There's nothing like spending a morning walking along the coast as the fishermen bring in their latest catch and follow them as the fish is prepared and made ready for selling in the local market stands...
I love this part of the world. Mum came with me and sat in the car as I made my way down the steps onto the seafront. She investigated her latest toy - a new camera - and sat there counting the ships along the horizon in one of the busiest shipping corridors in the world - the Dover Strait.
It had been raining overnight and so the beach was pretty much deserted apart from a few kids and an elderly couple. I made my way to the harbour where the seafood stands are set up and bought half a pint of whelks, then waited to see if any of the fishermen would entertain a conversation. Not feeling all that confident I chose to hover around the harbour looking out to sea and hoping to overhear some conversation. The stand began to get a little busier with people coming to partake of the fresh catch, so I watched them as they made their selection. On display were many different fish - skate wings, skate nobs, herring, lemon sole, turbot, cod, coley, huss, bass, mackerel, and I think I even saw a squid or two. I felt drawn inside to investigate further and eventually I walked away with a pound of huss. Feeling very pleased with myself that I had ventured beyond the confines of my usual order of shrimp, I marched back along the seafront and up the cliff (no mean feat) toward the car to announce that I had bought dinner for today.
Mum was pleased with my selection, although not so sure about the whelks. She took one look at them and confessed that she'd never tried one before and wasn't too keen on starting this morning. Shellfish don't look all that appetising whatever they are and whelks are possibly the least aesthetically appealing but Mum suddenly had a bold streak and decided to try one. They are more substantial than your average mussel and considerably chewier, but meatier as well which is a nice surprise. I imagine they're a bit more solid because they had to be boiled a lot longer. We're always a bit wary of locally caught shellfish because of potential pollution, but I prefer not to think about it and throw caution to the wind. Mim the Adventurer returns once more...
It seems hard to imagine that in a fortnight I'll be on an entirely different continent once more and will be significantly further inland, so it's all the more reason to make the most of the coastal visits while I'm still within 400 miles of one... And make the most of it I will. I can't get enough of this part of the world. People seem to write off places like Folkestone and Dover but there really are some fantastically beautiful views and East Cliff boasts of this a lot. Even the sounds give character to this place. The sea was quite calm and in the background you can hear a slight hum of the harbour docks echoing across the water. There was little or no wind and so sound carried for a great distance. The recent rain seemed to have soothed the tide and within 20 minutes the clouds had broken up and revealed the coast of France. I returned to the car but rather than peering outward from within I retrieved my deck chair and sat alongside the car where it was parked (and next to the passenger's side with Mum and her open window) and absorbed the panorama, munching on whelks and talking of life and the universe, all the while the ships continued to drift across the horizon, small fishing boats set out from the harbour and life quietly hummed along this little part of the world.
This is my haven. This is my refuge.
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