Jon has had to put up with many oddities from my part along the years (I won’t eat the tip of gherkins, I carry a screwdriver everywhere I go, I am adamant that Paul Newman and Robert Redford make it out alive at the end of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, etc.), so when I insisted that we should visit a sea shell grotto, he looked upon it as yet another expression of my eccentricity, got into the car, and drove to Margate. Continue reading
As some of you may know, I am a bit of a Victorian history geek. So when Jon and I found ourselves in Bristol almost by accident, it was too good an occasion for an immersive experience to miss. Continue reading
I had no thought then of husband or lover,
I was a traveller, the guest of a week;
Yet when they pointed ‘the white cliffs of Dover’,
Startled I found there were tears on my cheek.
“The White Cliffs” by Alice Duer Miller (1940)