Another bumper Broadstairs bonanza.

Sunday 6th October.
Not Hagibis but pretty hurricane like.

As I mentioned in my last post I am going to quickly run a few days together on one post here as not very much of interest actually happened. I was doing much the same things every day and slowly regaining what health and vitality I may have once possessed and, apart from the inconvenience of self-injecting an anti-coagulant subcutaneously into my abdomen twice daily, my recovery was coming along nicely.

A quick glance out the window on Sunday morning showed that it was a pretty miserable day and I was glad I had visited the Food Festival the previous day when it was not exactly tropical but not too bad but all that was to change. I decided I might as well get the most out of my rover ticket on the bus and took myself off for a day in the Royal Victoria Pavilion in Ramsgate again. My day is effectively summed up in the three images above – excellent breakfast, awful weather and then an evening meal of a small Hawaiian pizza. I am so glad Wetherspoons have introduced this 8″ pizza as even with my recovered appetite a full sized offering after a large breakfast would still make me struggle, I reckon.

I decided on a quiet night in the Wrotham and was regaled with tales of how a mini hurricane had just about obliterated the Food Festival, blowing down tents, reducing the ground underfoot to a quagmire and generally wreaking havoc. It was so bad that the Festival had to close early which is a shame. During a later conversation with one of the Directors I found out that they had no option as, apart form their own safety consciousness, they were not insured for winds of the strengths being recorded. I was a mere four miles along the coast and whilst the weather was bad it was nowhere like as severe as Broadstairs which only reinforces my point form a few posts ago that Broadstairs really does have it’s own microclimate.

At the same time as this was going on, Typhoon Hagibis was creating complete devastation in Eastern Asia, disrupting the Rugby World Cup although that is unimportantin view of the 86 lives lost which somewhat puts a sporting contest into context. It also demonstrated the fundamental goodness of rugby people as both the Canadian and Namibian squads were out helping with the cleanup operation. One of the Canadian players said that they had been hosted so wonderfully that it was the least they could do to lend a hand. Well played, lads.

7th October
Laundry, ladybirds and a late lunch.

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Well it was about time.

Monday came around to start yet another week in Thanet and I decided to do some laundry or rather it decided for itself as it was approaching the critical and so off I trotted to Ramsgate again to the laundrette. Like the A&E (ER) or outpatients at the local hospital, I always take a book with me as it can be mind-numbingly boring otherwise. I was reading said book (a Simon Scarrow if memory serves) and breathing deeply as I love the smell of laundrettes, when I felt something on the back of my right hand. Looking down, I saw the tiniest ladybird I have ever seen quite happily doing whatever it was doing. I knew I had to take a picture but that was to prove to be easier said than done.

 

I did not want to move my right hand at all lest the fragile little critter took off. My camera was in the front right hand pocket of my jeans and so it was a bit of a feat of dexterity to get it out, turn it on, adjust the zoom and take the images whilst trying to remain perfectly still but I managed it. Above you can see the shot “as is” to give an idea of just how tiny the little insect was and also with a bit of cropping to give you a better look. It even went for a bit of a wander round my hand before taking off. I have often heard that a ladybird landing on you is lucky and although I am not superstitious I must confess I felt very happy and probably had a big soppy grin all over my ugly mug.

Having missed my now customary breakfast I was getting a bit “esuriant” to use that lovely word as featured in the wonderful Monty Python cheese shop sketch and I fancied a bite to eat so back to the Pavilion where the grub is always good, served quickly and not expensive. Although I would eat breakfast at any hour they only serve an all day brunch which I didn’t really fancy but a look at the menu suggested a beauty of an option, namely steak and kidney pudding. This is not to be confused with steak and kidney pie, which is fine, but there is not much to beat a proper suet pudding. That was decided then and I was promptly presented with the very tasty looking offering you see below.

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Proper grub – steak and kidney pud.

I have a bit of a problem with this dish as it is served here, however. I am not a huge fan of gravy at the best of times but with chips (fries for my American friends) it is just wrong. OK, I have had poutine in Canada as it is virtually impossible to visit there and not sample what is effectively their national dish and I quite enjoyed it. At least JDW have the decency to serve it in a proper boat and so a small amount on the pudding and the whole lot disappeared p.d.q.

