel magazines. He is a member of the BamBoo Alliance, a group of leading travel writers in the region and more articles can be found at www.thetransitcafe.com . He can be contacted at ianjarrett@mac.com