I vacate my awful B and B as soon as possible and make my way across the beach towards the Turner Art Gallery but I approach I have a sinking feeling and no, it’s not quicksand. The sinking feeling is regret at my decision to alter my itinerary because I discover that my chief reason for coming to Margate has been in vain since the Gallery is closed on Mondays! It’s at this point that I understand why in Old Testament stories they say ‘and he rent his clothes’ because that is what I felt like doing. I'm afraid that has to go down as a logistical blunder of the first order. Ho hum... the trouble with visiting a resort in the winter is that’s it is in essence closed during the week.
I was feeling somewhat depressed until I remembered the family motto Where There’s a Wills There’s a Way. So I decide to put it down to experience, enjoy Margate as I find it, and then go on down the coast to Whitstable – no idea what’s there I’ve not done any research so that’ll be kinda fun.
I was feeling somewhat depressed until I remembered the family motto Where There’s a Wills There’s a Way. So I decide to put it down to experience, enjoy Margate as I find it, and then go on down the coast to Whitstable – no idea what’s there I’ve not done any research so that’ll be kinda fun.
1002 Margate is a mix of the modern and the minging. The Turner Contemporary (outside at least L) is in stark angular concrete and glass facing out to sea but then there are run down lido’s and rusting railings in the Winter Gardens complex. Margate railway station is a lovely, unexpected gem: I couldn’t find a completion date on it but it screams Art Deco. I later find out that it opened in 1926, was designed by Edwin Maxwell Fry and is now Grade 2 listed. For me, it’s the best building in the town and one of the handsomest railway station buildings anywhere - but then I like that period.
Margate is, of course, dominated by its beach: large expanses of sand exposing rock pools at low tide. I know it’s not the holiday season but there is far less rubbish than on many Cornish beaches, perhaps ocean currents do not bring it here. There is the odd redshank prodding away at the mud and many, many gulls mooching around like groups of teenagers with skateboards, occasionally taking off to do some aerobatic Flips and Slides.
My walk takes me past an in-progress flood barrier which appears to be just a set of steps so I’m not sure how that is going to work (pipe up here brother Richard if you know). OK that’s Margate, the sight of the closed art gallery is nagging at me – off to Whitstable, stopping again to admire the station ticket hall – drool.
1104. Whitstable has got one of those High Streets you imagine hasn't changed much in years apart from the cars and the double yellow lines. Small, traditional shops like haberdashers, sweetshops with jars in the window and butchers who know how to butch.
A local in the cafe recommends Whitstable Castle so after a cup of tea I turn eastwards down the narrow Squeeze Gut Alley (which lives up to it’s name) to the coast path, passing piles of oyster shells being recycled (into what it doesn’t say). Past the romantically named Dead Man’s Corner - so called because anything or body unlucky enough to be drowned washed up here - and on to Whitstable Castle.
1301 Take a tour of the Castle which is in reality an 18th century manor house with castellations that has been added to over the years. It has an interesting history with eight previous owners, some more virtuous than others, and is now run by the Council. The view from its position at the top of a hill is great, only marred by the socking great gravel works on the quay.
1336 Have had to run for the train after spending slightly too long in a shop choosing a souvenir of Whitstable. Shows how unseasonal the weather is because I worked up quite a sweat.
1440 I've an hour to kill so spend it exploring the shops of Faversham: a small town wedged between the isle of Sheppey and the River Swale. It's nice. Compact, with some interesting shops and in a charity shop I purchase a board game for my collection that I’ve been after for £1. I would’ve like to have walked up the creek to the nature reserve, but time did not permit so I content myself instead by looking at a building on stone columns as it reminds me of a similar one in Wootton Bassett – sorry Royal Wootton Bassett - and a hexagonal Victorian pillar box. The weather is still gloriously sunny and not too cold considering it is mid-winter. As I muse on the journey home I think to myself that there is enough around here to justify a return visit...this time when the gallery is open!
My walk takes me past an in-progress flood barrier which appears to be just a set of steps so I’m not sure how that is going to work (pipe up here brother Richard if you know). OK that’s Margate, the sight of the closed art gallery is nagging at me – off to Whitstable, stopping again to admire the station ticket hall – drool.
1104. Whitstable has got one of those High Streets you imagine hasn't changed much in years apart from the cars and the double yellow lines. Small, traditional shops like haberdashers, sweetshops with jars in the window and butchers who know how to butch.
A local in the cafe recommends Whitstable Castle so after a cup of tea I turn eastwards down the narrow Squeeze Gut Alley (which lives up to it’s name) to the coast path, passing piles of oyster shells being recycled (into what it doesn’t say). Past the romantically named Dead Man’s Corner - so called because anything or body unlucky enough to be drowned washed up here - and on to Whitstable Castle.
1301 Take a tour of the Castle which is in reality an 18th century manor house with castellations that has been added to over the years. It has an interesting history with eight previous owners, some more virtuous than others, and is now run by the Council. The view from its position at the top of a hill is great, only marred by the socking great gravel works on the quay.
1336 Have had to run for the train after spending slightly too long in a shop choosing a souvenir of Whitstable. Shows how unseasonal the weather is because I worked up quite a sweat.
1440 I've an hour to kill so spend it exploring the shops of Faversham: a small town wedged between the isle of Sheppey and the River Swale. It's nice. Compact, with some interesting shops and in a charity shop I purchase a board game for my collection that I’ve been after for £1. I would’ve like to have walked up the creek to the nature reserve, but time did not permit so I content myself instead by looking at a building on stone columns as it reminds me of a similar one in Wootton Bassett – sorry Royal Wootton Bassett - and a hexagonal Victorian pillar box. The weather is still gloriously sunny and not too cold considering it is mid-winter. As I muse on the journey home I think to myself that there is enough around here to justify a return visit...this time when the gallery is open!
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