Sunny Rhyl used to swarm with holidaymakers – and then it died

This former holiday destination is said to be the second most dangerous town in the country. Amid the soaring crime rates, Matthew Barnett talks to locals who still care deeply for the area

Rhyl, a byword for deprivation, crime and urban decay (Matthew Barnett)

Mention the name Rhyl and for many people it conjures an image of family holidays on the North Wales coast, dodgem cars and long sandy beaches, albeit a bit dated now. For a certain generation it might trigger memories of mum and dad struggling to fit assorted sunbeds, spades and overexcited kids into the back of a Ford Anglia. But those boom days as one of Britain’s most popular holiday destinations have long gone.

As with many other seaside towns the cold wind of changing holiday habits began to blow ever more insistently from the 1970s as foreign travel and the relative glamour of the Spanish Costas and Greek tavernas became more affordable. And while other Welsh resorts either redefined themselves or, like Aberystwyth, had a university community to provide meaning and context, Rhyl has struggled with what almost amounts to an existential dilemma centred on its very identity.

The cumulative effect has been catastrophic, not only economically but socially. According to the Welsh Index of Multiple Deprivation, published every five years, two of its electoral wards are officially the most deprived in Wales, West Rhyl 2 being ranked as the very worst out of 1,896 of the country’s “lower super output” areas. It is also ranked “the most dangerous medium-sized town” in Clwyd, and the second most dangerous in the whole of England, Wales and Northern Ireland, the most common crimes being violence and sexual offences. Moreover, these crimes, along with drug abuse, possession of weapons and public order offences are deemed to be worsening.