We thought we would drive around the south east coast of Kent, even though the grey clouds were gathering in the sky. Weather prediction? Rain of course, but then it may not get as far as the south east coast. Always hopeful.
The A2/M2 was free of heavy traffic. Good start to the trip. We turned off the highway and headed for Whitstable, always interesting to drive through slowly. No stopping though, destination was Margate, for fish and chips from a very good shop by the waterfront. Well the fish and chips were excellent the last time we were there, about eight years ago.
Our tummies were rumbling by the time we arrived in Herne Bay, which was deserted. 'Why?' we wondered. We even managed to get a carpark opposite the fish and chip shop. Moira loved the Victorian buildings lining the foreshore. 'So English!' she exclaimed. This was the obvious place to stop for lunch, a lovely seaside town.
But why were there no people? All due to the weather, apparently. The people in the fish and chip shop looked glum. We sympathised, collected our boxes of fish and chips, and off we walked to a shelter. We could have eaten in the restaurant, but we were intent on eating our fish and chips by the sea side. Luckily we decided not to sit on the sand, or on a park bench.
No sooner had we opened our boxes, when the clouds also opened, and down came the rain. Even the street lights came on.
The verdict on the fish and chips? Definitely a bit soggy, and not from the rain either, but at least they were freshly cooked in good oil. Eating soggy fish and chips in the rain. Very English we thought.
My new walking shoes, getting a thorough soaking from the rain. They were not waterproof shoes, it would appear.
Walter feeling very pleased with his new waterproof walking shoes. Pity about the trousers though.
What wet and dismal weather. Obviously all the people who were not there, knew it was going to rain heavily.
After lunch we walked quickly to the cafe, one umbrella and one raincoat between the three of us, where we drank very welcome cups of coffee, inside the building of course.
No one sitting outside. I wonder why.
It was great to get back into the car, and turn the heater on, in order to dry our legs and feet. Then off towards Margate, in torrential rain.
We did not stop in Margate, once the ultimate in holiday destinations before cheap airfares took away the patrons to warmer climates. Margate was now a run down and depressing town.. I hope the revamped fun park brings a bit of life into the town. The new art gallery looked impressive. Too wet to stop and have a look at it.
Then suddenly the rain stopped, just as we arrived at the start of the beaches, seven bays altogether, Botany Bay, Kingsgate Bay, Joss Bay, Stone Bay, Viking Bay, Louisa Bay, Dumpton Gap.
Unfortunately, now that ten days have lapsed, I cannot remember the names of the beaches in two of the photographs below.
But the coastline was certainly beautiful, with white cliffs and sandy beaches.
A remarkable building at the end of the beach, with very strong ramparts to stop the ocean from reclaiming the land and the building above.
I think this was Joss Bay, very popular for school trips.
Now this was definitely the town of Broadstairs, with Viking Bay lapping its shores. Apparently Hengist and Horsa landed here in 449AD. The bay was named following the 1500th anniversary of the their landing.
There were a few people on the beach, and in the water. After all it was summertime.
As the sun was now struggling to shine through the clouds, and there appeared to be a carnival in progress along the prominade, we decided to find a carpark and spend an hour having a look at the festivities.
A glimpse through the wrought iron gates, at a beautiful building, the Grand Mansions, originally The Grand Hotel, built in 1882.
It was Broadstairs Folk Week, with plenty of Morris dancers around. It was amazing to learn how many different forms of Morris dancing there were, depending on which part of England the dancers came from, plus a few historial influences. The dances where the men blackened their faces and wore beards, originated from country areas that banned their workers from taking part in Morris dancing. The dancers then tried to hide their identity. Costumes appear to be varied, depending again on the area in England, I guess.
I must explain Morris dancing, for the benefit of people who do not live in England, and who are a bit mystified by people, men usually, prancing around with bells on their legs. We thought it was all a bit strange when we first saw Morris dancing.
I have used my hopefully reliable Wikipedia source, who state that 'Morris dance is a form of English folk dance usually accompanied by music. It is based on rhythmic stepping and the execution of choreographed figures by a group of dancers, usually wearing bell pads on their shins. Implements such as sticks, swords and handkerchiefs may also be wielded by the dancers'. Morris dancing has been recorded in writing as early as 1448.
I loved watching these two men dance, as they gave each other encouragement, and insults. I am still not sure of the women's role in the dances, other than as musicians or supporters.
The weather by now was really warm, and many people were enjoying sitting outside drinking coffee or beer, while listening to a folk band.
Walter posing outside Dickens House Museum, once the house of Mary Pearson Strong, upon whom Charles Dickens based the character of Betsy Trotwood in David Copperfield.
Finally, our last look at a group of Morris Dancers, who took centre stage in the Victoria Gardens. They were particularly good.
We then set off towards home, about an hours drive away, in gloriously sunny weather. The memory of eating fish and chips in the rain, now a distant memory.
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