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Divorce capital of Britain
Greetings from Blackpool, divorce capital of Britain - Living by the sea might seem like the good life, but research has shown that it can be more than driftwood, seaweed and the odd jellyfish that end up on the rocks. Britain's seaside resorts are the divorce capitals of the country, with the highest proportions of divorcees living in such places as Blackpool, Torbay, Hastings and Eastbourne. In Blackpool, the clear winner in the first geographic league table of divorce and separation, 17,578 people are either divorced or separated, amounting to more than one in six of the population. Just why so many seaside marriages are ending up as so much driftwood is not clear, but one theory is that stress, especially among hoteliers and landlords, puts too much strain on relationships. John Allen, based in Blackpool and a counsellor for Relate, said: "Twenty per cent of the people I see are hoteliers. It's a stressful life, leaving not much time for quality time with a partner." But Professor Charles Lewis of Lancaster University, who lives not far from Blackpool, believes the availability of cheap off-season accommodation adds to the problem. "Seaside resorts only have their main population for three months of the year. Accommodation is very cheap in winter. There are also thousands of extremely cheap hotels. It is a housing issue. I'd be surprised if stress, the Basil Fawlty effect, was more than a blip." An abundance of seasonal and part-time work also makes seaside towns attractive to those on low incomes, those perhaps newly single or claiming state benefits. And the holiday atmosphere, while making it easier to meet people, can also stress existing relationships. The league table, from the Office for National Statistics, was based on census data of 376 English and Welsh districts. Resorts dominate the top 10, with Blackpool closely followed by Hastings, Margate, Torquay, Penzance, Eastbourne, Portsmouth, Weymouth and Portland. While the fictitious TV character Basil Fawlty might suggest that running a resort hotel can lead to marital disharmony, just how serious the problem is has only emerged with the figures showing that Blackpool and Hastings are the only areas of the country where more than 15 per cent of people are divorced or separated – double the rate for Harrow and Chiltern, which are bottom of the ONS league. Only Corby (third) and Norwich (ninth) prevent the seaside resorts making a clean sweep of all top 10 slots. "It's not all roses living by the seaside. The hotel business leaves no quality time for family. You often find wives getting up very early to do the breakfasts, while husbands stay working late at the bar," said Mr Allen. Sue Orchard, a divorcee and former teacher, who moved to Blackpool to set up Sparkles Hotel, said: "I would say that around 50 per cent of the people I meet are divorced or separated, and about 30 per cent are single parents. There are 3,000 hoteliers and 2,000 accommodation providers in Blackpool and that's a very stressful position. You work 16 to 18 hours a day." Professor Cary Cooper, of the University of Manchester Institute of Science and Technology, said the primary "unhappiness" factor might lie with people moving in to set up B&Bs and hotels working too hard and having to put up with strangers in their houses all the time. "Often people who go to these seaside towns have big expectations – it's often somewhere they went when they were kids and have a wonderful memory of. They find their expectations exceed reality – there's a lot of drudgery." Facts about Sexual Disease in Blackpool
Blackpool has the highest rate of teenage pregnancy in the north-west and the third highest in the country Taboo or not taboo? : Teenage pregnancy "You can see them, when you walk down the street, people staring and going, ''How young is she and she's got a baby?'' but I don't care... I've brought my own flesh and bone in the world." These were the words uttered by 15-year-old Blackpool born Lizzy, who along with her 16-year-old sister Charlene appeared on ITV's Britain's Youngest Mothers. Such Daily Mail viewing was particularly poignant for me, as it was the eve of my foray into the cruel world of Clifton as a teenage mother. Most Britons are aware that their country has the highest teenage pregnancy rate in Europe, and it shows no signs of slowing. Growing up in a suburb of South East London, it was not unusual to see girls of around 15 to 18, sporting large bumps with their fake Louis Vuitton handbags and Tommy sport jumpers, or pushing prams holding screaming tots in tiny Reebok classics. Indeed this is an issue that touched my personal life: one of my school friends gave birth two weeks before our GCSEs. However, in the affluent bubble of Clifton, the sight of teen motherhood would be exceptional. Well I'm 19, and quite a spring chicken so with hoop earrings, a pashmina, a balloon and some stuffing I set off to find out The first issue was how to make myself look pregnant. After half an hour of some careful shifting of the above-mentioned props, during which my housemate helpfully contributed, "you just look like a bit of a fat bird," my boyfriend (and now the father of my child, with neither party wearing a wedding ring) and I leave our house to undertake the weekly shop in Clifton Down Sainsbury's. Just the same as every week, except now there were three of us. As a society we like to think we have moved on from times when pregnant teens were put in cages to be paraded round the village and be the target of a projectile of your choice, where the shame was so great fathers were forced to send their daughters away. But have we just replaced this with a metaphorical attack of looks on the victim? Everywhere I turned, I saw men and women look at my bump, my face, my bump again and then stare fastidiously at the floor. Those without the embarrassment factor would undertake the first three then stare for a few seconds more with a look of thinly veiled superiority. There was definitely no softening of expression at the thought of a fellow member of society carrying out the miracle of birth, no sweet smiles or, "when's it due?" It was like being in a fishbowl, with me the very naughty (and mortified) fish inside it. Next stop the Union, for a quick (non-alcoholic) drink in the Epi. Students are a fairly homogenous bunch, living in an environment distinctly lacking in husbands, wives and babies. Intruders are approached with caution, but I have to admit the male bouncer on the door was very accommodating and sweet. The female bouncer on the exit door, according to my boyfriend, gave me a terrific scowl, although this may be because by this point my bump was heading seriously South, and generating serious suspicion. What conclusions can I draw from this harrowing experience? My partner said he felt much more aware of his responsibilities to look after myself and our baby. Student reactions tended to be one and the same: that of looking, experiencing a millisecond of bemusement, followed by that liberal nonchalance as if it were the sort of thing they saw every day. And my view? New found respect for mothers across the globe. Being pregnant is very awkward, even if it was with some party decorations and a glorified scarf. Crime: A Typical Week in Blackpool:
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