Here we are in Dover, with old friends who bear our family name, but to whom we are not related as far as we can tell. Coffee at the National Trust shop over- looking the harbour was very good, but the otherwise fantastic view was rather marred by the torrential rain which rendered the cross-channel ferries somewhat invisible. However, the rain stopped and after a brief shopping stop, we went to Canterbury—me to play golf with Pete, and Ann to spend a fortune on hair dressing and other things—-making it a rather expensive game of golf! The golf was the usual mixture of brilliant, mediocre and downright dreadful shots, but nevertheless still very enjoyable despite the rain coming once again, forcing us to abandon after 12 holes. But the Shepherd Neame beer in the clubhouse as we waited for Ann to come and pick us up was worth the premature end to the game.
Tuesday found us once more in Sandwich for lunch in the George and Dragon, this time in the company of George and Julie, Bren and Ed. Following lunch we made our way to Deal, renowned in days gone by as a smuggling town. Today it is a sea-side holiday town, very much like Herne Bay with a pebbly beach. However, its pier actually reaches the water, unlike Herne Bay where the once famous pier was destroyed by a violent storm in (I think) the 70’s. There were a number of men fishing, both from the pier and the beach, but no-one appeared to have caught any. Like Herne Bay, the main shopping street is now a pedestrian precinct, and appeared to be in a reasonably thriving condition. Unfortunately the shell-fish stall near the pier was closed, so I was unable to get a serve of the local cockles, but I did find a very good delicatessen which had an excellent selection of French cheeses and saucisson.
Wednesday, we made the pilgrimage to Rochester. Rochester is a Medway town that we always went through to get to London, but where we never stopped. Dickens was very fond of it, having spent some of the happiest days of his childhood at nearby Chatham. Later in life he was to buy, live, and eventually die in, Gads Hill Place. Many of the shops and businesses in Chatham, have, like Broadstairs, taken the names of Dickens’s characters for their business names. Thus there is Pip’s café, TinyTim’s icecream shop, Sweet Expectations, Copperfield antiques, Tope’s Restaurant, Peggoty’s Parlour and so forth. The main shopping street is now a pedestrian precinct, and a hive of tourist activity. As tourism has replaced the docks and military garrisons that kept Rochester going in the past, one cannot blame them for using Dickens as a major draw-card. Dickens’s ‘Swiss Chalet’ in which he wrote whilst at Gads Hill, has been relocated into some gardens in the centre of town, and is now the subject of a fund-raising project for its restoration. Also relocated to the gardens is the old horse-powered pump installed at Gad’s Hill by Dickens to draw water from the well.
The Cathedral, said to be one of the most beautiful in England, was packed with visitors who had come especially to see a remarkable collage portrait of the Queen. The local Kent bit of BBC TV had invited people to send in family photos, and thousands of these had been used to create two huge, brilliant portraits of the Queen, one as she looked when she ascended to the throne, and one as she looks now in her diamond Jubilee. From a distance one could not see that it was a collage, but close up every person in each photograph was perfectly recognisable. They had been on display at the Margate Turner centre a few weeks ago, and are travelling around the country, so we were lucky to catch up with them in Rochester.
The ruined castle adjacent to the Cathedral is magnificent, and commands a spectacular view of the River Medway. And everywhere there were beds of brilliant red geraniums, which were Dickens’s favourite flower.
That evening we had a splendid meal in Deal, ending with drinking our ‘digestifs” under the umbrellas on the pavement outside the restaurant on a very balmy evening. A great end to our time in Kent. Thursday morning we packed and headed for Portsmouth.
Slingsby's Miscellany 