Slack Jawed Babbling

2020 wrecked a lot of things. Lives, families, jobs, businesses, mental health, trust in an inept, crony-powered Government. And holidays. Which is how we found ourselves in Peacehaven, East Sussex rather than the Bay of Kotor, Montenegro. That isn’t a moan. Our family endured a Covid-ravaged year with only a few grazes. Minor abrasions in comparison to the havoc and misery visited upon thousands of others. In the circumstances we were thrilled to grab a holiday at all. Particularly so as I sat on the terrace of our rented bungalow, swigging bottled West Coast IPA, observing a few small craft plying a remarkably quiet English Channel. The dog at my feet was rolling in the gravel and panting after our substantial walk over the coastal South Downs. Mrs A was pouring a large splash of something red and French. Julie was joining me in a well-deserved beer. The hike had been an unalloyed joy, setting out by bus from our base in Peacehaven to the River Cuckmere and on towards Beachy Head...

Buying a ticket for the new(ish) fast-line out to the Kent coast wasn’t as straight forward as it once was. And not just because the ticket vendor couldn’t stop looking at the purple pimple nestled angrily on my chin. No, there were other less skin-deep factors to consider, such as travel with or without the high-speed option; in or out of peak hours; including or excluding a promotional offer; having carefully pre-planned or simply succumbing to reckless spontaneity. My purchase, negotiated without any further scenario exploration, afforded me the right to traverse those gilded HS1 tracks. I settled into my Javelin train. ‘Britain’s Fastest’ it said on the cab. This one was named in honour of bullet Paralympic sprinter, Jonny Peacock. Rushed into service prior to the 2012 London Olympics, the Javelins’ have split open commuting times to Kent for those that can afford them. Stratford, Ashford and Ebbsfleet comprise the ‘International’ stations on the fast line out the other Internat...

Across the Thames from Essex , east of London and north of Canterbury, this town is built around fishing, tourism and tarmacadum. It is famous for oysters, sunsets and real ale. Where on earth?   Actually, no prizes. The only mystery is why, with a CV like that, it took us so long to get to Whitstable. But eventually, we did. It proved to be an enormously diverting pleasure. The Neppy This was 2013 and we were meeting up again with Mrs A’s good friend Jan and partner Ian after an inexplicable 15 year gap. How does this stuff happen? The intervening period had seen them retire, become grandparents and relocate to this gem of a town in north Kent. Sat by the harbour, Mrs A and Jan had a decade and a half to catch up on, whilst Ian and I admired the refreshing and very obvious mix of real industry rubbing shoulders with assorted retail and leisure opportunities. Fish processing, coal and timber transport businesses were cheek-by-waterside jowl with restaurants, craft and gift s...