This is The Guardian.

Today, Gen Z by the sea.

Why is it so hard for young people on England's coast?

So there, this is Golden Geese, the famous.

The Golden Geese.

It's a warm summer evening on the Lancashire coast, and I find myself joining a band,

fronted by a bunch of teenagers.

This one's called Fix Yourself. We just wrote lyrics about aggressiveness, I think.

I'm in Morecambe, in the town's West End, at one of the few remaining youth services here.

It's called More Music and it's a charity operating out of an old music hall.

And it offers local people the chance to come and make music and form bands.

I'm here for one of their youth nights.

Places like these are rare, and the fact that it is here in the middle of the West End, which is quite an underprivileged area.

You know, maybe I'm being a bit romantic about it, but it feels like a beacon, like, you know, just like a ray of light.

Yeah. about it, but it feels like a beacon, like, you know, just like a ray of light. This town is special to me. I grew up here. There are memories everywhere I go.

On my way here, I pass my first boyfriend's house and the derelict site of the fairground where we had our first date, holding hands on the slippery slip.

There's the Stone Jetty where my friends and I used to drink cup-price bottles of cider,

and an empty hollow where the outdoor swimming pool used to be.

I was desperate to leave here growing up.

But now, I look back on my time here with a certain kind of fondness.

I often think of it as it's got like echoes of happiness.

There's echoes of what it used to be here and you can see it with, you know, abandoned big stores or abandoned venues.

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