The day Margate became 'MarGAYte.'

Saturday (29th September) saw Margate become MarGAYte.
Not by typographical error, but by Thanet Pride having its Gay Parade, all the way from up at the Lido, right along the seafront & along to the station.

It's not been a easy ride for the principal organiser this year, a major supporter pulling out with resultant funding short fall, hence the intended 'Thanet Pride' was pulled, though happily continuing with the 'Parade,' in which hundreds participated.

Unintentional promotion of Margate Pride, came in the form of some irritating little snot rag (I do hope she / he comes to terms with his / her sexuality some time) posting hate mail through letterboxes.

For every 1 person who dropped out from coming along on Saturday because of this hate campaign, another 5 seemed to have come along in support of it.

As for the police who attended; they seemed to be there as much for the fun as any traffic control or troubles. They were brilliant. Thank you.



Parade snaking its way towards the sea front.
 

On the green opposite the station, where Peter Tatchell spoke.
Pleased to see the LibDems had come along to support the parade.

I can't say I always agree with political campaigner; Peter Tatchell, but his speech at the end of the parade was commendable. Condensed into five words; 'Don't let hatred oppress you.'
Too right, Peter!

I could have done with these balloons to take the weight of my legs.
We must have walked miles...

The Herne Bay Air Show, and more...

I dare some would question writing about the Herne Bay air show which happened almost a fortnight ago, as old hat. Well, it may be, but it's worth mentioning because of its magnitude and numbers attending; 70K!
Here are just a few pictures of the event; some are mine, but I used a load from Julie Blackmans catalogue. She's good, very very good, and worth looking at.

 

 

 

Luckily a bribe stopped the storm trooper from annihilating me.

The trouble is we have both been busy>
Chris, along with work, recently organised an LGBT disco organised at the Labour club, which was a great success.
"When's then next one?" seemed to be the mantra as he left the building.
Quite a compliment in itself.

LGBT by the way stands for 'lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender.'
Some people think there ought to be an 'i' on the end to encompass 'inter-sex,' covering those people half way between one thing and another.
Quite frankly I think 'LGBT' is already long enough, but there's always some one trying to push the envelope further..

We've had a couple of dinner do's, (which always seem to occupy the day before to prepare,) along with having two lovely guests stay for a couple of days.
Luckily we had found a bed for one of them to use, only the day before they came!

I'd better explain 'finding' the bed, before anyone thinks they'll never want to step foot in this house again, let alone ever sleep here. Even we have standards!

It was in fact the same base we'd seen on the way back from the club a couple of nights previously, after the disco, commenting to ourselves, 'that won't be there long.'

Walking the dog a few days later, I was surprised to see it still there; a virtually new, tubular metal frame that slotted together, then just screwed into place.

Despite looking clean it still underwent a thorough scrub down and spray with antiseptic spray, then once dry, assembled to make sure it was ok.
Bingo!

With a small mattress we already had, we now have a second guest bed. (though of anyone has a three foot single mattress that needs a home????)

Some what more expensive; we have recently had to contend with builders swathing the house in scaffolding to repair bits of roof and repoint the chimneys; the scaffolding alone cost £400!

Photogenic stuff; scaffolding.
And bloody expensive!

Some thing I did manage to save another small fortune on, has been a bit more painting of the pebbledash above the windows at the front of the house,


Dogs have featured heavily too; August's school holidays, so we look after doggies whose owners don't like kennels.

This is our favourite baby.
In love with him?
You might say, 'just a little.'

To Kiss or not to Kiss...

When your abroad, you know the problem; to kiss or not to kiss?

Then there's the problem of how many kisses? and which side first?

France complicates things; around Brest one is sufficient, while in Calais and Dunkerque, two is generally the norm, though four is not too uncommon.
In Montpellier & Marseille, the limit is strictly three.

As for Paris, just watch the natives for guidance; no non Parisian quite knows what they get up to.

Italy is easier with kisses tending to be the preserve of friends.
But there is one thing I can say with certainty; don't go 'Moi Moi' as you kiss.


Tonguing is some thing entirely different, and usually the preserve of intimate partners; and Molly!

Molly and I have  known each other for about three years. She has always been an over exuberant character, never anything but beautifully turned out, with the blackest flowing hair, enhanced by woven red ribbons that makes many women jealous.


Yesterday, while saying 'hello,' she French kissed me!

The understatement of the month would be to say I was 'gob smacked.' Literally!

