We do Like to be Beside the Seaside

 The next morning we were up early again, and back to the same cafe for breakfast, but this time to meet my dear old friend, Cathy, and her fella, Phil. I've known Cathy since I was 16 years old, and lived with her when I left home. We've always stayed in touch and her whole family are amazing. 

Once again, we had a huge plate of everything that goes into a full English breakfast, proper bacon, eggs, beans, tomato, mushrooms, sausage, black pudding and toast. And of course, this has to be accompanied by tea, although Elliott always had coffee. Only the Brits can really appreciate the good ole cuppa, and that's fine, it's our heritage. But I did have a coffee later when we left the cafe and went across the road to a pub to finish chatting over coffees and cokes. We had so much to say to each other we couldn't stay at the cafe, not when they were wanting the table for other customers, we'd definitely outstayed our welcome.

After a couple of hours, it was time for Elliott and I to leave. We met with Sally for a tearful farewell, and more hugs, and then hit the road, heading towards the coast. We were staying the night in an Airbnb that I'd booked overlooking the sea. What hadn't been in the description was a flight of 63 stairs that we had to drag our cases up. But it made a pleasant change from a hotel room and the exercise was needed. We arrived just before dusk, and the beach I'd wanted to show Elliott was only a 10 minute drive away, so as soon as we'd dumped our cases in the flat, we dashed out again, with our cameras.

Botany Bay is the most northern of the 7 bays in Broadstairs, Kent, and had somehow eluded my travels in all the years I'd lived there. It has white chalk cliffs, with sandy beaches, and at this time of the year, only a few locals were walking along the sands. Once famous for smuggling, including a bloody battle, the small caves where contraband was hidden can still be seen.

The sun was setting as we trudged down steps and then waded through loose sand to get onto the beach, and the tide was coming in, but we were grateful to be here so we could scope it out for the next morning, when we'd be arriving at dawn. It was getting chilly and the wind was brisk, but we enjoyed watching the cliffs become pale ghosts in the disappearing light. Afterwards, we popped into a pub by the car, where we ravenously devoured a delicious meal and a couple of pints of bitter before heading back to the flat for an early night.

The next morning, we dragged our cases back down the 63 stairs and drove back to Botany Bay, wasting no time, since we knew exactly where to park, and how to access the beach quickly. We were so lucky that the tide was going out, and the sun reached out to greet us with warm rays as we set up our cameras for a couple of hours of photos and exploring. There were only a couple of locals here this morning, so we were almost alone, and I didn't know what to do first, explore or take photos. This is an unusual beach, the sand scattered with round, white, chalk pebbles, smooth from being so easily eroded, and many with holes in them. A few went into my pockets. I was grateful for my snowboarding jacket, the wind was piercing, but we were too excited to take much heed.

In the distance can be seen a building up on the cliffs, which used to be Kingsgate Castle, built in 1650, and then converted to a hotel in 1913. Sir John Mills and Peggy Ashcroft, plus other celebrities, used to stay here, but it's now flats. What a great view they have! I was fascinated with the seaweed clinging to the chalk cliffs, the gorgeous shades of greens: lime, emerald and forest green. We walked along to the next bay, examining cliff faces and rock pools, and after a couple of hours, I had to call Elliott so we could move on. We had many places to see and my tummy was growling; we'd left that morning with no breakfast or even a hot hot drink. I'd been chatting with a Hungarian photographer on the beach who'd moved here 10 years ago, and he recommended a tea room, called Corby's, in Ramsgate, a few miles down the road.

We arrived at the tea room, starving, and were soon devouring another full English breakfast, which I followed with toast and marmalade, washed down with cups of tea. I noticed that the cakes in the shop window were knitted! Feeling full and nicely warmed up, we had a quick stroll along the street, where we found a novel armchair and sofa, cleverly built from bricks.

Further down the coastline is Dungeness, a headland which juts out from the east coast. The wind was howling when we got there, so we opted not to get out of the car. I used to come down here on my motorbike, with a friend late at night, in the rain, just for the fun of it. We'd stop and look up at the lighthouse, watch the fisherman, silhouettes on the beach in the night, feel the wind thrusting against our leather jackets, look at eachother, then hop back on our bikes and ride back to Maidstone. Can't say I'd do that now!

From the warmth of our car, Elliott and I looked at the power station, checked out the lighthouse, and the new additional lighthouse, the miniature railway line, the scrappy weeds that were the only plants growing in this hell forsaken environment, and the small shacks, some of which looked as though they were leaning into the wind in valiant efforts to stay upright. We took a couple of photos with the window rolled down a few inches, and then continued our journey. But, for me, it's a place I love to visit. As well as the memories it holds, there's a daunting and bleak beauty in the almost apocalyptic atmosphere of the place. It's so different from the surrounding countryside, that it has to be seen, and felt.

We then drove on to Rye, still regarded as a seaside town although it's 2 miles inland, where we wandered the famous Mermaid Street, one of the cobbled lanes here. This little town is also famous for smuggling, and raids from the French, including them burning the whole town in 1377. Rye was also made a Cinque Port in 1336, one of a group of ports on the south coast, which received certain privileges, such as tax exemption, in return for maintaining ships for defense. This was a scheme introduced by Edward the Confessor in the 11th century. We browsed the shops and then stopped in a cafe, where I had the best cherry and marzipan cake I'd ever tasted, washed down with a big pot of tea. Then it was time for the last leg of the day, driving along the coast to Hastings.

We arrived at Hastings as the last of the daylight dimmed. The wind had picked up and was now gales, laced with icy drops of rain. We parked and then walked quickly to the only fish and chip shop I knew would be decent and was open. Sadly, although edible, it wasn't the best fish and chips I'd had, and was an unfortunate introduction for Elliott, but there would be plenty of future opportunities. After yet more hot tea for me, we braved the now dark and stormy night to wander along a small part of old town Hastings on Halloween night. Surprisingly, the residents weren't letting the weather upset their plans, and were determined to party, many in costumes. I struck lucky, spotting and quickly grabbing a tenner blowing down the street. I looked about to see if anyone was missing it, and not noticing any disappointed faces, we went in the nearest pub for a couple of free pints. Walking back to the car, we spent a few minutes on the beach, sneaking a quick peak at the old fishing boats resting on the shingle. We'd be back at first light.