Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Down Whitstable Way

We are lucky enough to not live too far from the coast ourselves. It is usually Brighton that we head to when we have the time. We love the cold wind and the bleakness of the seaside when it is off season. 

We are also blessed to have friends who live in the wonderful Whistable. 

Oh my. If I were to move near to the sea -  I feel this would be the place.

There is a comfortable ebb to Whistable. Yes, come the summer, it does get busy, and the narrow walk ways become a gauntlet of thank you's, sorry's and oncoming traffic dodging.

During the bright, cold weekends of Winter, this is no different. Whistable is a popular place. Even if you are not a fan of oysters -  for which they are famed.

With a shingle beach that you would not want to traverse barefoot, the seafront walk is breezy, no matter the season. Thankfully, I am a fan of  both pebble beaches and chilling winds.

The town is dotted with antique, junk and charity shops. There is particularly wondrous place on the sea front is the aptly names Vintage-on-Sea. This small shop, carved out of the space next to an old boat workshop, is incredibly inviting with it's frocks all a fluttering on a washing line. It catches my attention every time I visit. 

Each time I walk up the sea path, I get to the end and want to turn round and walk straight back instead of hitting the hustle of the town.

People walk their dogs. Kids ride their bikes and push along scooters. Gulls swoop and screech.

All of it makes my face do this.

Oh. I would give a lot to live in one of these cottagey delights. And I think I would certainly have to. Whistable is one of those places that is popular with London folk. Out-of-towners.

Although the people who are lucky enough to live here do have people, in a steady flow, travelling past their glorious front doors daily, it must be wondrous to gaze out first thing in the morning, before anyone else has awoken and all you can hear is the sea and the birds.

The thing I love most about Whistable is the severe lack of usual seaside fare. There are no amusements. It is not a pleasure beach, but a working one. Boats are always in and out of the harbour. Oyster shells are in abundance. Lifeboats are doing practice runs.

There are parts of the beside the seaside stroll that are a little dilapidated. Whenever I have passed this house in the last couple of years, I am always left wondering what I would do with it. After I had removed the resident pigeons who have taken to calling it home. It saddens me that it is left uninhabited. Not that I have a spare x amount of grand down the back of the sofa. 
But oh, if I did. I would clean it's higgledy-piggledyness up quick smart. 
I might learn to paint. And drink only loose leaf tea with lemon.

There is a delicate element to Whitstable. Beach huts are dipped in pastel paints and have people pottering about them in sun and shade.

Further away from the front, there are little convenience stores to be had. That sell tea and cake and serve water in stone jugs to keep it cool. I now need a stoneware jug in my life. 
The thrifting search continues.

And if all this were not enough to convince me I do love the place -  there are classic, ornate reminders of past residents hidden in plain site. 

When can we move?


  1. I too love the seaside and beach huts.your post is lovely.Im up North and we are off to Whitby for a night next week so can't wait to blog about that.:)

  2. You have captured Whitstable perfectly. Thank you.


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