The population can double in summer, they say, but Church Road's traditional terraces hardly hint at holiday homes and some development opportunities remain.
It's mostly about the caravans, you see, with a handful of holiday parks within walking distance and something a little way north but more on that in a minute.
The beaches are notoriously shingley in these parts and so it is with Kessingland's although there appears to be a sandier stretch if you're prepared to walk for another 10 minutes.
Boardwalks help out on this calf-killing terrain but you don't always have to head so far to get the old ankles wet.
The salt-loving shrubbery is a clue but this ain't no watercress, an Olde-English, alternative theory to the placename.
No, this area acts as an overspill for the occasional storm surge and Cyssi's, whoever he was's, land can find itself functioning as a whopping-great paddling pool.
The last really big surge was in 2013 but how is this known? Only a couple on the next table outside of the Sole Bay Inn a couple of years earlier who also agreed that the only thing Southwold is missing is a sit-down tandoori.
Don't be fooled by the relative flatness, the shingle-sapping stretches of this 50-mile long path will have you wishing you were on the West Highland Way, say.
If you're coming from Felixstowe, congratulations it's only another four more to the finish at Lowestoft. If you're coming from Lowestoft, it's only four miles in and you're going the wrong way, anyway.
The couple are presumed to live here or hereabouts and a double dose of ugly, yet necessary, concrete-defending just about saved them from evacuation.
Nor were those in the caravans evacuated, neither, where what passes for a cliff saved the day and takings at the Sailors Home pub remained intact, probably.
Inside, it's not all salty old sea dogs and shanties, there's a turn on this afternoon and his passable Neil Diamond is very nearly so good, so good, so good.
The Sailors Home is one of Kessingland's few fleshpots but you'll have to head back towards the A12 for the takeaways. The 'Beach' and the 'Street' were once separated by more of Cyssi's, whoever he was's, land until a '60s housing development paired them up.
Speaking of fleshpots and pairing up, there's a holiday park just north of here that advertises 'Adults Only' themed breaks.
Relax thrillseekers, it's a Pontin™s, actually, and a 'gentle game of bowls right through to a leisurely crawl in our swimming pool' suggests it's very unlikely to be that kind of weekend, eh, eh?