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I WAS born in Southend-on-Sea with candy floss and chip grease running through my veins, so I have a real soft spot for an English seaside resort.

And with its blonde sandy beaches, vintage ice-cream parlours and shellfish stalls, the Kent coastal town of Ramsgate does not disappoint.

Cockles aside, my partner and I have come for the weekend to check out one of its quirkiest attractions, This Museum Is (Not) Obsolete, which is part studio, part science lab and part techno time capsule.

It’s owned and run by Sam Battle, AKA Look Mum No Computer, who represented Britain in the Eurovision Song Contest this month.

Now back in Ramsgate proudly brandishing his ONE point, Sam’s museum houses his vast collection of eccentric inventions, retro computers, analogue synthesisers and other audio oddities that hum, squeak and beep.

It’s brilliant and bonkers in equal measure.

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Staring up at the flashing 1,000 Oscillator Megadrone, I’m assured the museum is very hands-on and you can touch and play with almost everything.

Fans travel from across the country to see Sam’s creations, including a Raleigh Chopper/synthesiser, a flame-throwing Henry Hoover and my favourite, the Furby organ — a fully functioning instrument ­power­ed by rows of the singing fluffy toys.

After an hour happily geeking out, we wander down to the harbour — the only one in the UK still officially granted royal status.

There, primary-coloured fishing boats bob alongside shiny yachts, while cafe-bars and vintage bike shops hide under the arches nearby.

Ramsgate can be a little gritty in parts — there’s no shortage of vape and betting shops — but that’s part of its charm.

And like its coastal neighbours, Broadstairs, Deal and Margate, it’s attracting more and more artists, musicians and independent businesses each year.

A short stroll from the harbour is Addington Street, the town’s indie quarter. It has a hip artsy vibe with renovated Victorian villas, vintage blue street signs and shops such as Vinyl Head Records and No.36 by SP, which sells fancy homewares.

We stop for a pint at the Queen Charlotte, a cute little pub filled with retro curios; think fringed lamps, a ship-shaped cocktail bar and a ­vintage record player from where music by The Carpenters flows.

But Ramsgate isn’t just about kitsch pubs and fantastical Furby organs.

Beneath the town is a network of tunnels that stretch for two and a half miles.

Originally a tunnel railway that connected the town to neighbouring Broadstairs, it was expanded in 1939 to serve as an air-raid shelter for Ramsgate residents.

On the 90-minute guided tour through the dimly lit tunnels, I learn of Ramsgate’s remarkable resilience and community during the war.

We’re staying at The House at Ramsgate, a chichi boutique hotel (formerly Albion House) on the seafront.

From our sea-view room, we can see the world’s largest Wetherspoons, The Royal Victoria Pavilion, which spans 11,000 sq ft in a prime spot on the beach.

Instead we relax with a cocktail in the quieter lounge at the hotel followed by a dinner of locally caught crab cakes and ribeye steak.

After breakfast, Sunday is spent blowing out the cobwebs walking the coastal path to Broadstairs.

The scenic two-mile route links the sandy beaches along the coast.

A few years ahead of Ramsgate in its gentrification, Broadstairs feels like its more polished sister.

We find a farmers’ market in the gardens of Bleak House, where Charles Dickens wrote David Copperfield, and stop for a drink at the Royal Albion, his old watering hole, before wandering back to Ramsgate.

One thing’s for sure, whether you are into funky retro tech or sunny seaside strolls — or even a bit of both — Ramsgate is well worth a visit this summer.