Kent is delightful, surprising because of its proximity to London and that it contains the least offensive vowel option (some people do find Immanuel Kant offensive). Using our B&B in Ash as a base we toured the coast via Sandwich and up to the Isle of Thanet (no longer an island due to silting) and the Ramsgate, Margate and Broadstairs seaside resorts.
Ramsgate looked past its best and Broadstairs was where Dickens wrote Bleak House, unimaginitevly in Bleak House, but was certainly a jewel of a seaside resort. Margate, however, has the unmissable Shell Grotto, a magical underground shell walled tunnel with a friendly chatty owner. Along the coast is Reculver where the dambusters tested their bouncing bomb and where Reculver Church acts as a navigational point on the coastline.
Hence to Herne Bay to pick up a rib for a trip to the Maunsell sea forts 6 miles off the coast. These forts were used to fire upon enemy aircraft coming in and consist of 6 towers upon four legs interconnected with gangways. They look like AT-ATs from Star Wars and as they emerge from the mist with a lonely buoy ringing a bell it was haunting. The rib had picked up the BBC Coast team the other day from another set of forts, the ones that weren;t going ot be demolished by the army. We also visited the Kentish Flats wind farm out at sea and stuck into the sand bank (they weren’t turning either).
With such a long journey feeling like a pilgrimage it was time to visit Canterbury and pass along the shopping malls and heavily branded streets under the gate (to the left of the Starbucks cafe) and gaze in awe at the splendour of the building and listen to celestial voices echoing around.
We stopped off for a pint at the Inn in the pretty village of Chartham, where I ended up with the beer tap at the bottom of my glass. The toilets there also told a tale of sexual deeds in the public toilets that the police were looking into… CCTV in the toilets whatever next?
Our goal the next day was to reach Brighton (which we failed to do from the Cornwall trip) so we headed off to Deal for the walk along the pier and the gaze at the round castle and down to Dover for a week walk along hte white cliffs whistling the Vera Lynn song to find that my phone had now latched onto the French Vodaphone service and I was now being charged for roaming. The channel looked empty perhaps a consequence of the tunnels success (although the tunnel had burst into flames after our visit).
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Dover Castle was a great castle (and was battle ready in world war 2 for invasion). However, the main thing was the tunnels under the cliffs where the war operations were controlled and a great tour through them.
Samphire Hoe is built from the excavations form the tunnel and dedicated to the lives lost in its construction. Further along the coast is a Battle of Britain monument and a Chinook helicopter did a low pass when we were there – this was where it all happened.
I had planned to vivist Dungeness, not only for the shingle beach and lighthouse but to see Derek Jarman’s pad. This was the plan however I didnlt actually know which of hte ramshackle huts was Mr Jarmans. Kim came to the fore here as I had forced her to see a documentary years ago about his exile to Dungeness and she had remembered the name! Prospect Cottage was seen with its delightful sparse garden.
On the way to Brighton we passed the Lydd military range with its FISH training ground (Fighting in Someones House) with an eerie set of houses behind a large wall. A set of kite surfers impressively swooped around the shingle surf as the sun was sinking. Rye was lovely and we noted that we must return and spend a bit more time there. The battle of Hastings site was surprisingly interesting and we found that our audio tours were different, Kim laughing away at a comical track as I heard all about the doom and gloom of the battlefield.
The chalk Long Man was impressive and we also found the folly Sugar Loaf, made as a bet that Jack could see the spire of a church from his house – he couldnt so he made one to win! We walked along Beachy Head (famed for suicides) and saw the lighthouse that had been moved from the edge.
Finally we made Brighton at sundown with all the hotels advertising civil partnerships welcome. Our boutique hotel had various rooms (including Elvis and New York) but we had plumped for the Moroccan room (well it was still Ramadan). We walked along the pier and had noodles in the high wind sitting outside the disabled loo.
Brighton was a washout int he morning and we rescued a blown away large dumper from the pier – but the jobsworth still wouldn’t let us walk until much later when it opened (even after we had saved his dumper). The Brighton Pavilion was impressively bizarre and the shingle beach was a joy to wander on in the rain with the sound of surf. There was a tarot caravan on the pier with a list of Corporate Clients (I wonder if he told them anything about the credit crunch)
Returning North we stopped off at the Bressingham Steam Gardens and its Dads Army museum, the train journey was jolly around the garden but nothing prepared us for the higlight – the steam driven carousel. Kima nd I clambered on our horses and the carousel took off and it was ok, but hten the music got faster and jollier and hte horses were goig faster and it started to get quite exhilirating. ‘Gosh it is going rather fast’ said Kim and with increasing grins on our faces we thoroughly enjoyed the whole ride.
The combination of horizontal movement, fast vertical movement, breeze and jolly music seguing from jolly to very jolly from the central organ was just magical. Down a flint mine in a chalk area left us covered with white dust and knowing more about flint mining.
And so North, north, north and apart from me skewing across three lanes of the M1 to get to an exit the journey back was thankfully uneventful.
We have now covered most of the Scotland and England’s Coastline and what a joy it is too – so different in each part with fantastic geology and history on such a small and accessible island.
