A walk by the river in Sandwich

          Where once, it was more of a wide and bustling harbour than today, the river winding along the edge of Sandwich, in Kent, still holds a good few moorings. The boats are only small of course, although there are a couple of dozen or more. Today, small private, leisure craft, bobbing gently with the tide. These are moored both sides of the river, near what would once have been warehouses. There are still odd boat yards, and things of a nautical flavour along there. Many of the old uses of buildings, now converted to flats, or quaint cafes. These sit by the side of the narrow pathway, making any walk along there interesting. The assortment of different styles of houses, some with doors straight onto the footpath, some behind private walls. At the end, near to the old gated entrance to town is a small,pretty yard, festooned with tables and chairs for outdoor eating, next to it is the first of dozens of small pubs in the town. To visit those would take you more than a day I would think. It would be interesting for both historical reasons and culinary ones. Each having its own unique style of both. In the UK, especially down south here, in Kent, these are places you can safely visit. Whether for alcohol, food, hot drinks, or just to read the newspapers, and to rest your feet. Some might be slightly rowdier than others, but all are perfectly  safe, even for a lady on her own.

                The first of many small pubs, next to the old town gate, beside the river

          The river, running down to the sea being silted up, making it much narrower. Being straight from the sea, although some couple of miles now, instead of on the mouth, as in the distant past. Fast flowing, as it is still tidal of course, as it drops, and rises regularly, twice a day. With mud  banks, rushes and a drop of quite a few feet from high, to low tide. It remains a pretty river, whether it is sparkling with sunlight, or covered by the often roiling mist, travelling up river. Near the old town gate, sits a narrow single track bridge, the only entrance for vehicles on this side of the town. To my mind, by far the prettier entrance too. Along to the left of this, are moorings for the few pleasure craft. Used for taking the public to see the seals out at sea during the summer months. As well as an old WW11 gun boat. Converted, it seems to living accommodation today.

                                     A misty day along the river, near the bridge.

           Near the view above, to the left as you cross the bridge, is where the leisure boats are moored. Behind which, a major car park, and small toilets. Both necessary, but not particularly making the best of the river right there, I always think. However, the beautiful buildings and houses, across the road make up for it somewhat. Keep walking right, to find the very nice gardens open to the public. A place you can also take tea in pleasant surroundings. Unfortunately a lot of this stretch has suffered through this years floods, including the gardens. This in particular, will need some time to recover, which we hope it can do. Salt water, and plants not going well together.

          Here too, begins the park. A lovely and reasonable sized stretch of trees, pathways, and grass besides the river. This eventually leading to the golf club, and beach. Further down river, towards the coast. During the summer months, this park hosts fun runs, and on its edge, small markets of all sorts. From French fare, to cars, and stalls selling a wide variety of goods. Vegetables, bric a brac, toys, clothing, even furniture or small antiques. At these times, the place is crowded with people. This continues throughout the town too, as this is a major tourist destination. Sandwich is steeped in centuries of history, as the buildings show. Well worth a visit should you find yourself here.

          In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed our small glimpse of life by the river.

Lunchtime in RAMSGATE. Kent. Updated.

         Today, for a change I found myself in Ramsgate, near the harbour. It's not a a bad place to be, especially if the wind and rain have let up, which they have. No, it is not warm by any stretch of the imagination, but at least there are flashes of blue sky, amongst the rippled, heavy cloud cover. The poor weather has not completely given up though. The cloud cover is overlaid with more than a few dark, rain filled clouds. Apart from that, it's still coat weather, and scarf, with no sign of the sun. 

                          Ramsgate yacht harbour, when Summers here.

           It's not as if you are able to pretend its summer out there, or even Spring. Even here, safely, (you would have thought) behind the glass of Miles Cafe on the waterfront it's bitterly cold. So cold, I have to wrap my coat, like a blanket around my near freezing legs. Leaving my feet to freeze, bereft of covering. That it is so cold, reenforces what I have noticed this winter in other cafes, and restaurants of the area. Proprietors are not turning on their heating. They seem driven to take the chance of customers body heat, warming the place up. Of course, it doesn't work, and I for one, will not be a returned customer to any of these cold places. I can only assume, times are hard, profits small. They are having to cut down on expenses somewhere. Hence, switch of the heat, pretend its a cold store!

              I gave up coming down here to the harbour, when the high winds were at their worst. Of the three, or four little cafes, all comfortable looking, none were comfortable enough. One was redecorating, and finally closed for the duration. The other two, or is it three, with main doors facing the harbour, and the direction of the wind,all had ill fitting doors. Not one of them was able to stand up the force of wind, blowing open constantly. Mmmm, mr proprietor, very cold, draughty and uncomfortable. Now what's wrong with that picture? Today then, is the first visit in some time. So, it's a shame, now the doors are fixed, or the wind less, it's as cold as a fridge. The food was good though, generous for the lunchtime special. Salmon en Croute, haven't seen that in a menu in many years. Only six pounds too, can't complain at that.

  

                The Maritime Museum, on the side of the harbour. Always worth a visit.     

