This is where we went on Saturday. Not only to here, of course, because this is just the station where we arrived, a typical small-town English railway station.
The name of the station is displayed over the middle door, in the small-format house style adopted by this railway company, so you probably can’t read it, even if you click to get the larger version. It is Herne Bay.
We had come to Herne Bay to see Tigger’s brother and he was going to pick us up later in his car. As we had an hour and a half to spare, Tigger suggested we go to the stop of the Bus That Never Comes. (See here.) Here is a view of the bus stop and a bit of Herne Bay. Don’t let the absence of sea fool you: it’s further along. This must have been our lucky day because the bus actually came!
The Bus That For Once Came took us here, to Tankerton Bay. As you see, it has sea, sky and a beach cafe, just as a bay should. It also has a beach but you can’t see that from here.
Out in the bay are the windmills shown at the top of this post. In the haze, they look as if they are floating on the waves but they actually stand on sand banks. Some people like them and some don’t. Either way, more are going to be built.
They like their beach huts in this part of the world and these certainly make a colourful addition to the scene. Until a few years ago, beach huts were falling out of favour and were rotting away or being removed but more recently, there has been a resurgence in interest and rents are soaring (most beach huts are rented out by the town council) and privately owned ones are changing hands at exorbitant prices.
This may seem strange in view of the lack of facilities – no running water, for example – but I suppose location is everything, not to mention a guarantee spot on the beach, and it’s nice that people are still happy to spend the day by the sea, playing in or on the water and watching the boats go by. Tankerton Bay is quiet, compared with some of the more popular resorts, such as Margate, just along the coast.
If you like quiet, though, what more do you need? For the more adventurous, those with Francis Drake’s blood in their veins, there is even a small sailing club.
This was only a flying visit, however, and we soon had to go back to the bus stop to catch the bus back to Herne Bay, but we shall no doubt return here again and perhaps spend more time enjoying sun, sea and sky.
The British climate permitting, of course.