The sun! The sand! The sea!

On Monday I took another day trip, this time to the seaside town of Margate in Kent. I'd bought a cheap return ticket out of Victoria, which turned out to be the milk run. (There are faster, more expensive trains from St Pancras). The train took me through places known and unknown. As we rumbled along, I peeked into windows of flats and offices in towers around Battersea, looked down into back gardens and allotments in Brixton, crossed the River Medway and saw Rochester Castle and Cathedral (Roger and I had visited there a few years ago), got the first glimpse of the sea as we came into Whitstable, and saw the silhouette of the ruined church at Reculver above Herne Bay (Judy, Helen and I had done a day trip to Whitstable and Reculver even more years ago). From that point, it was all new to me. 

The sun was shining as I got off the train in Margate, so I headed straight toward the beach. The town is a fascinating combination of seaside tacky (arcades and casinos),  Victorian iron and wood shelters for sitting and looking out across the water, boarded up shops (some closed for the season and some permanently out of business), twisting lanes, lovely flint cottages, and a ton of photo ops.

I joined a bloke in looking out at the sea.

Passed a twisted letter box.

Ate my packed lunch at the colourful closed-for-the-season Sea Shed.

Walked across the golden sand.

Wandered in the streets and lanes of the Old Town.

Arrived at the Turner Contemporary around 2 pm and looked at the installations by the four artists who have been shortlisted for the 2019 Turner Prize. 

All four works were challenging and dealt with contemporary political and social issues, involving multiple media. This wasn't a "paint a nice picture and stick it on the wall" type of exhibition. I enjoyed aspects of three of the four, but the bubblegum pink feminist utopian city did nothing for me. The other three involved issues of immigration and isolation, women's activism in Northern Ireland, and how sound shapes memory among survivors of a brutal prison in Syria. Here's the review in the Guardian (which I've not yet read). 

When I left the gallery at around 4:30 pm, it was getting cooler, windier and darker, but I was still able to mooch around before making my way back to the train station. I looked for the Gormley sculpture and spotted his head bobbing above the waves. The tide was slowly going out, so I hung around long enough to see his shoulders. 

I made it back to the station in plenty of time for the 6 pm train back to Victoria. The rain started about half way to London. 

So, mates, for a great day out from London, choose Margate!

Stats:
$26.38 for train ticket (that's about 20 quid)
£1.75 for pastel de nata for the ride down
£3.30 for wine for the ride back
16,094 steps
6.71 miles