Sunday 31st August 2025

You take photographs, could you take some of us swimming?

So asked Ange.

Which is why we were up at six on a Sunday morning, and down on the beach at the harbour before seven, me giving them both instructions on where to swim from and to, all before the clouds rolled in from the west.

We at at the foot of the sea wall, the morning light showing warm against our faces, but with clouds in the west, the low sun made the contrast between the houses on the Prom and the incoming storm all the more stark.

First run, a float bag that Sean has, bright orange, distracted in every shot.

So with clouds gathering, he took it off, they went back out a hundred yards, turned and swam to me.

Anyway, this was the best shot out of 665 taken, with them near the shore and nearly in sync. And the light still being warm from sunrise.

The did another circuit, while I began to look at the shots, but already the clouds driven hard by a keen westerly was dropping the first spots of rain.

As it fell harder, I walked back up the the car, dried the camera off and waited for the others. After hugging and wishing each other well, as the schools go back on Monday, we leave in opposite directions, us back to Townwall Street and up Jubilee Way to home.

Back home then for breakfast and brews. The rain now was coming down hard, but only for a few minutes, and soon cleared.

The light sparkled now the dust has been washed out of it.

I sat in the garden a while with Scully, the garden quickly drying around us.

But more excitement was to come, as we were to meet another friend, Andy, in Ramsgate at two, and as I had to meet the keyholder of the church hall I will be using for the churchcrawling group at midday, we left the house at quarter to eleven, finding a place to park off The Strand in Walmer.

The service had yet to end, so thin voices sang along with the last hymn, the Victorian organ in St Saviours sounding bombastic in contrast to the voices.

The service ended, so I saw maybe 30 people in attendance, in the twin towns with so many churches, I didn't think was bad.

I met the keyholder, she made it all so simple, so we shook hands and would meet on the 10th.

I come out and try to find Jools. I see her sitting at a bench. So I go to a shop to buy ice creams, then cross The Strand to sit with her to eat the ices quick, whilst looking at the beach huts and stony beach with the Channel beyond, while above the dramatic cloudscape kept on moving.

As the main road through Sholden was closed, and had been for weeks, we drove back to Whitfield then out back along the Sandwich road before crossing the Great Stour onto Thanet and into Ramsgate, parking down near the beach, under the shadows of the huge revetments holding the chalk cliffs back.

Just along is where a branch line to Ramsgate Beach station emerged from a steep tunnel, with barely enough room for a station and turntable. That closed in the 1920s, and the tunnel made into a tourist attraction with a small train running part way up.

Then in 1940, the tunnels were repurposed into air raid shelters, new tunnels with bunks being dug, so much of the townspeople could sleep safe as the bombs dropped.

Andy was on a tour of the tunnels, and would meet us at two, so we had 45 minutes, and suddenly we were hungry, so we went to a café.

We took a table inside, as I saw clouds and rain sweeping across Pegwell Bay, glad we did as soon those at tables outside were running in to take shelter as the heavens opened once again.

The food was fine, but expensive.

We walk back to meet Andy, they had walked miles by all accounts. So we ambled back down the prom, thinking of going into the UK's largest 'Spoons, but I spy an Belgian bar opposite in one corner of the old London Restaurant building.

Two bottles of Delirium tremens had our heads spinning and feeling much better.

With more rain on the way, we take Andy to Ramsgate station, so he could get back to London. Jools drove because of Belgian beer.

Then to home, via Sandwich and the Eastry by-pass, getting back in plenty of time for the "big" game on "Super" Sunday. Liverpool v Arsenal, which should have been a cracker, but wasn't, but Liverpool won the dour game with a world class free kick in the last ten minutes.

I make buttermilk chicken for supper, and with corn and creamed spinach. That was good.

And what is this: Sunday evening football? Aston Villa lost 3-0 to Palace, and I have no idea what this all means. Other than its now international break, so not much footy until Thursday or Friday.