         I know I am not a person to enjoy the cold, I, like many more have had enough of the cold. We all dream of the sun, and feeling the sun on ours backs. Today, huddled in my coat, getting colder by the minute,  I ate my lunch. I can tell you now, even good food won't drag me back there until I see a lot of sun. Until I can breathe again, without the breath misting before my face. Once in the street again, I had to buy stamps for a late birthday card, I am so bad at dates lately. Then I climbed in the car, with great relief, I might add. Headed straight for home, and a lie down, being cold is tiring. Guess what I saw as I exited the car again? The sun! Only a quick flash, but anything right now is welcome, and a promise of better to come.

           Although I can tell you now, it's not enough, and I don't care. That was a waste of a potentially nice lunch. Since that place changed hands, they just can't seem to get it right. Every time I try going again, visiting my formally favourite place, it fails! Today, unfortunately was no different. It took me hours to get warm again after reaching home.

           Of course, as you can tell, I am not to be mollified today. The harbour has such promise, if only the. Council don't mess it up. The whole of the harbour is struggling to become a bit more upmarket. Smart apartments, shops, and complex is planned for the corner of the beach down there, even though it has all been sadly delayed due to the world recession. Once built, it cannot fail but improve the feel of the place. There is a giant complex almost opposite the proposed development, next door to the Maritime museum. If they do it right, it could generate a lot of visitors. However I hear now that a large pub chain has bought (the lease, I presume) which I think, in fact the general oppinion is that there are already enough pubs in that area. Of course the wonderful outside space on the first level needs to be an eating, and viewing area. Whether it sells alcohol or not, is almost immaterial. As long as it a nice place for the public to eat, and relax. Surely though, the main ground floor, which used to be a casino, has space to be many things. An ice ring, a bowling alley, even cinemas perhaps all of those. At least it should be something the public can take part in, rather than just drinking. It is definitely a waste to be empty, and neglected as it is.

                         The large empty building near the Harbour. The old casino.

            Post script. Some weeks later now, and the sun is slowly arriving, the temperature has risen over ten degrees, or more most days. Everything looks so much better in the good weather. My mood has lifted, as does how, and where you can sit in comfort, for a coffee break. Unfortunately my views on where is best is unchanged. Except I now here here is a new chocolate shop in the arches along the other side of the harbour. It is said that it sells home made chocolates, and hot chocolate. Mmm, can't wait to get down there to try it out. Maybe tomorrow, who knows you may beat me to it. As it is the town is already looking better to me. Do come, to see Ramsgate for yourself. It's really worth exploring, there are many places I did not review. Perhaps I will do another look around soon.

 These are the arches said to hold the chocolate shop.

                      The harbour, arches.

              Don't forget to explore the arches above the road too. There are several cafe, and restaurants along there. A Thia, a breakfast place, an Italian, and a lovely friendly snack place, first in the line, which only opened in the sun. Ahh, a man after my own heart.

             This is England folks, it needs to be warm. There needs to be heating. It's only february, (n.b.now March, and looking up) for goodness sake. Give me strength......

               Give me warmth...

                      The harbour, from the street, see how great it can be.

In London Town

       I wish I was there, I have reached the point where I am ready to be back there. Even to settle there again. Yes, I would love to be in London now, with a place of my own. It's a great place to live after all. Of course, it is even more wonderful if you have lots of dosh (money). To fully indulge, and oh what a wonderful place to do it. London is like an Aladiins cave of delights, things to do, places to go. I can imagine only too well how much enjoyment I could have. To be able to enjoy the West End shops, Oxford Street, Knightbridge, Bond Street, so many temptations for a girl. Then there are the cinemas, the theatres, Liecestershire Square, Drury Lane, Covent Garden, the Haymarket, with the latest shows, and films. To be able to go to smart hotels, and restaurants without worrying about clothes, or money. Imagine, frequenting The Ritz, The Savoy, as well  as  a dozen others classic places. Or, to go to the ballet when you fancy, I love the ballet!  To lose yourself in the dream Iike movements of dance, and story, in it's colour, and magic. Or, to some of the music venues, imagine seeing the big stars from front row seats. Yet, all of those things cost a lot of money, the sort of money I have never had.  Forget the car, or don't worry about the driving or, expensive parking, just take taxis, or have a driver. It's the stuff of dreams isn't it. That's O.K. Though, it doesn't mean I am unhappy for not having those things immediately. As I've said, its good to dream large, to live life to the full where fantasy has full reign.

  

         The whole city is so vibrant, historic, and alive. An ancient, beautiful city, built on a wide, and curving river, The Thames. The river that gave it life, and still imparts it's magic. Of course, London is still magic without money. There are so many other places. The museums, The National History Museum, is grand, vast, filled with wonder. These are all free, as are the art galleries. the National Portrait gallery,  my favourite. The Tate, The Tate Modern, and many more are yours to wander, taking your time. Except you can't get to see the specials exhibitions without paying, but you can see a vast amount. Then there are the monuments, Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace, Whitehall,  Horse Guards Parade, Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, Greenwich Park, The National Maritime Museum, Green Park, Hyde Park, to name but a few. My Father, and his ancestors  from way back were all Londoners. Were all part of the history, and change over the centuries. It's in my blood, it speaks to me on a visceral level. I love London, every narrow street, or grand building, every tree, and red bus.