Her mother was aghast at the impertinence. All for about three seconds before her uncomfortable silence was rent asunder by falling into hysterical laughter.

Still 'gob smacked,' I'm afraid I didn't quite see the funny side of things for another couple of seconds after which we laughed until we were breathless.

Molly joined in, of course, barking ecstatically...

What had happened was, I bent down to stroke Molly, just as she jumped up, and her friendly lick turned into an unfortunate French kiss.

One piece of advice should the same happen to anyone reading this; rinse you mouth 'asap' with some very salty water.


The only other time I'd ever encountered an amorous animal was on new years day, when Chris and I were being shown round the Bed and Breakfast's owners smallholding,

'Did you know cows horns are warm?' she asked; adding 'feel them, they're lovely and she like people stroking them.'

It's true, cows horns are warm, and this particular highland cow seemed to enjoy me stroking her horns.

Embarrassingly she seemed to enjoy my attention to the degree that she gave me an appreciative lick that whipped out my top false teeth, which fell with a plop into her cow pen.

Happily both myself and my teeth survived, but that holiday is another story in itself..........


Oh yes; to save people wondering; Molly is a welsh sheep dog. Truly loving and she really is as beautiful as I tried to portray her just now.


By Folks, See you again soon.

Weekends just don't get any better

We have both decided to reduce our calorie intake.

Suffice to say my waist band demands it, some thing echoed by Chris, who has asking me to do smaller portions for ages.

The cause of the diet, (having cheese cake for breakfast this morning was a necessity) is a result of the weekend just gone.

Friday evening started, with a large class of Pimms thrust into our hands by Maureen's niece, Deborah, at 18.47 precisely.

The celebration was Maureen's eightysumthingish... birthday.

Canapés and conversation flowed, both deliciously lubricated in part by what seemed an endless stream of Pimms, with canapés and titbits of salmon or asparagus appearing ceaselessly, all benefited from 'just a drop more Pimms dear?'
And so the evening and weekend flowed; celebration, companionship, epic consumption, and of course busses.

Saturday was a friends (Nigel) birthday celebrations at the Westgate-on-Sea Pavilion.
It wasn't his age that was the shock; it's that in almost forty years of living as an adult it Kent, I never knew Westgate had a Pavilion!

One fly in our planning, was 'Trainline,' trains to Westgate it professed to be hourly, with two an hour returning.
I did think strange but then thought; oh yes, at busy times they have more trains running.
jotted the times down, and off we went.

Arriving as planned, Nigel's do was a reall family and friends affair; great fun with live music, a good spread, a bar, best of all though, the chance to sit with a very dear friend.
We felt quite privileged to have been invited. Thank you.

How's that for a Birthday Cake!

With the evening quietening, we sauntered to the station, missing the 18.05 by moments, but never mind, we can get the 18.22.

Oh no we bloody couldn't! it went through the station at what seemed like a hundred miles an hour.
Chris was peeved.
I was Peeved at Chris being peeved, but I knew what I had read, and on getting home, instantly checked I hadn't miss-read Trainline's advice.

Nope, there it was, Westgate to Whitstable 18.05 and 18.22. Vindicated! (ish)

What was not plain was that while you could get to Whitstable on this spurious 18.22, the 18.22 was in fact the 18.22 to Margate where you would change to the fast train to Whitstable.

No doubt a frequent train user might have understood this, but for me, Trainline name was mud.

Never mind, it was a nice day and we're both glad we went.


Sunday was the crowning glory.

By 08.30am Chris was running for the door to grab a game of tennis with Michael in Herne Bay, and ninety minutes later, me, Mark C' & Peter H' were standing at the bus stop like a gaggle of little kids  going to the cinema in the 1960's.

Herne Bay Bus Rally has been running for years, some times it's bigger than at others years, some times smaller, but it's not the size at Herne Bay that makes it great, it's the diversity.

Peter and Mark both admit to being anoraks,' while Chris and I just like old busses.
Yeh ok, maybe we're a bit anoraky too.
Whether we're anoraks or not, we were all glad we went; especially when another David we're friends with asked us along for a ride on his and Brian's bus on a mystery ride. Ting Ting.

First, here's just a few general shots

One of David & Brian's busses

This was the best bit of rally, Brian and David's single decker ride to The Reculver Towers

David, one of the proud owners

They even ran it on the original route number; Reculver 003,
I know it sounds daft, but we really really enjoyed it.
See, I said it sounded 'daft.'

