Sunday 10th December 2023

Viking Bay is better known as Broadstairs, just to be clear.

As to whether the town has broad or narrow stairs, is as yet, unclear.

I shall now search as to why Broadstairs is so called.

Hmm, Wiki doesn't really say, other than to describe, you've guessed it, a set of steps from the harbour to the top of the cliffs.

As is usual, and has been the case for what seems like months now, we had to decide what to do with the few hours of dry weather in the morning before yet more rain was due to sweep in from the west later.

A trip to Broadstairs was decided up, though a diversion to Alkham to record the flowing of the Drellingore was pencilled in first, right after we had coffee.

I knew the winterbourne was flowing, I had been shots of it the day before online, so we drove along the valley road to park at the gate to the meadow leading down to the bourne's course, took a few shots and went on to find somewhere to turn round.

Back into Dover, up Whitfield Hill and along the A2 before turning off to take the road to Sandwich.

Past Sandwich, round Ramsgate and through the hellmouth that is Westward Cross

Westward Cross is a large retail are in the centre of Thanet, with all supermarkets having huge stores, M&S and other once high street department stores are there, two family pubs, a medical centre, a casino. As I say, its a hellsite, and usually jammed for miles as the sheep go to shop.

But not jammed at half eight in the morning!

We sail through without incident, then through residential areas down into Broadstairs which is now just part of an urban sprawl with Ramsgate and Dumpton and into Westwood Cross.

Two things must ye know about Broadstairs. One, the roads through the town are narrow and twisty, and not fun. And two, Charles Dickens lived and stayed in several houses and hotels in the town.

It is fair to say they have a bit of a thing for Dickens there.

We found a place to park on a sidestreet, and walked down the high street, past several pubs, hotels and micropubs, before turning down the narrow street leading to the small harbour.

Above us the the faux castellated building that is Bleak House, yes really, and Dickens did live there.

Too.

Under the narrow arch leading to the beach and harbour, past the bucket and space shops, ice cream parlour and candy rock emporium, where we found it just about high tide and the beach being a narrow strip around the bay.

Every dog owner in the town and Thanet had, apparently, decided to bring their pooches down to the bay to exercise them on the beach, possibly mate and/or fight.

On the harbour arm, a small flock of turnstones decided to follow me round, maybe they saw me as King Turnstone and wanted to worship me, I don't know. But as I turned away, the plovers follower, squawking and arguing as they fell in step.

We took some shots and climbed up the steps to Bleak House, then back along the main road to the first café for breakfast. Because despite being no hungry when we left home, we were now officially hungry.

So we went in the café and both had a breakfast bun filled with a sausage patty, bacon and hash brown.

It was good.

From there we walked to the cliffs, and out along to the bandstand and grand ornamental shelter.

I took more shots, and then we agreed we should go home.

Back in the car and out of the town, the back road way took us through Ramsgate and a journey time a quarter than the one following the road signs.

Out onto the bypass, past the new Thanet Parkway station still with no new houses around it, so few passengers, and thence back to Sandwich, Dover and home.

As we entered Dover, the rain began to fall, and as all cricketers know, rain stops play.

Back home for a brew, and the rest of the day a laze spent writing, reading and watching yet more football on the tellybox.

The day slide by, rain fell heavily outside, and come dinner time, we feasted on seasonal party food and drank a little more beer. Or cider.

And that was your day. Our day. At the seaside.