I spent the rest of the evening in there trying manfully and failing miserably to get this blog up to date (I swear it will never happen) and by the time I got back to my digs you wouldn’t believe it but that appetite of mine had kicked in again. Much as I love staying in the Wrotham, and I do, my cooking facilities are limited to a kettle so I have to box a bit clever in that respect and frankly I am getting a little tired of pot noodles! However, I had been to the Food Festival and laid in supplies as you will know if you read the last entry here and after the idiotic attempt at an arty image you can see with me “posing” the tomatoes, I did knock up quite a pleasant feed. A scrubbed out pot noodle container served as a small mixing bowl and some halved vine cherry tomatoes with balsamic vinegar accompanied by two wonderful Ashmore cheeses (chilli and mustard) was a decent enough supper for me prior to sticking yet another damned needle into my abdomen then having a few chapters of my book and off to sleep.

8th October.
Not a lot to read about really.

According to my images, what happened today was not a thing
Not a single thing, nothing at all, nil, zero, nowt, zilch, you get the picture and so we shall pass swiftly on to……………..

9th October.
Were did the summer go?

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Another fine brekkie.

OK, I know I spent mid August to mid September in hospital but the autumn seemed to have set in quickly and severely as one of the images above shows. It was an overcast horrible day and I didn’t much fancy doing anything until the evening when I had promised to be at the Wrotham again for Griff’s open Mic Night. I enclose the obligatory breakfast image above with the comment that the black pudding Wetherspoons use is very tasty, I wonder where they source it.

 

Nothing much more to report until the evening when I duly turned up for Griff’s do which is held once a month and which I really enjoyed. Griff is one of three excellent resident sound engineers who all hang out in the Wrotham, it really is that sort of a place. They all drink there even when they aren’t working. In addition, Griff and Brian are both excellent musicians and, amongst other projects, are half of a band called Snake Oil Trading Company who I look forward to seeing tomorrow afternoon as I write this in late October 2019.

I was offered an opportunity to do a few numbers but the truth is that I was pretty exhausted albeit I had done nothing much all day. I am not sure if it is the effects of my illness, the sea air, advancing old age or a combination of any or all of them but I do feel tired quite a lot and regularly take an afternoon doze. I did not actually need to do anything as there were plenty of willing volunteers including a drummer who can have been no more than about 12 sitting in with the house band and a very talented young lad singing and accompanying himself on keyboards who was not much older. I am constantly amazed at the quality and quantity of musical talent in this fairly small area and long may it continue. Obviously I did not have far to go to crash out and so ended another fairly quiet but very enjoyable day.

10th October.
Still not hot enough.

Again, very little to report on the 10th of the month which was another day in the Royal Pavilion in Ramsgate vainly trying to get this blog somewhere under a month in arrears. Yes, I was in a rut, yes, it is very boring reading which is why I am whizzing through it as quickly as I can and yes, it seemed to be doing me good or at least it wasn’t doing me any harm. The number of people that were telling me by then that I was looking so much better surprised me even though very few had thought to tell me I was looking awful when apparently I was. I suppose they were just being polite.

As to the tagline at the heading of this section, it is something of a double entendre in the proper and non smutty sense of the phrase. Firstly, the weather was certainly not hot enough for my liking and I was increasingly trying to work out how to get somewhere warmer that did not involve flying as the thrombosis ruled that out completely. Morocco and Turkey overland were both suggesting themselves and still are and the Lebanon has been a place I have wanted to visit for as long as I can remember but getting there overland at present might be difficult unless I go through Cyprus on ferries. I must look into that.

My usual Southerly migration to Asia is feasible at ground level but I’d like to leave such a major undertaking until I am in a more settled situation healthwise. By that I do not mean physically stronger although that is a consideration but moreso logistical matters like sourcing my medication, some of which I shall be taking for life, in far flung places. I am definitely not contemplating leaving UK until I am finished with the injections as the thought of taking relatively bulky syringes and sharps boxes through borders does not really appeal although I know it can be done. These are all things to be looked into and I have plenty of time.