                                            The Houses of Parliament 

           That though, is the fabric of the city. It's ancient heart, so easy to fall in love with. To be able to wander through Fleet Street, in the early hours of the morning, when the town is yours alone, or during the bustle of the day when it's alive with assorted little coffee, and sandwich bars. To walk past the little dark, and quaint pub where Dr Johnson  met, and talked with his contemporaries. Where Samual Pepys wrote of the happening of the day. Down, through the cobbled streets where the Great fire of London began, to sit on the wide bank of steps of St Paul's Cathedral. Heading downhill, towards the river, and the new, and narrow foot bridge strung across from The Tate Modern, or the many traffic bridges spanning the rive. Blackfriars, Tower Bridge, near the Tower of London. Or meander around Covent Garden, watching the colourful street performers. Walk in almost any direction from there, and there are interesting streets to explore. If you're lucky, discovering the unique Neil's Yard, and the. British Museum. All you need, are two good feet, and eyes to see. Apart from buying yourself a cup of tea, and a sit down, no money required. London waits for you to explore.

                                                Blackfrairs Bridge, over The Thames

         I spent over twenty, very interesting  years there, when I taught. Way back when, before south of the river began to be redeveloped. At a time when London Bridge was still run down, sooty, and very knocked about. Most of my teaching was done in London schools. After that, wanting something different, I began my travelling years. First to Devon, then much further afield to Australia. Which was mind blowing, and magical in quite a different way. I loved it, and spent a great deal of the next three years there, travelling from one side, to the other.

          Even so, nothing can beat London when it's in your heart. It's sparkles in the heat of the summer sun, or glitters in the mist and rain. Whatever is happening with the weather, London can change its mood to suit. There are so many parts to London, the historic heart, or the life in, and around the river. The city with it annual Lords mayor Parade, and financial institutions. Then the Queens birthday parade, or the changing of the Guard, always something of the sort going on. Or the new, and innovative with the more modern buildings, like the aptly named Gherkin, or Canary wharf, or any of the amazing riverside developments if housing, or retail. Still, after mentioning so many aspects of London, I have barely ruffled it's amazing amenities, and sites.

            I for one, have merely what my appetite for London. I cannot wait to dip into its culture, life,an d history again. What about you folks...?

Of mist, and rain no more

      In. Broadstairs again today, briefly. Where yesterday, all was heavy mist, and mystery. Spooky, sad, ghost stories personified weather. Guess what I saw today though?  I saw the sun, and not one drop of rain. I could see the entire sea before me, with excellent definition between the water, and the sky. OK, the sea was still rather grey, still a little angry looking for a while. Except today, there were no large breakers, no foaming waves, and high winds. Therefore, no harassed little pilot boat looking for trouble on the water, thank goodness. Wth definitely no rain in sight. 

       I must admit, it was quite a surprise. Today, I was tired, I do have tired days, unfortunately. So, I decided to relax, no blogging, no Internet. Simply sit, drink coffee, and to read the paper. I really enjoyed the rest. What it is they say, 'a change is as good as a rest', how true! It was a nice change, instead of being under pressure to be on line, composing something, my blogs, nearly everyday day. Some days, to compose two, for my two blog sites.

        Oh don't get me wrong, I love writing, I get the urge to write all the time. I don't know about writers block, I get the writers runs! Sorry, a joke in poor taste perhaps. Regardless, this is where, only you, dear readers, can tell me if it's rubbish, or English. Who remembers that old joke. I speak two languages....English...and Rubbish! It could be true in my case, but I hope not.

         Back to today's trip out. No shopping to do, as I did it two days ago. My goodness how the grocery bills have risen! No, that's a blog for another day. Today, it was only a daily paper to buy, and a bottle of milk. Tired, and using it to my advantage, I delegated even that small task. As I said, deciding to relax, to enjoy the ambience of one of my favourite places. 

          A pleasant hour later, as I sat engrossed in the news, and the sight of people coming, and going. Being able to actually see a fair number of people coming in today. Being aware of the bustle of changing tables, and food, or drinks being delivered, listening to laughter, and conversations around me. Something I do often, as a writer, I am interested in how people interact. As for listening to conversations, it's impossible not too. People talk so loudly. As well as have very private conversations on their phones, for all to hear. Sometimes I blush to hear their secrets, and their thoughts. Sometimes, I wish they would just keep down the volume, because I really don't want so many intrusions on my thoughts. Not much chance of that I fear.

            Eventually, I looked up again to the day outside the window. To my further surprise, not only was the sun actually shining,  but I saw blue sky. A great deal of blue sky. A wonderful French blue, with only minimal small, fluffy clouds here, and there. Little soft feather pillows of clouds, baby clouds, they were. It is so long since is saw a sky like that, I was entranced. It actually gave me hope for an end coming to this wet, and angry weather. After all, who wants to be angry all the time, or to have angry happening around you. Not me! Whether it is weather, or people.Not you either, I'm sure.

