I apologise for not venturing outside my local area recently and bringing you relentless posts from not very far from home. You must be itching to hear about less parochial matters, anything other than the Obloodylmpic Park again, even if that just means a trip to Kent. If this doesn't help nudge my daily readership back up I don't know what will.
✉ This is the ticket hall at Ramsgate station. It's an impressive ticket hall with a lofty roof, a 'Southern' coat of arms and a pair of locked toilets. The W H Smith & Son kiosk is at least a couple of rebrands old, and long shuttered. I thought I'd head for the coast while the weather was nice, and before someone tells us non-essential travel is once again banned, but most importantly before my Gold Card runs out. I've had a Gold Card for 19 years, ever since I moved to London, but it's pointless having an Annual Travelcard at the moment so my magic rectangle with all the special offers expires at the weekend. I won't be getting to Ramsgate for under £20 again.
✉ This is Ramsgate High Street. It's a proper high street, rising from the harbour and partly pedestrianised, generally quite narrow and unlikely to satisfy sophisticated shoppers. All Thanet's big stores were sucked out to Westwood Cross in 2005, leaving Margate, Broadstairs and Ramsgate with the vape shops, phone shops, bargain clothiers and takeaways. A few artistic enterprises thrive amid the Bonmarchés and New Looks, and a photographic exhibition of local architecture is on display across several shop windows. That church with the octagonal lantern poking above the bunting is St George The Martyr, one of Ramsgate's unexpectedly gorgeous buildings (but not a Pugin).
✉ This gift shop caught my eye, or rather the display of fridge magnets outside. Pick from Union Jacks (sorry Flags), deckchairs, beach hearts and, erm, the Red Arrows doing a flypast with red, white and blue trails. The shop's owner also wants to remind passers-by that Brexit is coming, which may not be strictly true but is a surefire way of flogging flags. All products come in Imperial sizes only, because of course they do. Patriots will most likely want a 5-foot-by-3-footer to hang outside their house on New Year's Eve, but shouldn't overlook the benefits of 'Waving Flags', be they large or small, for impromptu in-street celebrations as the clock ticks down to No Deal Whatsoever.
✉ Ramsgate boasts a Royal Harbour thanks to George IV who used to set sail from here when going back to Hanover, his patronage gifting this former fishing village a proper leg-up. Today the marina is mostly full of expensive boats, there being few sheltered anchorages along the Kent coast, but one or two lesser hulks are allowed to moor up on the eastern quayside. The fine summer weather has kept the harbourfront's pubs and restaurants busy, at least for lunch because the sun'll have swung round somewhat by the time it comes to dinner. Topless retirees in red shorts relax beside glasses of half-drunk lager at pavement tables. Grizzled bikers climb off their trusty steeds and queue to sanitise their hands before entering the Royal Victoria Pavilion. If the weather plays ball and extends the season into October, and other epidemiological conditions are satisfied, local businesses will be very pleased.
✉ This is the Clock House, built beside the harbour in 1817 to tell captains and crew what time it was. Originally that meant Ramsgate Local Time, aligned to the Ramsgate Meridian, but since 1848 the clock has shown the time at Greenwich instead, 5 minutes 41 seconds behind. The meridian is now entirely obsolete but was painted as a blue line on pavements across the town in 2017 as part of a bicentenary art project. I'm sorry to have missed it. Today the Clock House is home to Ramsgate Maritime Museum, a five-gallery affair that's never been open during any of my visits to the town, indeed has had a neglectedexistence of late, but at least I got to hear the clock bong one.
✉ Talk about a chequered history. The Ramsgate Tunnels started out as a railway incline delivering travellers and trippers to the harbourside, but closed in 1926. The former station was demolished to became a funfair called Merrie England, which dragged on until 1998 and this year is finally being redeveloped as 106 luxury apartments with a sunrise view. Don't say you're surprised. Meanwhile the railway tunnel was transformed before the start of WW2 as the cornerstone of an extensive public underground shelter, far greater in extent than any other UK town or city provided, which was reopened a few years back as a tourist attraction. I've already been, which is just as well because a coach trip from Gillingham had booked out all yesterday afternoon's slots, but Ramsgate Tunnels remains one of my most "wow this is so much better than I was expecting" experiences. Also, big love for the painted staircase.
✉ The wind is gusting in from the east-north-east, which is unusual, so the waves beating against the Thanet coast are much stronger than usual. Surfers aren't complaining, but anyone walking or cycling along the Marine Esplanade needs to beware of breakers crashing without warning over the seawall. An elderly couple walking their toy dog edge carefully away from the railings, warned off by a telltale puddle crossing the promenade. I slip by unscathed, watching the turbulence ahead to try to judge where it's safe to stand and where not, then pause to try to take a photo of this impressive phenomenon. I judge incorrectly. While I'm getting my phone ready a rush of white spray erupts around me, splattering my shirt with North Sea water and delivering a salty tang to my lips. The elderly couple smile and walk on. I dry out swiftly, but decide to retreat to the safety of the clifftop instead.