Apart from the weather, the “before and after” images above should give you a clue as to the second part of the double entendre and that was a good old Ruby. UK readers will probably know what a Ruby is in this context but for others I should explain that a Ruby is rhyming slang for a curry deriving from Ruby Murray = curry. Ruby Murray was a famous singer and actress from the place of my birth and adolescence – Belfast. I am amazed and humbled when I occasionally check my stats page here and discover I have readers all over the world so thank you all so much and I shall attempt to explain any British colloquialisms as I go along but back to the Pavilion and my Ruby.

Every Wetherspoons in the country, which is over 1,000 outlets and increasing, has a “Curry Club” on a Thursday night and they boast in their promotional material that they are Britain’s biggest curry house that night of the week. Frankly, I can believe it. They have even gone so far as to have their own branded mango chutney produced for them which I do like as it is a little spicy and certainly stands comparison with any of the popular branded products. They rate their curries with chilli symbols from one chilli (mild) to five chillies (extremely hot) and I opted for the lamb madras which is the sole four chilli (very hot) offering and which I have enjoyed greatly before. As the image shows, each curry is served with naan bread, basmati rice and poppodum and I have tried most of the range which have all been very good. You can also add samosas and / or onion bhaji if this is not enough for you.

I like a fairly well spiced curry and even the milder ones are tasty without being volcanically hot although I have had some fairly lively offerings, specifically in Northeast Thailand and in my friend’s home in Sri Lanka. I will accept no argument, my dear friend Treshi makes the best curries on the planet bar none.
My beef madras is described on the menu and the attached website as “Tender pieces of diced beef, in a spiced tomato sauce, with onion, coconut, mustard seeds and chilli” and damned tasty it is too but what it is not is “hot, hot, hot” and I now have that irritating 1980’s disco song in my head having written that! I am in no way Mr. Asbestos Mouth as some of my mates seem to be, ordering ridiculous things like vindaloos and phalls in proper Asian restaurants where they really do mean hot when they say it but whilst this had a pleasant “afterburn” it was nothing like as hot as I can eat enjoyably. I certainly would not have put it at four on a five chilli scale. I think the “after image above says it all really.

I’ll take a break here as this post is getting a bit long and the next one will be another multiple where I take a trip to Canterbury and don’t do a single piece of sightseeing. If you want to find out what exactly I was doing, stay tuned and spread the word.

Roaming and return to Ramsgate.

Special offer – two days for the price of one.

Thursday 19th September was another lovely day although I did not do much with it and so I shall content myself with a brief entry here and post the whole thing on the 20th as it seems a bit pointless making a post for so little otherwise.

Having gone to Margate the previous day, I thought I may as well utilise my Loop Bus pass to go the other way and return to Ramsgate for another day. A quick wander round town where I checked out the numerous charity shops as I ten to do. My beloved old DPM (Disruptive Pattern Material aka camo) jacket had fallen hors de combat (get it?) with the zip giving out and the weather, whilst beautifully sunny still, certainly wasn’t warm. Having set out on this trip with only the one top coat, it was obvious I was going to need something to replace it.

Street scene, Ramsgate.
Street scene, Ramsgate.

The urban decay I spoke of at length in the previous post in Margate is also evident in Ramsgate as you can see although not perhaps to quite the same extent and there is no shortage of charity shops to choose from. In one I found a decent quilted waterproof jacket which fitted nicely but there was just one problem. It had a Saracens rugby team logo on it and they are not my team so I just could not bring myself to do it. A little further down the hill I found a brilliant leather motorcycle jacket for £15 (absolute bargain) and I tried it on. It fitted like a glove. What prevented me from buying it there and then I will never know but I didn’t and carried on with my unzipped camo. Luckily I had plenty of layers on as the wind was pretty raw and I do feel the cold a bit, probably because I have no meat on me! Still, you can’t fatten a thoroughbred as they say.

By then it was time for breakfast with my newly refound appetite so I decided to head for the Royal Victoria Pavilion, the JD Wetherspoons place I have mentioned before. OK, I am a creature of habit really and people do scoff at JDW but I am not going to go over the arguments again here, I like them.

Royal Harbour, Ramsgate.
Are you tired of it yet?