             We all like to have a nice, and milder day don't we. A dry day, a windless day, a clear day. Ahhh, the pleasure of it. Two pleasures in one day. A nice relaxing hour, or two, with a bright, and happy day outside.

            If the bad weather comes back again tomorrow, as it is supposed to do, at least I have seen some blue! I have seen some happy.

            Wishing you all happy days, and blue skies where you are.

Of mist, and rain

         Take an old waterfront village, once a thriving fishing village, with Victorian, street lamps strung along its esplanade. A small black, and White House, with pretty windows, and cast iron balcony. Where once lived an old lady, who hated donkeys straying across her lawn. Mix with sleeting rain, and a heavy mist settling fast, and you have the quaint town of Broadstairs, in Kent, today. 

          Betsey Trotwood, a fictional character, as immortalised in Charles Dickens story of  David Copperfield was dreamt of here. The character however, was based on a real lady, from the black, and white house, who Mr Dickens saw chasing donkeys away from her property. Where, from his hotel window next door, in The Albion Hotel, he noted,an d wrote about many vignettes of life at that time. The house is now the Dickens museum, giving a glimpse of life during that era.

                              The Dickens museum, Betsey Trotwoods' house.

          Today, everything looks mysterious, bleak and rain lashed, with mist rolling in off the sea. Filling the narrow streets, and small park with a smudgy, strangely luminous light. Through which, only outlines of buildings are seen. Whilst the horizon, where the sea meets the sky sits high above the level of the esplanade railings. Its pale grey water, laced with countless, white foamed breakers. Through which, battles a small red craft, the pilot boat, meant for leading boats to safety. Fierce waves breaking over its roof with crashing regularity, and it dips, and rises, making for a harbour up the coast. The high waves, to the left of it, slapping against the small pier, sited across the deserted beach, and tiny harbour. Nothing else is visible in the sea, or sky at all, not even seagulls.

          As I watch, from the comfort of The Albion, the mist thickens, hiding the horizon completely. The sky, and sea merging into one, the boat, shrouded and lost to view. Ahhh, the winter in England has it's attractions. Hiding safe, and warm inside here, is one of them. Wth it's rich wealth of history, and architecture, it is a constantly fascinating place to explore, or only watch.

         Here I stand, in the dining room, where, no doubt DIckens once stood. I walk the streets where many artists, and writers were drawn to stay. Several coming with Dickens, Willkie Collins, and Hans Christian Anderson to name but two. John Buchan, who wrote The Thirty Nine Steps wrote it here, based, Iosely, on steps leading down to beach, from the north foreland. There were many more, as it always attracted artists, and writers. George Elliot held an assignation here, Walter Richard Sickart, artist, painted here, Samual Taylor Coleridge, and even  D.H. Lawrence came, and stayed, to enjoy its ambience.

        Of the more mundane, Sir Edmund Vestey, and brother William, founded Vestey bros Union cold storage, and eventually the Blue Star Shipping. Line. Whilst Edward Heath, b.1916. Prime Mininster 1970-74 was born here. He, who took us into the Common Market. The list of names of many more influential, and talented men goes on.

                     Walter Sickert, dark alleys

            If you want to explore the history, as well as present day of any of these small towns along the coast, each one will fill many pages of necessary information. Your only problem will be, what do you write about, and what stays out.

           Today it's all about atmosphere, and inspiration. How it's energy, and location attracts the artist, perhaps the investor. Whether it be misty, and mysterious, blowing a gale, or bathed in sunshine, and visitors, it is compelling. Ever fascinating, with many facets to its character, many moods, with so far still to go. This is not the end of the story of Broadstairs, by any means.

          Warm, safe, sheltered, I write. Ensconced in the very rooms so many famous, and talented writers have used before. Who knows, maybe it's possible to tap into their energy, into their talent. At the least, I share the location, and the view which inspired them. How lucky, am I.

           I shall remain, open to the mystery, open to the mist, the magic that is here already.......waiting to be shared, maybe for me.

          

A snippet of a rainy Ramsgate

          Scenes today, as I drove through Ramsgate, in Kent. Going through the seafront centre, by the harbour, the roads wet, and shiny with rain. The wind, and rain still lashing across the sloping roads, the windscreen, and the poor pedestrians. The streets were almost bare of people, although some hardy few struggle through the weather. The four, or five left on the street, no doubt doing their necessary jobs, those that had to be done.  Their bundled figures, almost blowing along the harbour front, bent, hiding as best they could from the weather. There were no umbrellas, it being far too windy for those. Each must manage as best they can, exposed to the weather.

      

 Single decker buses, the red, blue and orange 'Loop' route, stand waiting, parked both sides of the road, depending on which way they are headed. Thereby leaving only a narrowed centre of the road for two way traffic passing through. As it is windy, the scattering of other drivers, squeezing through the gap as best they may, all drove too fast. The wind making crazy people of them all. A fact I often attested too, when on playground duty as a teacher. On windy days, the smaller children in particular, zoomed, like mad things, screeching, around the playground. It seems the urge kicks in again, as drivers. The rain fell even more heavily as I pulled up to the zebra crossing just before the opposite bus stops. The light turns red, on stop, as I approached. The couple of people waiting, were already on the move as  I drew up in my car. Not waiting for the light to turn fully. These people, like the drivers, in too much of a hurry to be elsewhere, to think of safety. As I sit, dry and warm inside the car, the engine running, waiting for the flashing of the beacon to start, signalling I can go, I watch the boats, beside the road, in the harbour.