Shaky Shaky fish and chip shop in H-Bay do the best Gluten Free chips anywhere around with the possible exception of VG Jones in Harbour street Whitstable, we just had to have some.

Trouble was, made late by indulging on chips, we thought we'd missed our two friends who asked if they could pop over to see us for a word about some thing.

Ringing their mobile to say we were running late, we could only apologise when everything went to message...
We were genuinely sorry we'd missed them, we'd make it up to them with dinner, it'll never happen again, KnockKnock!

Happily they were even later than we were, and although we only had half an hour together, it was nice to see them.

Ben and Maria with Chris - I'm sure she only came over to test my chocolate cheese cake.

Liz & Wes's garden party was the final act of the weekend; the grand crescendo.
The company was just right, Wes is a mean hand at the bar-b-q, Julia and Tracy brought along salads, Liz did a Raspberry Roulade, we'd made chocolate and pineapple cheesecakes, and I'm sure the threat of explosion was the only thing that stopped all of us eating.

It was a lovely conclusion to a wonderful day; in fact, a pretty wonderful weekend.
We just hope everyone enjoyed them selves as much as we did.

Oyster fest' carnival, & Classics on the slopes

The second Saturday of Whitstable Oyster Fest' is always Carnival day.

This year's was better than ever, and with spare change gathered over the year in pots for friends to drop into a myriad of collecting buckets, everyone joined in the fun.

Being with friends always helps festivities

Some of the actors involved with Whitstable's local theatre, originally called 'The Play House,'

Kent School of Performing Arts. Perhaps future 'Lindley Players;' the Playhouse's resident actors.

 

This 'Baltan' designed to look a bit like a Rolls, was made from spare parts and bits, by local mechanics.

 

As for the real 'classic cars' on Sunday, that was a real joy. With some thing like six hundred entrants, there literally was everything from the basic Austin A35 from the nineteen fifties to cars you could simply die for.

Funnily enough I got one of these going for a friend years ago, who managed to flog it for just a few hundred.
Strange how things change?

You could either park a Smart car in the boot or land a helicopter on the boot lid.
I think I need CPR

If it came in a brighter colour, maybe, but, nahhh...

Drool

Not sure of how many of these we've ever had

My first car, though mine was a different colour

It surprised me and demanded a second glance to realise this is in deed an estate

The last car I ever owned; a 1300 Maestro.
Mine did 0-60 eventually, 40MPG, and I loved it.

Oh yes, almost forgot this bit. We also saw what we think was a Gloster Meteor flying low towards Herne Bay, where on 15th August 1945 a Meteor broke the Air Speed Record, hitting over 600mph.

Hold the front Page!
Breaking news! Beach hut in Whitstable for only £16,000!



True it's probably a little tatty, and rue it's not in quite the prime location, but yes, for 16k you can have a beach hut.

Am I applauding or ridiculing such a 'cheap' toy? Make your own mind up.

All I know is, if a 'cheap' beach hut is the equivalent of £307 per week - ie, more than some people earn for a forty hour week, it shows the every widening disparity between those that have, and those that don't.

Oh sod it. I was feeling quite cheerful until I started ranting..
Think I'll go and have a cup of tea and come back later.

Islington on Sea
Whitstable AKA Islington on Sea is now boasting a house for sale at 1.758 Million pounds
Expected sale price? £1,755,000.


Funny thing is; 'It's in the Flood Zone!'

Of course lesser mortals could enter the property ladder by buying a beach-hut with scope for improvement for a modest £22,000.
 
Makes you wonder what we are sitting on? garage, patio garden, hmm?
Might even think about it some time....


Oyster Festival
House prices aside, Whitstable (or most of it) has just enjoyed the opening of its great Oyster Festival; held primarily in the harbour which over the weekend boasted a cornucopia of exotic food stalls; goat curry, thai fish stew, Vietnamese rice cakes with …., Belgium crêpes, bacon butties, fish cakes with chips, Indian finger foods, salmon sandwiches, olives, peppers, strawberry,cherries, home made fudge and chocolate, cakes, indeed stalls almost too numerous to count, selling nibbles, substantial meals, or snacks.

Of course the biggest attraction is oysters!

 

To wet your whistle, there were English wine producers, dozens of cider makers, apple juice producers, local beers, strange cordials, coffee stalls and many others I do the discourtesy of forgetting.

 

We visited it Saturday morning before the crush arrived; listened to some music, tried a glass of pink champagne (style) wine from Meopham, very nice too!

