extremely long UK blogpost for the brave only

deal seafront, the royal hotel. i didn't stay there

coming back from my tiny holiday in the united kingdom i am now enjoying its aftermath, which is every inch as pleasant as its preamble. i learned a thing or two on how not to organize holidays. 

deal seafront boat yard detail

mental note : view the lodgings of choice beforehand. be sure your travel itinerary moves towards a crescendo, not away from it. sometimes you run out of luck, can't be helped. 

deal seafront, now there's my hotel in the middle

i'd decided to pay a visit to both the south east coast of kent and london. it was a bundle of pure joy that boarded the train into deal from st pancras. next i found the hotel on the seafront in a jiffy, just as i foresaw. 

canterbury park lane

funnily enough i decided to get straight back onto a train, a local into canterbury, for i had a greyish afternoon to spend. i walked about under a lead sky and thoroughly enjoyed revisiting unchanged spots.

deal high street charity shop

i climbed simmons hill on the city wall and got just a little drenched. on the railway bridge i talked to a couple of anti 'brexit-ers', who are keeping hopes up high all can still be turned back to how things were. 

evening image of my tiny room

as i slowly made my way back to the coast, and finally checked into my hotel room, my fear of being gallantly offered the broom stick cupboard (for travelling single) materialized. 

deal street messaging ☻

i faced a mirror hung up too high, the small single bed housed the sveltest springy matress i’d ever witnessed. the bed's headboard grazed the water closet wall in the adjacent communal bathroom. glory! 

deal evening stroll

a few sockets didn't work, so i prepared tea from the floor. i ran straight out into the mild evening. an invigorating stroll along the beach would do. 

deal high street charity shop

that first night's sleep was truly unpleasant. in the morning i discovered the pencil-thin matress lay upside down even, resulting in a less than comfortable touch. i whacked it over. 

hotel breakfast egg benedicte

in the breakfast room i consoled myself on a heartening egg benedicte and wandered off inland to sandwich. 

sandwich 

i felt it was heating up outside. the rope walk in the tiny historic town led me to its bustling centre where two bus loads of tourists had just been unleashed. i found myself a quiet spot that quickly dwindeled. i moved on. 

ramsgate seafront

i traveled to ramsgate. i have memories of the place, but i recognized not a thing nor house until i got as far as the seafront. it is a bit of a walk down to the front. 

ramsgate high street

thanet towns have a bad reputation. i should know, i lived in one in the eighties. not only felt ramsgate desolate, it was exactly that. lively enough in a sense, terrificly bleak at its fringes. 

broadstairs clock tower on w cliff promenade

i would indulge in that feeling the next day, making it into broadstairs, sunning a little before finding the courage to be on my walking way into margate along the seafront. 

up viking bay

i didn’t know how to get off the cliff so i had to plough through bourgeois wasteland and barren hay. once having cornered king’s bay, i finally had opportunity to stumble down unelegant steps onto hard beach sands.

palm beach

margate came into view, but in reality it was still a long way off. by now i was so tired i could have just stretched out flat. if it wasn’t for a handful of screaming kids i would have. 

walpole bay

i made it into turner contemporary the dishevelled way and devoured a piece of lemon cake while downing an organic lemonade at record speed. 

sandwich railway station, i haven't got one of margate

margate’s high street top end giving me the shivers just like it always does, i tumbled straight back down to the railway station and patiently awaited the arrival of my train back home. 

deal evening stroll alonf seafront

the evening was beautiful. i discovered deal's georgian old town by chance and fell in love with the evening sunlight kissing those pastel homefronts in sherbet hues, highlighting their disputed gentrified charm. 

deal shingle beach, morning image i think

i stayed long on the shingle beach afterwards, like the stones were telling me stories of old. i would have so liked to outstay my welcome, but...  

on the bus to dover

i would have to leave early the next morning to stick to my plans. that's how i discovered i should have visited london before the seaside, not afterwards. 

kenwood house hampstead heath

it wasn't the london mob nor the noise that bothered me, it was me. i bothered, and i bothered myself. i tried to make it work, and lo and behold, i made something out of it.

into the city

i had intentions. i wanted to spend time with edward bawden and enid marx, respectively in dulwich and in king's cross. both exhibitions pleased me no end. 

regent's canal

earlier on i’d {traditionally} gotten lost on the heath after visiting kenwood house. later i enjoyed strolling along regent’s canal. they were good walks after all, in varying company of strangers, dogs and bugs. 

king's cross housing developments

i didn’t manage much more besides revisiting favourite hang outs such as bookshops and regent street (don’t ask me why). king’s cross has come up in the world. it's amazing what a rejuvenated gas holder can look like. ....

bethnal green V&A, Rachel Whiteread

it's appalling though how this area is being done up for the rich and lonely. unless i would be shamelessly mistaking, but those gigantic billboards didn't leave a thing to the imagination.

this is before i left, eurostar terminal brussels

yeah. glad to come home and now to reminisce, treat my sore feet, and get all of the uk fodder seep in, through the cracks of my imagination and into illustration land. i hope. 

if you aren't done here, there's more to see here. thank you for staying with me. ☺