The next day was marked by a few fascinating discoveries. Jan and Gary (Jan’s partner) met us over breakfast and told us of a time when Gary had walked into “Awabi” to turn down the bed only to discover one of its occupants naked on the bed in the lotus position with her partner approaching (also naked) clutching a selection of oils and a very large candle. Gary had been unable to show himself at breakfast the next morning. I was slightly perplexed why Jan and Gary had felt it necessary to tell us this story. As we left to explore Whitstable with more purpose I noticed that “Old Saybrook” was located directly above Jan and Gary’s private quarters. The day was full of many delights and discoveries, but for the purpose of brevity I shall concentrate on those I deem most interesting.
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Deciding to use the following day to work we went in search of a quiet bar to discuss things further and eventually ended up in a small restaurant. As we had not booked we settled, rather happily, for a table in the window. Seated side by side we found ourselves facing what appeared to be Whitstable’s main off-licence. A theatrical event unfolded before us. Groups of young men and women formed and reformed as plans were made, some danced, others sang. We wondered if the house opposite was some sort of opium den, until a woman emerged adjusting her nurse’s uniform and we adjusted our thoughts. A man rode his motorised sleigh up to the off-licence and got out leaving his dog seated in the foot well. A woman in a bright azure shift dress and high heels attracted the attention of the craning young men. On the top floor of the tenement a girl was leaning out of her attic window smoking. After a while a large man with pink hair walked past somehow, I’m still not sure why, he seemed out of place. On the way back it rained the light but persistent rain of summer. My companion and I were soaked by the time we reached the comfort of our bed.
Minutes later, clutching the map, we snuck out of the front door noting a display of liqueur bottles with a sign imploring us to take a night cap upon our return. We headed for the Sea front, not an altogether simple task especially with my sore knee. On the way in my companion noted a whole roof covered with Magpies, being especially superstitious, this proved to be of no little interest. After a few wrong turns but nothing too alarming we reached the sea front. I’m not sure what I was expecting, perhaps something a little grander but instead we came across a stretch of shingle divided into booths by large wooden groynes. These booths were each in turn occupied by couples, a couple to each booth. We passed five before finding one to ourselves and spent some time watching the sea and discussing my plans for the trip. The purpose had been two fold, inspiration and location, i.e. the hope that I would find a place to show the results of the commission. We tried to see the Sea Forts but soon found, on our phones, that they were nine miles out to sea and would require boat trip to reach them.
Arrival at the Pearl Fisher
Some weeks earlier, after much to-ing and fro-ing, I had managed to secure a booking
At “The Pearl Fisher” a bed and breakfast I had chosen entirely for its name, and perhaps hoping for a discount. We arrived to find a semidetached house divided into a number of themed rooms. Judging the “Awabi Suite” a little too exotic for my tastes I had opted for “Old Saybrook”, named after Katherine Hepburn’s home town. The door was opened by Jan, a cheery, tall and powerful looking woman with a gravelly voice who guided us to our room. It was decorated in the ‘New England’ style that seemed to consist of lighthouses and doyleys. After a brief tour of the facilities, she disappeared leaving us standing awkwardly among the knickknacks but soon returned holding a hand made map of Whitstable. She handed it to me urging that we visit one or more of the local restaurants that night. With our earnest promises ringing in her ears she left us to unpack.
My companion and I passed the rest of our train journey discussing Mr Cushing’s various film roles. I learned that his boots had been so uncomfortable in his part as Grand Moff Tarkin that he had delivered most of his lines wearing slippers. My foremost memory of him had been as Sherlock Holmes in the “Hound of the Baskervilles” he had played a character not far removed from that of Van Helsing. As a boy I had also loved him in a feature length Dr Who film where he had played a character not unlike Sherlock Holmes. I must say my companion’s knowledge of biographical detail is beyond equal I have only to mention a name and she is instantly able to produce an anecdote both pertinent and interesting.
Although it was a very slow train, the delightful conversation, Wasabi peas and the beauty of the scene as we travelled along, made the journey pass quickly. Before us lay a green sloping land full of fields and woods, with here and there farmhouses and new housing estates. Eventually we caught sight of the sea between gaily painted buildings and Whitstable grew close.