            The harbour, as always, is full to the brim. Today's angry weather, causing even those sheltered boats, to bob, and clang  as the wind buffeted their orderly lines. Only masts, and lines on show, all sails furled in harbour, as always. Yet they all seemed alive, as if ready, waiting for the 'off ' in some strange race. One where they could only go around in rectangles, of their mooring pattern. Beyond them, over the low harbour wall, the choppy dark grey sea seethed, ready I am sure, to beat back any who made it out into the sea. The leaden, darker grey sky, hung menacingly over all.

            The beacon flashes, bringing me back to alertness behind the wheel. The traffic queue of three cars behind me, ready. The two buses still parked, waiting, stolidly waiting for the correct leaving time. Engines idling, offering any potential passenger a haven of dry for a short period. I was glad it did not include me. Weather such as this, is far better faced within your own vehicle. The thought making me appreciate the blast of warm air, blowing into the car from the front heating vents.

            Taking a last glance at the road ahead, between the buses, I drive off, up the hill ahead of me. Heading towards a cosy, cliff top pub, and my lunch. Once there, parked, braving the force of the wind, almost too strong to fight. Crossing the narrow road, hair, and coat flying in the wind. Until I find the doorway I seek. Inside, soon sitting at my favourite table, by the window, I have coffee, a newspaper to read, safe and cosy whilst the wind outside beat the sea of the bay into angry peaks. What did I care? All it was to me then, was a pretty picture...one I would enjoy for a while.

            You must make the best of every situation, mustn't you.

            lucky me. Don't you think?

Mmm make mine a cuppa

,       Sometimes I think the world could be improved, or even mended by imbibing a cuppa. It's the universal cure for all ills. Certainly, in my life, it's the cure for almost everything. When I wake up, I need a cuppa. It helps me leave the land of nod, and enter the world of man. Not always the best idea, and not always a simple thing to do. Then, if I'm tired, a cuppa brings me round, helps me get through the next hour or so. If I'm feeling poorly, then the best thing is always a nice hot cup of tea, with a splash of whiskey added. You would not believe how it sets me up!

                 Everyone likes a cuppa in bed in the morning...even the Queen.

      Coffee.......sorry for swearing,  is drunk late morning, when I finally get out of the house to buy a proper cup. I it's only time I say 'no' to tea. Having no fancy equipment to make proper coffee the right way myself at home, out of the house is best. Go to a busy cafe, where there is plenty of life. It's a treat, just to have the one cup. Normally it's an Americano I choose, for the uninitiated, it's a black coffee. I prefer mine with a small jug of hot milk, I do like my hot drinks, scalding hot. Besides, I like the routine, and I like being out, watching the world go by, drinking my treat...coffee.

          At lunch it's water,  I am not a drinker really, so no great need for wine. Wine, to me is a sociable thing to drink. Well, actually alcohol, of any kind, is a sociable drink. I think if you are a solitary drinker, you are in trouble. Although thousands might disagree with me. I like something special going on to enable me to enjoy the ritual of sharing the bottle. A ritual even better with nice glasses, friends, and laughter. There has to be the right ambience to make the most of alcohol. The only other time it has to be alcohol, is at times of sickness, like last night. I couldn't sleep, I became gradually more, and more unwell, and uncomfortable. At such times, I must have a little brandy, or even spiced rum in hot water, with a drizzle of honey.....ahhh. That does the trick. For bad colds, or flu, it's a hot toddy. That with the addition of lemon juice, sip slowly, relax, and hope to sleep. If not, at least you have had an enjoyable ten minutes or so. If you're lucky it takes the edge off the malady too, whatever it may be. Perhaps that was always the way, poorly or not. Any excuse to gather together for a drink.

                      Any excuse for a get together, has always been the way.

         After lunch, its another cuppa. Sometimes, not immediately, but way before five..ish. If it's a special treat, we may go out for high tea. Another ritual, well, I'm beginning to see a pattern here...rituals, I realise I have more than a few. Nothing wrong with that, they hold society together, don't they? After that, its a cuppa several more times during the usually, fairly short evening. Just whenever I fancy one, or I'm offered a cup. I don't mind who makes it, it's always a treat. At bedtime, I like to take one to bed with me. When, like this, I sit with my iPad, drinking tea, and composing prose. Bliss.

                       A special high tea. You couldn't eat one of these every week.

         I certainly have my little rituals, my likes, and dislikes of course. I can't enjoy tea, (white, no sugar) unless it's piping hot. It has to be scalding, as if it's been 'boiled on sticks' as they used to say. I seldom drink the entire thing, as before I can reach the bottom of the cup, it gets too cold. I can't abide lukewarm tea. Once the scalding element has gone, it's 'had it' as far I am concerned. The thing is, with tea, unlike coffee, you cannot possibly add hot milk. It's just not the done thing at all.

