Oysters in Whitstable

A bit misleading as we did not have oysters. Something about putting things which are still live down one's throat. And this is supposed to be sexy. From what I see it's looks like drinking what comes out of a cold sufferers hankie.

Best not ask.

Anyway, oysteres are not that posh, around Whitstable they just grown in the shallows and on the mud banks off the town. No cooking required, just open and eat. Or slurp.More about oysters later.......Once again the day dawned bright and clear, and as there was little else we could do around the house, we decided to go out for part of the day and do something else. As you may have realised we headed north to the fishing town of Whitsable, where we knew we could have a wander around, take some good pictures, and look round the nich nack shops for things for the new house.

Jools said she knew an 'interesting' way to Whitsable, and so map in lap and sun shades pulled down we headed off into the bright day. It is hard to describe the east Kent countryside. Rolling hills and downs, ploughed fields, many woods and old farmhouses at frequent intervals. Roads generally don't go straight and so twist and turn and dips and rises, each mile showing something different.Something different is a wood without trees. Something that culd probably only happen in Britain. Seems like a bright idea was the celebrate the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, and the trees used to build thewarships, lets plant a wood with all those trees in it. There's a wonderful wooden sculpture near the car park, very informative visitrs information, spendid views down to Whitstable and across to the Swale estuary. But, here's the rub, there's no trees.

Not one.

There are plans for some. Many, in fact. The artists impressions look indeed impressive, but for now there is rolling hills, and broad woodland walks all laid out through what are for the moment, fields of grass.I am sure that Victory Wood will be wonderful, I cannot think it is for the moment, mis-named.



Whitstable is a wonderful small fishing port, and to buck the trend they still catch fish there. Heck, there's even small fishing boats in the harbour, nets are spread around the harbour left out to dry, and you can even buy fresh fish. Fish that you need to skin and make its own sauce for, and comes without bag to boild said fish in.There are old wooden buildings around the harbour; and in the buildings are craft shops; all in all it is very wonderful. There's even a French guy selling smelly cheese and fresh Gallic bread to temp the unwary with its wonderful smells and flavours.



The town itself is a mix of fishmermen's cottages and traditional shops and craft and antique places. And then there are places to eat. A wide mix of seafood places, or cafes named after local herbs selling traditional fry-ups made with local ingrediants. There's a second hand record shop to go round and flick through the racks; a wonderful wine shop with vitage champagnes and aged malts to open the wallet.Shame then that chains Iceland and Tescos are to try to open places here. As much as I like the thought of these chains, being able to go from butcher to wet fish shop to fruit and veg shop all in a 5 minute walk for the convienience of doing it in Tescos and damed those shopowners who go out of buisness.



Anyway, Whitstable is a stunning place for a walk, some shopping or a bite to eat; and we went into the Whitstable Oyster Fishery Company for a late breakfast. It's a wonderful place for a resturant; in an old boat shed, all most curse are fresh seafood. Jools had a full English, or fry-up complete with free range sausages, but I think they may have been pigs at some stage; scrambled eggs; smoked bacon; fresh mushrooms and black pudding. I had Polish scrambled eggs with spring onions and smoked salmon. Needless to say the food was wonderful, the view over the bay, stunning. We had more fresh coffee to feel even better about ourselves.



We drove back slowly along the main road back to Dover; the traffic for the port and Channel Tunnel whizzed past us as Jools snoozed.

Once back home we had Creme Brulee coffee to go with the fluffy French cakes that we had bought just before leaving Whitstable; and it was indeed, very good.

Steelers: half three in the morning, still tired, but happy. Nuff said.