Sometimes, it’s worth the residents of some of Kent’s most popular spots taking a step back and reflecting.

After all, if you believed all you read on local Facebook sites you’d think pretty much every town in the county had become a festering hole of decline and crime.

People complain about Whitstable, Margate, Folkestone and all the other emerging ‘hotspots’ as if everything should remain firmly rooted in the 1960s. A very different era and one where our demands – as consumers – were so very different. We should, instead, be celebrating their efforts in reinvention and not expecting all ills to be solved overnight.

Take Canterbury, for example. How many times does the refrain “it’s not what it was” echo around the social media sites dedicated to it?

A once-majestic honeypot for tourists ruined by a declining shopping offering, too many students (a refrain heard from in time immemorial), antisocial behaviour and everything else in between. Or, at least, so the naysayers would have you believe.

When I was growing up in Ashford, Canterbury was the go-to destination for shopping and entertainment – a short drive to a place (sorry Ashford) which was infinitely nicer than my hometown.

While work on the Channel Tunnel link decimated anything Ashford had to offer back then, Canterbury had shops, a cinema and a youthful exuberance for somewhere so dripping in history.

Yes, the roads were frequently a pain in the backside, but what do you expect from a medieval city hemmed in by walls? It was an expected nuisance for visiting a popular place.

But as I travelled into the city last weekend, something dawned on me: I’d not actually been into the city centre for about five years.

Given all the complaints about how it had gone downhill, I was interested to see how a place I hold so fondly in my memories was holding up. I would act both as a tourist (albeit from just a short drive away) and former friend.

The results were surprising.

Because – brace yourself disaffected residents – I thought it was absolutely teeming with vitality.

Yes, the shops that were still operating last time I’d visited – the Nasons and Debenhams of this world – had long since vacated. Their empty husks sat somewhat uncomfortably in the city centre. It was noticeable to me as I – like so many others – remember when they hummed with shoppers. Virgin visitors probably don’t bat an eyelid.

Does anyone, in this day and age, expect a trip into a town or city centre to be awash with department stores? No. They have had their day – for better or for worse – and we all need to stop judging our town centres on what they once showcased. Most of us – given their collapse – didn’t shop in them anyway in their final years.

But the tumbleweed blowing down the cobbled streets I’d been expecting simply was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, there were a whole host of enticing food and drink outlets competing for space with colourful independent stores, nestled within well-maintained veins which pumped people towards the main pedestrianised thoroughfare – the city’s traditional retail heart.

Yes, some of the bigger stores now look a little ‘tired’ but that, again, is the consequence of our changing shopping habits.

On – an, admittedly sunny, Sunday afternoon – the place was alive with a happy blend of people all enjoying the vast range of options open to them.

Tourists mingled with locals, seating outside cafes and restaurants lent a pleasant continental air to the proceedings and the place was clearly doing brisk business.

In short, Canterbury appeared – on the evidence of this visit at least – to have embraced all guidance as to what makes for a thriving high street in this era. Small, interesting shops and plenty of options when it comes to places to wine and dine. In other words, what you can’t get online.

Granted, things may get a little less relaxed at chucking out time on a Friday or Saturday night – but that has always been the way, surely? As for students? Personally, I think they bring a youthful vibrancy. They always have, if truth be told. It is too easy to overlook their positive influence.

No, the good folk of Canterbury should embrace the positives in their city – and I’m sure many do – as, for that matter, we all should, wherever we live.

Pride in our community, after all, has to start at its heart and that emanates out – luring in others. Just complaining only ever achieves the exact opposite.