Of course, it would not be as simple as me just walking there as I have to skirt round the Royal Harbour to get to the pub and so I had to stop for yet another image of it. I swear that body of water is to me as a shoe shop is to Imelda Marcos – I just cannot pass it so you are going to be “treated” to another one. Be fair, it is very pretty and I remember when my mate Richard had his boat moored here. I had some great afternoons just sitting on it watching the harbour life, it was most pleasant.

Breakfast, JD Wetherspoons, Ramsgate.
Very tasty but why did I go for the diet option?

Hungry as I was, my image shows that I perversely opted for the small breakfast which was lovely as always but hardly a “breakfast of champions” in terms of size. I must have been planning to eat another three meals that day or something.

If I have a slight criticism of Wetherspoons it is that they have taken it upon themselves to ban vaping in all their premises as have many other establishments. This is despite the fact that vaping is perfectly legal in public places although I wonder how long that will last. British misgovernments (that is not a typo) of both political hues have been working for some time now on the “nanny state” system of ruling us and if I were a betting man I would put a small wager that they will legislate against vaping in the same way as tobacco within ten years. Strange to think that only about 18 months ago the NHS were debating prescribing vapes as an aid to smoking cessation!

Ramsgate beach.
View from a pub door.

However, in the way of clouds and silver linings and so on, look at the view I have when I do step out the door to boost my nicotine levels up from the critical. Not bad, eh? I spent a few hours in the Royal before heading back to Broadstairs for another quiet evening and early bed, well early by my standards anyway.

Revolutions (non-violent), rinsing and retail in Ramsgate.

Friday 20th September was another decent day weather wise but that did not really matter to me as I was pencilled in for a day of domestics, well half a day at least. I always pack light despite experience telling me that I was quite likely to stay in Thanet for some time and to put no too fine a point on it I was running out of clothes. I knew that the one laundrette in Broadstairs had closed down (like most of the premises in town) and a quick internet search showed the nearest to be either Ramsgate or Margate. I knew the bus ran right past the Ramsgate premises and so I decided on that. Besides, the Ramsgate option gave me another chance to go and look at that bike jacket which I had been thinking about on and off.

In the same way that I know a good book is required for a hospital waiting room, so I know that a laundrette is much the same scenario although it is a long time since I used one. As I walked from the bus stop I noticed something vaguely familiar three or four doors along from where I was headed, a Beano Cafe. More of this shortly.

I went into the laundrette where I was the only customer and spoke to the very friendly lady there who was most helpful and fetched me washing powder got me the correct change and set the machine for me (she was later to do the same with the drier). Although I had not paid for a service wash, it might as well have been one. I hit on a bit of a plan and asked my “new best friend” if it would be OK if I popped round to the cafe for a spot of breakfast as my washing went round and round. It seemed a better option than sitting there with the book. She told me it was no problem and my kit would be fine and so I headed off to the Beano.

Beano cafe, Ramsgate.
I just knew what this was.

As you can see, there is a fairly distinctive sign here with the word Beano picked out in red and yellow. Those UK readers of a certain age (i.e. mine) will recognise this as the typeface of a British children’s comic of long-standing and when I say that I mean it as it is the oldest British comic, first published in 1938 by D.C Thomson of Dundee. At time of writing in early October 2019 it has just passed it’s 4,000th edition – some going, but back to the cafe.

For years at Broadstairs Folk Week I camped on the official campsite which was at the “top” of the town and I had a daily walk down High Street to where most of my my gigs were. The Beano was not actually the first cafe you came to but it was not far from my tent and it was certainly the favourite of many festival goers. In recent years I had not been in as it was a long walk up that hill and at the “wrong” end of town for me although all that was to change as you shall see in a future post. I was guessing that this establishment must be in some way related to the Broadstairs one and it turned out my surmise was right to an extent but I shall leave the full story for it’s rightful chronological place in this series.

Beano cafe, Ramsgate.
Simple and delicious.

A light breakfast of poached eggs on toast was all that was required and although it was not confirmed at that point, I just knew it was the same operation as Broadstairs with much the same menu, including a great delight for me which is corned beef, egg and chips at a very reasonable £3:50. It was a bit early for that but it was noted for future reference as I simply love corned beef and you just do not see it in cafes any more. For the benefit of my North American readers, this is not corned beef as you know it but rather the stuff that comes in cans or thinly pre-sliced in rectangles and sold loose or packaged.

