Herne Bay: Sunset and the Sea

It is only a short bus ride to Herne Bay; we spent a lazy Sunday there, equipped only with a picnic lunch of fruits, nuts, PB&Js, and digestive biscuits. I took this picture, pressed up against the bus window as we made a brief stop for a few pensioners; I wanted to remember how the sky turned into the water so seamlessly I felt like the world was floating. 

If you squint really hard, you may perhaps be able to make out dozens of snowy white windmills floating off the horizon, spinning gently. Well, you won't be able to see them spinning. As a matter of fact, neither could I. But they were still lovely. 

Although we did not realize it at the time, this photo was probably taken about the time that every greengrocer, thrift shop, and restaurant began shutting down. Had we realized this, perhaps we would have made more of an effort to stroll the streets instead of eating candy floss and wasting 50 pence in the seaside arcade. 

I know I should wait until my upcoming "Isn't Britain funny?" post, but could not contain myself. This place didn't even specialize in hot dogs. 

A shared bottle of wine on the pier as we watched the sun set and all the other day trippers disperse.

Back to London-town: where it poured all day

I just can't keep myself away for too long from London. As a matter of fact, in the time between this trip and the writing of this post, I have already gone back and spent the weekend there. As another matter of fact, I will be going there again this coming weekend (It is the BFI Film Festival, however: so, business+pleasure. Okay, perhaps not technically business. But it is with my film society. And I hope it will be a pleasure.) 

So, here it is; my second London trip in the space of a few weeks! One of the friends I went with had never been outside of the US, so we decided to do a very touristy, traditional day.  This means...yes, the Tower of London. It was inevitable. The crown jewels, the furry hatted solemnity, the intimidating ravens...all were comfortingly familiar, like a favorited you-tube video. 

It also meant strolls along the Thames. As I noted before, the weather was all we could have hoped for; at least in a shoulder-shrugging, plus ca change, plus c'est la meme way. There I am in the center; and actually quite warm, if a little damp, thanks to a life-savingly perfect heavy coat. I've been living in it. Some friends doubt I even have any other garments. I wouldn't care if I didn't. 

I had to. Come on. 

A charming feature of the walkways along the Thames is the cobblestone paths. Charming, that is, until one tries to navigate them wearing high heels. This photo doesn't do justice to their true black-hearted, broken, crumbly danger. I would say "lesson learned" but that would be an outright lie.

Oh, St. Paul's Cathedral. I thought you would be a stable, reliable destination; eternal and stolid. Instead, you have joined a long line of very old buildings who have failed me by either closing at 3:30 in the afternoon or being in a state of not-openness on a Sunday. Westminster Abbey, I am directing a portion of my ire and my seething glare in your direction. 

But at the rate I'm going, it won't be too long before I see your both of your grand innards anyway; before I come crawling back here for more. I have time, and desire, and in a few days I'll be boarding that now-familiar Victoria train. Yet again, London-town, here I come!