            I love pretty, bone china cups, but for goodness sakes, two mouthfuls and it's gone.

         I have cups, or rather mugs I especially like. Tall, and thin, fine china, as that shape, and material holds the heat for longer than anything else. I can't abide thick china, or cups that are too small. Purely because it's almost impossible to drink a good portion before you are near the bottom of the cup, and it's cold. Which brings me to how it's brewed. Once you had to have a teapot, and I like the ritual, I like rituals. But today, everyone I know drinks out of mugs, and makes the tea in the mug too, with good old tea bags- Brooke Bond for me. Nothing wrong with brewing it like that. It doesn't get to be orange, and tannin saturated in the mug. I don't like dishwater, but I do like it to have colour, not too dark, not too much milk. There is an optimum colour, I find. 

                             Mugs, it's true, but a far trendier Chinese tea kettle.

           Tea is welcome almost any time of the day. If you look back through British history, in any emergency, or. crisis...make a cup of tea. Of course we know it did not originate here. As far as I know, we don't grow tea in the UK. it's India, Ceylon, even China, but we adopted it so long ago. It's ours now...English! No, tea is always a success, as long as I don't taste the milk.....uggggg ripe milk, over ripe milk. Nasty. It takes me back to schooldays, and the force feeding of sun warmed milk, to helpless infants. Meeee.....usually. Now that was gross! No wonder I still don't like milk.

                                     Warm, school milk....ugggg

         However, having said all that, if you, or someone else ever offers me a cuppa, I would be so pleased, that I would accept it served in anything clean, and almost any colour, or thickness. Ahhhh, it's the panacea that gets me through the day.

           What can I say, I'm English. We are perculier like that.

           Do you fancy a cuppa?

           Yes please!

Memories of the Sunday lunch tradition

          We must all have memories of Sunday lunch mustn't we? Having said that, I really don't have any such memories as a child. How strange, I thought I had many, but find them ...missing. I don't think my Mother ever did Sunday lunch when I was a child. Rather, I remember Sunday high tea at my grandmothers. This was always substantial, with all the extended family around the table, then playing cards for fun, after. Perhaps that is why I don't remember any lunchtimes at home. Two such meals might have been too much in one day. Although I remember large meals being served at all times. They were big eaters, working on the land they needed to be, but there again, at my Grandmothers. All I remember were other meals, breakfast porridge, something in the pantry. Nothing to help me here, I fear.

          As I write this, I am starting to see my memories of Sunday lunch, came much later. At fourteen, Sunday lunch, complete with Yorkshire puddings, was the first full meal, I cooked on my own. With long, and full instructions from my Mother before she went to work, backed up by my fathers admonitions. I remember I was quite able to time it all ok, feelingi as if I had achieved something. My Father ate it that first time, and got me to iron his suit whilst it cooked, so all went well really. My mother worked at the local rest home, doing the weekend shift. By then, the Sunday tea at my Grandmothers were no more. It's strange how I did not notice the going of them. Also, of course my Father demanded a cooked lunch whether Mother was there or not. Those were the days when men did not touch anything in the kitchen of course. No matter how chaotic, or busy the family. It was unthinkable he should be left with no meal, and his daughter there. All I am trying to say, was how entrenched, and how traditional was the lunchtime meal. In England I mean, probably in the UK. I know in America, and the antipodes too.

                                A universal, rather relaxed lunch at the farm.

       The roast meat, chicken, beef, pork, even lamb, the roast, and boiled vegetables, the batter, or Yorkshire pudding, gravy...of course. Or Jus....as they call it now, in homage to the French? Aren't we all experts today on how to cook the perfect roast, and everything else. The right way to cook this, the only way to cook that, al dente vegetable, fluffy potatoes, and on, and on ad nauseum. Perhaps not the best phrase to use when talking of food. I do often have the feeling all is not lost as far as the skills of cooking go.

        The use of the words lunch, luncheon or dinner go back many years. They are everchanging, to fit with how the tradition around them changes. Lunch used to be a snack, now it's advised to be the biggest meal of the day. On account of health, and fitness, dieting really I suppose. Breakfast was once not taken at all, not it's  advised not to be missed, as it kick starts the metabolism. Or maybe I read too many diet books.

       We tend to eat out more often today. Preferring quick snack, or meals in cafe, or restaurants. Personally, it's my favourite. I love to eat out, and take any excuse to do so. Even fast food joints are popular, although not with me. It's obvious by the full eating places that many prefer to eat out, and if you can afford to, why not. I think anything that brings the family together to eat is good. The bad trend is more, and more for phones, and iPads at the table. Ban them I say, bring back conversation. Share some time together in your busy lives. 

       As a child, I was not listened to that much at table. But it was an unbreakable rule we all sat down together. I know I learnt an awful lot from listening what conversations went around the dinner table. Not least I learnt what sort of people my family was, and what I should be too. Invaluable with today's children I would have thought. As so many things have changed.

        I know times have changed, but let's not throw baby out with the bath water. Keep the good stuff, find the time to cement the family unit. Who knows what good changes might come of it.

       Eventually, make some good new habits folks, it has to better than the isolation at work in too many families. I know I'm going to keep working on it. Even though the family is spread about.

