I have been away with my swollen (pregnant) wife to Broadstairs in Kent. First time there - what a place!
Lovely little seaside town, favourite spot of one Charles Dickens. Bleak House is there on the cliffs and there's a musum and everything. (Of course we didn't go. I have to confess to an A-Level induced loathing of Dickens. I like some of his essays, Night Thoughts in particular, but the novels I find hard work. I'm saving them for my later years.)
We paddled, I drank plenty of good Kentish Ale, we read (I'm reading The London Hanged by Peter Linebaugh, Mary is loving Flea Palace by the brilliant Elif Shafak) we ate fresh meat pies. We saw Peter "Mr London" Ackroyd twice!
I'm not surprised Peter Ackroyd likes Broadstairs. It is stuck in a little Victorian timewarp but not a dull Victorian timewarp. There were all sorts there. Not just old ladies clustered round the bandsatnd (though they were there) but loads of lager swiling lads and ladettes too - a real cross-section of London life...gone to the seaside...
We will be back.
Did I mention the meat pies?
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My grandparents lived in Broadstairs. Trips to see them were always a highlight of Summer holidays. Rather inconveniently they have died now.
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