Grange Road laundrette, Ramsgate.
No I didn’t strip off.

The breakfast was lovely and I was pleased to see that the cafe was full of tradesmen tucking into huge fry-ups and mugs of builder’s tea which is always a good sign. Having finished, I wandered the 50 or so yards back round to the laundrette just in time to transfer my entire wardrobe (for such it was) to the tumble dryer. I had even taken off my combat jacket and thrown it in. I was reminded of the old 1985 Levi’s TV advertisement which showed a young man going into an American laundromat as they are called there and basically stripping off to his underwear to launder his clothes. I caused quite a stir at the time and did the male model, Nick Kamen, no end of good as it launched him on a brief career as a pop star. I did not go quite that far as it was a bit chilly and I thought the local constabulary may have taken a dim view, not to mention the lady in the laundrette and what I took to be her husband in the back office. I couldn’t shake the image out of my head though.

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My new favourite bit of kit.

With the domestics completed and the belly full I headed straight back into town and the Shelter charity shop  hoping against hope that the bike jacket was still there. I would have kicked myself if it had been sold but I need not have worried. I tried it on again and apparently neither it nor I had changed size or shape appreciably overnight so it still fitted like a glove. I know from experience that leather is useless for repelling water but it was well-padded and warm and whilst I should have bought a sensible winter coat, I had to have this. At time of writing I have been wearing it daily and I absolutely love it.

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I reckon I stole this from them!

It is the best £15 I have spent in a long time as I reckon it is worth ten times more than that new but thankfully it is not new.  It is a bit scuffed and battered, obviously well-worn which saves me the bother of “distressing” it. I hate wearing new clothes that look like new clothes. Have a look at the image above and tell me it was not an absolute steal, plus which the charity get a few £££ so it is a win all round I reckon.

 

On my way back to the bus I happened upon a decent sized street market which I had never seen before but which appeared to be doing a reasonable amount of business.  I had a look round but did not buy anything as purchasing a jacket is more than enough retail therapy for me for one day!

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Merely a snack whilst awaiting my next meal.

I eventually headed back to my digs and helped myself to a Pot Noodle before a quick afternoon dozette which is what happens when you get to my time of life. When I awoke I showered and dressed, complete with my newly acquired jacket and headed back to the George for the evening. I mentioned earlier that my appetite had returned with a vengeance so about 2100 I went across the road to the wonderful Seafarer fish and chip shop and ordered fishcake and small chips or so my image tells me.

Fishcake and "small" chips.
Fishcake and “small” chips.

Dave, the manager of the George does not do regular food in the bar (although he is an excellent chef and often produces very tasty bar snacks) but he is quite happy for you to bring your own food in and consume it on the premises. He is that kind of manager and it is tht kind of pub. It is not just because I am well-known there as the staff tell complete strangers who come in enquiring about food the same thing. Not only that but the staff of the Seafarer will actually bring it over to the bar for you when it is ready as they cook everything to order and it is always piping hot and very fresh. How good is that? Table service in a bar that does not even do food. I should mention in passing that this is a small portion of chips (fries) and I can rarely finish it even with my rediscovered appetite. I have seen a large portion and I swear it would feed either a family of four or a hungry sumo wrestler. Sashimi and chips anyone?

Back home after having stuck manfully to my drink and cigarette allowance, a couple of chapters of my book and off to sleep. That is another thing that seems to have sorted itself out to a degree. I have often mentioned in previous posts about my odd sleeping patterns and, whilst they are probably not what would be deemed to be completely normal now, they have certainly settled down into some sort of rhythm. Whether ot is the sea air (which always makes me tired) or something else I do not know but I am usually asleep before 0200 and do not wake up until morning and having said that I am just going to make a liar out of myself.

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Half a midnight (well, 0430) snack.

I awoke in the middle of the night to attend a call of Nature (too much information I know) and having dealt with that I suddenly came to the realisation that I was hungry but how was that possible? I had eaten that huge portion of fishcake and chips at 2100 and it was now just past 0400 (I know because I checked my image time) and I needed feeding again. Fortunately, I always have a few bits and pieces in my room for emergencies like this and so I made some pancakes with marmalade. You can see three here but that was not enough and I eventually finished the pack of six washed down with some fruit juice. That was better and I managed to get back to sleep.

