Tuesday 13th July 2010

At least I slept well on Saturday night, even with the humid conditions, and we decided to head out for the day. As we were going to visit a friend in Whitstable, we thought we would spend most of the day there; it’s an interesting place, and should have been cooler on the coast than inland.



It is a good drive to the north coast, and although it is mostly the way I go to work, on a quiet Sunday morning it is pleasant enough. All along the side of the road, wild flowers, once a riot of colour are now turning to seed, but as they die off wild peas bloom now.



Whitstable is still a working port, but with its mix of small independent shops, bars and general bohemian atmosphere is booming again as an upmarket place to visit. I failed to remember this, and as we arrived, so had most of Kent . We parked at a school, with the cost all going to charity, and walk quicker than the queue of traffic into the heart of the town and then onto the beach.



Our thought had been to have breakfast at the Oyster House, but they had changed their opening times and now no longer did breakfasts and only opened at midday; hordes of people were waiting outside for midday to come round so they could claim a table. A pub opposite offering breakfasts over the road did not seem too welcoming when we waited at the bar to order, and so we walked out and after a walk along the High Street ended up in Costa Coffee, where we had paninis and a bath-sized cup of coffee. We sat under the air conditioning unit, and we cool for the only time that day.

The area around the beach and yacht club was jammed with people, as day trippers and boaty type people vied for space. It was good just to sit down and watch them mix, or not, and grab snatches of conversation. We went to the Old Neptune pub, which is right on the beach, and had a cold beer and cider, before making our way back to the car and then onto our friend who lives somewhere on the backstreets with views up the hills beyond and the windmill that overlooks the town.

And in the early evening, we head back home for dinner and then to sit down to watch the World Cup Final on TV. And what a disappointment that turned out to be, all fouls and play acting by players good enough and old enough to know better. It felt such a let-down after two good teams had made it to the final, but only Spain turned up to play football; Holland resorting to basic tactics of kicking anything in a blue shirt that moved. At least it is over for another year, another four years, rather. But on the radio on Monday morning, they were already trailing the new football season, which is due to start in less than 3 weeks now. It’ll be like it was never away.