In its heyday, families came from all around to stay in one of its static caravans. They enjoyed brisk walks along the Seasalter shoreline, day trips into nearby Whitstable, and of course the bucolic serenity of Oysterville itself.
In 1976, Oysterville was taken over by a dubious woman by the name of Miss Antibes. Frivolous family holidays were not her thing and quickly Oysterville lost the carefree cacophony of children playing and took on an altogether more clandestine tone.
Soon, Miss Antibes' caravans could be rented by the hour and gentleman of a certain age and means became the familiar faces of Oysterville.
Local residents were understandably somewhat perturbed. However, Miss Antibes' wit and charm managed to assuage the moral concerns of even the most pious of her neighbours.
As time went on though, Oysterville's clientele became ever more crude and base, and it seemed as though even Miss Antibes herself had lost the desire to keep the place going.
Nonetheless, in 1999, her planning application to enable guests to inhabit the caravans year round was denied by Canterbury County Council. The reasons given were to do with tidal movements and flood defences, although locals suspected something more sordid in their decision.
This spelled the end for Oysterville.
It's not known exactly when Miss Antibes left; one day she was there as ebullient as ever, the next she was gone.
Oysterville appeared to sustain itself for a time in her absence, in an anarchic sort of way, until the authorities saw fit to close the caravan park once and for all.
And so the caravans sit there still, windows smashed, net curtains ripped, and sides sagging.*