        Enjoy your family mealtimes.....

Pegwell Bay ; on the English Channel. Kent. England

          Pegwell, is a small, very English place, hardly a village, more a hamlet. Located on the Estuary of the River Stour, between Ramsgate, and Sandwich, beside The English Channel. If it wasn't for the pretty hotel, and the narrow street of old houses, with two busy pubs you could pass it without knowing. Of course there are several more streets of houses going back towards the main roads, and the roundabout to London. Even a few, very smart newly built, large houses, on the main road through the village, overlooking the road across from the fields. Amazingly, right there, mere steps from the hotel are public pathways, and cycle tracks leading off for miles. These tracks are very popular, and I must say,  it's a nice experience to walk right out in the countryside. Something you cannot do in many places today. Much of it through open fields, and past the old coastguard cottages, and the bay. 

                         The coastline, showing the location of Pegwell Bay.

                To look at Pegwell briefly, it appears barely more than a rather nice hotel, a couple of pubs clinging to the cliff top, overlooking a large, beautiful sweep of bay. It's a bay where the tide comes up almost to the foundations of the pubs. When the tide is out, the sand stretches for, perhaps twelve hundred feet, flat, and apparently, now, with pockets of quicksand, tricky! Therefore, not as user friendly, as it once was. That bay is yet another victim of the dreadful nineteen sixties, and seventies. The time when building, and major changes was done with no regard to preserving, or safeguarding anything. That stretch was cleared, for construction of the new hovercraft station. Now, cleared again, but leaving stretches of quicksand, and ruined shrimp beds.

           The beautiful Pegwell Bay a hundred years ago, before used as a hovercraft station                 

             During that period, nature was bulldozed, history was obliterated, so many wonderful buildings left abandoned, then flattened. Much was totally destroyed, as far as I can tell, there was no protection or future planning on anything much. Plans were passed on the say so, of who knows whom? I, as a lover of history, still feel a real sadness at the loss of so much, all over the country, not only Kent. Previous to this desecration, the bay was famous for its quality shrimps, with a small shrimp factory above on the cliff top. The pub there, the same one as today, was famous for its shrimp paste. So famous, that once, it is said, the Queen herself, came to sample it. I love little tales like that.

            That all changed, a I said,  when a station was built to accommodate the new, at the time, innovative Hovercraft station. A vast concrete platform was erected on the sand of the bay, with buildings, car parks, and hover parks. Not so many years later, it was removed again. Buildings, access, broken down, and the rubble strewn along the curve of the bay. Much of the concrete platform was left, it is assumed, still breaking down, under the sand today. That, and other debris including household waste was dumped there. It was mainly that invasion of the hovercraft base, on the sands of the bay, which created the quicksand, and ruined the shrimp beds completely. The shrimp have never recovered, the edge of the bay, more so. Over the course of the last thirty/fifty plus years, nature has covered the rubble, and it is now a haven for wild plants, and bird life. A lucky accident, I hasten to add rather than a planned for result. So much for the sixties, and the seventies, and their haphazard building laws. I believe that more important architecture, and natural habitat was ruined across this country during those decades, than ever before, or since. Hey ho, for the planners, or lack of them.

            

                                         The hovercraft station, as it was              

  Today, wildlife flocks in to almost the same spot, drawn by the rough undergrowth, and sheltered bay.

              When you look at it, it's amazing how nature, given half a chance, will triumph. The bay is still beautiful, as is the nature reserve just next door, on the edge of the bay, and coastline. The little locale of Pegwell, is actually regarded as part of Ramsgate, so say the maps. I rather think, it is not the opinion of the locals though, who always refer to it as Pegwell, as a village in its own right.

             It is in the direction of the larger nature reserve, and park, at the end of the bay, that the Vikings landed originally. Marked now with a copy Viking ship, from where the hotel of Pegwell is clearly seen on the clifftop. The Viking boat next to the much flatter area, a little green park, and a big swathe of sand dunes/wet lands. It is easy to see why it was chosen as an easy landing spot, being the far right of the bay. This landing was with the famous Hengist and Horsa AD 449. This little Pegwell bay is famous for two more important landing too. The first Christian to Britian landed here in AD597. St Augustine, which is why the name is still scattered prolifically around the area.

            There was an early convent recorded there for many years The Assumption convent which lasted until at least 1890. Now sadly gone, replaced by a more modern housing estate. All that is left is a pointed arch, marooned on the pavement near the estate. Another seventies building plan,  I don't know for sure, but it smacks of the same disregard for historical buildings.

                       The Assumption Convent. ramsgate. Close to the Pegwell pubs

            The lovely old monastery, of St Augustine, still exists, slightly closer to town. It is next to the house of the famous architect Augustus Welby Pugin, who built most of the best buildings in the area. He built this house for himself just up from Pegwell, sitting, as they do, on Westcliffe hill of Ramsgate. As you may know by now, if you read other local writings of mine, the whole area sits on chalk caves. One of the Pugin men ended his life in quite a reclusive fashion, actually living in the cave under the house, rather than above ground, in it. It is possible to stay in the house, to sample a little of life as it was during the Victorian period. As it now operates as a small hotel, or probably more a little holiday rental. It, and the old abbey, sitting next to each other, are still in use, with its accommodation for its Benidictine brothers /monks over the road. The third important original landing of the Romans invading Britian followed..... Proving yet again, the easy, flat landing on the site, once you are away from this cliff edge.

