The sea, the sea, ....

My first years were spent near the sea: both in Aberdeen, a fishing city on the NE coast of Scotland, and Thessaloniki, an historic international trading post on the NE coast of Greece.  My cousin in the latter location still has an apartment overlooking the wide harbour, and from her balcony I have spent many an hour being soothed by the view.

I used to love swimming in the sea at idyllic locations like the one below down the coast from Salonica. 

But the sights of the sea which inspire me the most are of ordinary work-a-day life: people in conjunction with the sea.  The fishermen - even if they are not professional:

either in Salonica, or in Southwold, Suffolk -

but I must admit I derive the greatest joy and satisfaction from watching work in and around the sea and deriving a living from and with the sea, and seeing the whole world of activity, architecture, vehicles, engineering, and even detritus of that work.

At the end of last month I had completed most of the paper work associated with my mother's death, and we decided to take off a few days.  I wanted to see the sea, and so we decided to explore a stretch of coast new to us both.  We visited the southern tip of the Thames estuary, and travelled down from the Isle of Sheppey, stopping to look at Queenborough and Sheerness, and then on to Whitstable, Herne Bay, Margate, Broadstairs, Ramsgate, and then on the way home a few days later we visited Dungeness.  Each of these individual places, most of which almost run into each other, has its own distinct character and function.  The trip was successful in that it provided a much needed break, it gave us unexpected delights, and provided inspiration towards a positive outlook.  It was deeply satisfying.

Here are a few of my snaps: Queenborough on Sheppey

From Whitstable which is a popular tourist town, and was still buzzing on the Sunday, but quietened down nicely for us during the week.  We enjoyed the restaurant Samphire so much that we ate there two evenings in a row.

Some folks live precariously right on the beach and risk high tides, and it is possible to stay in former fisherman's huts converted to hotel rooms.

Whitstable is famous for its oysters.  Neither of us has had a great love of the beastie in its raw state - which is perhaps just as well! - despite otherwise liking cooked seafood.  They recycle the shells to good effect here as well in the USA.

Margate now has a stunning new gallery on the shore just by the harbour: the Turner Contemporary.  We were interested to find a thought-provoking exhibition on about youth, which contained quite an eclectic collection of work about youth or by young artists.

The tide was coming in when we went for our walk along the coast, and I was fascinated by how the waves can move in seemingly opposite directions at the same time. Although I don't think I've quite been able to capture it in this photo.

Broadstairs felt very historic to me.  And I could imagine some Victorian, or earlier folk bustling about its streets and looking anxiously out of their windows at the sea.

Dungeness however felt completely other-worldly.  It is a shingle spit with a bleak aspect, containing small fishermen's huts, some occupied, and some ruined.  It is a conservation area, there is a power station, there is wild noise from the wind (and we had a quick hailstorm).  The late film maker and painter Derek Jarman's house and famous garden is there, and there is another traditional black house/hut which is architect designed and clad in rubber - although it fits right in with everything else.  It is not an alien land as such - really I felt that we were the aliens who had landed.  I could not live there, but I just love the look of it.