Luncheon was Jamaican Goat Curry sitting on the beach, watching the throng. The whole place was heaving.

 

Despite the rain, even Sunday looked as though it should have been 'reasonable' for the traders, judging by the people heading towards the harbour as we walked the seafront with our current doggie charge, I think everyone put a lot of effort into making it what it was.

 

 

2015 so far...

In no apparent order, but so everyone can catch up on what we have been doing, here's a few bits and pieces of the year so far.

 

Camping in June.

 

With the French revolting and closing docks all over the place, our intended destination of France didn't seem as good an option for a holiday this year, hence we found ourselves camping at Ridge Farm, on the edge of the aptly name village of Steep.

Suffice to say a cycle from the campsite into the centre of Petersfield (the only town we know where four cars can create a traffic jam by being so polite to each other; ‘after you,’ 'no, after you.’) takes about 4 to 5 minutes; the return to the site however is more likely to take forty to fifty minutes.
The site itself was brilliant; for me anyway.
Chris would have liked a few more facilities than just a chemi-loo and a tap, both a good hundred yards apart from the other, but at £10 a night, I think we did pretty well.

Our new tent. Being unable to stand up in our old one, I threw my toys out of the pram, stamped my feet a few times for good measure, and said if we didn't get a tent I could stand up in, I wasn't going camping ever again.

Chris rather likes it too! (£75 well spent) 

It had been used once by a courting couple at a festival, and shall we just say he's much happier with his new wife!!!)

 Admittedly the neighbours were a bit nosy, and the adolescent Tawny Owl was noisy as he kept yelling for food, (apparently as chicks they stay reasonably quiet, but into their teens, phew-hoo, can they shriek!) but in almost every other way the quiet was a drug.

(oh yes, and Badgers tend to snuffle as they eat the slugs under the groundsheet)

Of course Snot-Cilla’s 21st birthday party at nearby 'Poshknob Hall’ disturbed slumber one night; (friends arriving in their helicopters gives you a clue of their 'klarse') but other than that? ZZZZZ.

 

Never long enough

Most holidays prove insufficient to see, visit, go to, or experience all the things one wishes to experience.

The Watercress steam train line we did manage, ditto Portsmouth, likewise Reverend Gilbert Whites home and garden.

With scant regard for health or common sence we scaled a local mountain (climbed an ancient hill) & swam in Petersfield's open air pool, or 'Lido.' It's so reminiscent of 'Enid Blyton,' it's a delight.

One evening we even went to a  auction to raise fund's for Nepal, and experienced the A..... local flea pit; one to see 'Holmes,' a film of Holme's later years (6 out of 10), and ??? some thing that eludes me. Perhaps that says some thing about what ever it was that we'd gone to watch?

 

Time for some pic's. Portsmouth first

 

The Spinnaker observation tower

 

Portsmouth is Britain's principal naval harbour

 

View from the Spinnaker tower, of some of Portsmouth's harbour, a lot of it dug out by hand by French prisoners of war in the 18th/19th century 

 

From the tower again, with old Portsmouth to the right of the photo

 

Isle of White on the horizon 

 

View of harbour

 

Chris standing on the Perspex viewing window set in the floor,

this was what he saw when he looked down!

 

 

The Watercress line is something entirely different

 

I know some one will correct me if I say this is an 'xxx' engine, so I won't

 

 

 

 

Didn't expect to see one of these here.

Apparently they have a sort of MOT on the boiler, which permits them to run on main lines at full pressure for seven years. Then they have another year when they can be run on historic lines.

There is a difference regulation on 'ordinary' trains.

 

 

 

 

 

Handyside Bride

 

What a beautiful view.

 

Reverend Gilbert Whites home was far less interesting, but what is amazing is his book; 'Natural History of Selbourne' printed in 1789 which has never been out of print

His 'grounds' or gardens are quite nice, though just a touch quirky.

The wild garden

 

Chris in a barrel, positioned I think as a focal point.

 

Gilbert had a desire to have a Greek statue, but couldn't afford one...

So he had a '2D' one made out of a board.

 

The climb up Ashford Hangars (a big hill) was a extraordinary, as large amount of the hill side consisted almost entirely of Yew. Even those felled by time or wind seem to rejuvenate themselves by growing shoots that become new trees.

 

This fallen Yew may well be thousands of years old. The poor soil restrict their size.

The fungus' that grow on them are beautiful.

The picture of this one really does not do it credit, but it does give an indication of their various colours.