           It is important to remember that all of the South/East part of the UK was once under water. Although some 80 million years ago. Large Ammonites, similar to the type of Nautilus, now found in today's Indian Ocean, can be discovered here. These fossils, many quite large, are regularly found in the cliffs. Ammonites are large, flat spiral shell shapes, which would have had squid like bodies emerging from end of the shell. This bay, would have always attracted settlers, or fishermen of some kind. Either netting fish left by the tide, trapping birds, finding shellfish, or as they did later, collect sea weed to enrich the soil. There is no written record that I could find, but historical finds are constantly breaking to the surface. Who knows what may turn up yet.

           Being such a nice flat, safe bay, partly surrounded by white chalk cliffs, made it the ideal smugglers site. As you may know from my previous blogs, this whole coastline was alive with smugglers a few hundred years ago. Here, during the 17 & 18 century a network of caves within the chalk cliff were both dug especially, and naturally occurring ones used, for storing, and transferring all manner of illegal goods.  Alcohol, and tobacco mostly, I suspect. As when the government hurts the ordinary man too hard with taxes, they will discover a way to avoid it. Smuggling, and selling to the local gentry, was the favourite. There is nothing new there, and happened around the entire coastline. 

            During those years, a man said to be the local shopkeeper would swim out to boats, and drag smuggled goods, floating, into the shore. One, at least drowned during these excursions. There the gangs would transfer them from the beach, through tunnels, to the pubs on the cliftop above. The tunnels were cleverly made, so that there were many false leads, and dead ends, should the authorities search them. It is said the symbol of a fish was used, to point the right way, it's tail, the direction through the labyrinth. The local blacksmith, Big Jim, was leader of one particularly successful gang, The Pegwell gang, from the village. There are now quite a few streets of houses leading away from the town of Ramsgate, to Pegwell. Then, in those days, there would have been a couple of dozen at most. For many years goods found their way, often to the local gentry, or even clergymen. Smuggled goods, after being bought through the subterranean caves under the pub, were then taken by other tunnels across the road, and stored in the houses there. As often happened, the smuggling was an open secret, which benefited the whole village in various ways.

                     There was a whole network of tunnels through the cliff. 

           Many silted up today, but still there. One is called 'The Witches Kitchen'. Another is as big as a ballroom, and being situated under the pub was used as an impromptu ballroom. The Belle View is one of the pubs on the cliff. The other, rather sadly, I think, the present 'Sir Stanley Grey', was once named ' The Moonlighters'. How romantic, and evocative is that. Re -name it, I say, keep the old names going.

           The bay once had a Pier too, the broken piles still visible at low tide, below the pubs. It was some 300 ft long, short for a Pier. The idea was for boats to unload there, but it was never used. Until it was wrecked in December 1884 when a boat ran through the shore end of it, destroying the structure.

           Perhaps the most outstanding feature of todays' Pegwell bay, except for the bay itself, is the hotel. This was a pre Victorian hotel, which, for many years, became a convalescent home, for workers from London. Beginning in 1874 with fifteen patients, so successful, within three years it was enlarged. Eventually holding 72 by 1914. By then it had a pool, wonderful gardens. It became The Staplhurst Home, eventually closing 1969 because of flood damage. The Hotel, with clock tower, below.

        The bay, today, with the Sir Stanley Grey with green base, this side of a brick wall, square.

              When, what was the converlescent home was sold, it was converted back into a hotel. At that time, much of the rose gardens, and the rest of the cared for grounds, were made into car parking facilities. The rest running back to seed, and wild. Today, there are no signs of any of the beauty, and tranquilly once so renowned around the old converlescent home. Allthough there is some talk, very recently, of re establishing the gardens. The hotel however, Is busy, as are the two public houses across the narrow road. I know things can't stand still, hardly ever when finances are involved, but it's nice to know, someone thinks of restoring the best of the old.

               For such a small place, there is so much history of the small bay, and of the hotel, that I could continued or several more pages. Do visit the pubs, both offer good food, one, the Belle Vue already has an extensive outdoor eating space, although it opening hours for food is sadly restricted. The other, the Sir Stanley Grey, affiliated to the hotel (also very comfortable) serves food from 12 mid day to 9 at night, continuously. In addition, it is warm, and cosy in cold weather such as we are having at present. There are further plans for building a much enlarged outdoor eating deck. In addition to the ones on the lower levels where they hold weddings, and receptions. I look forward to enjoying the sun out there, come the summer.

                I enjoy visiting Pegwell now,  for a meal, and walking across the many footpaths across the fields. Located behind the Coastguard cottages towards the Viking ship, and the nature reserve. These paths are safe, and  pleasant in the Summer, and many are dry enough to continue using in the winter. Used by both walkers, and cyclists to great effect, come, and discover them for yourself.

               Enjoy Pegwell Bay....