If you want to see what I manage to shovel down my throat when I get going the next day then stay tuned and spread the word.

I can’t keep away – QEQM hospital again.

Entrance, QEQM hospital, Margate.
I know this door better than I know my own front door.

On the 17th September, I awoke after another excellent night’s sleep in my comfy bed in my quiet cosy room and I felt good. I knew I wanted to stay round Broadstairs and Thanet for a while as a) even getting a cab to and from the train stations at either end I was not sure if I was physically strong enough to hump all that luggage back to London and b) it is so much better an environment to aid recuperation. I was still a bit surprised as to how weak I felt but I suppose it is natural. Jackie was happy for me to stay more or less as long as I wanted so everything was set fair.

Unfortunately, there was still the problem of getting registered with a Doctor locally and getting repeat prescriptions etc. If you have not read the previous post here, I had been turned away from the local health centre despite several hospital Doctors telling me they were legally obliged to take me on. The simple fact of the matter was that I needed medication and my only option was to go back to A&E (ER) at the hospital albeit that I knew it was a ridiculous waste of the time of a Doctor already busy in an already over-stretched department. I queued up again, checked in and then sat down for the long wait with another large, good book. I was not too bothered by that as there were other people there obviously in need of much more urgent attention than me.

I was finally shown through to a small room to speak with the lovely Dr. de Giorgio who quizzed me about my current condition and wrote the script out in the matter of a few minutes. She also checked across the corridor where the door to the opposite consulting room was open and asked me if I could just say hello to her colleague, the Doctor who had initially admitted me what seemed like half a lifetime ago. Sure that was no problem until the Doctor explained that her colleague (whose name I still do not know) had spoken of me when I was admitted and said that it was a long time since she had seen anyone looking as ill as I had. I have a mirror in my room and I didn’t think I looked that bad but obviously so.

The Doctor also told me that her colleague had checked with my ward later the next day to check that the surgery had gone OK, just to be sure. I wonder if she does that for every patient she admits. Somehow I doubt it and it was a bit worrying albeit I only found after everything was sorted. Naturally I went to see the other Doctor and cracked a joke about rumours of my demise being greatly exaggerated. She said I was looking a lot better than I had been before and wished me well. Nice lady.

I know of a couple of pharmacists in Broadstairs but my friend had been telling me before how poor even the largest one was when she was trying to fill prescriptions and so I jumped on the Loop bus as I had topped up my weekly card. I reckoned that as Ramsgate was a larger place than Broadstairs I might have had a better chance of success. As it turned out that was a false hope and it was the Enaxoparin sodium syringes that were causing the problem. The first pharmacy did not have them and the second one which was the biggest in the town could only give me 20 of the 30 prescribed which would have meant a return trip so I did not bother as I had enough for the night and thought I might go to Margate the following day.

I was in Ramsgate and waiting for a bus back to Broadstairs and took a couple of images of the harbour although I do not really know why as I already have dozens from every angle and in every weather condition you can imagine. I just love the place and, as is my way, I am going to share a little factoid with you about it. It is the only Royal Harbour in the UK and received the designation in 1821 from King George IV, a German who used to embark here en route to Hanover. He was so pleased with the rapturous welcome he got from the townspeople that he granted the title and allowed his Royal Standard to be flown three times a year, a tradition that continues to this day.

Old Rover car seein in Ramsgate.
What a beauty.

I also took a quick image of the lovely Rover you can see above. I do not know if it is my imagination but there seem to be an awful lot of wonderful old cars around Thanet, I seem to see them everywhere. From the number plate I reckon this was registered in 1970.

I got the bus back to Broadstairs and, more in hope than in expectation, went into the local chemist clutching my prescription. A quick check and the young lady told me I was in luck and that they had everything I needed. Happy days.

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Yes, this is all for me!

I could not resist taking the image above which is my personal “medicine cabinet” on the mantlepiece in my room. Terrifying, isn’t it?

Cinelli Brothers Band at the Wrotham Arms, Broadstairs.
The Cinelli Brothers taken without flash! Honestly, you could see them.

The evening was taken up in the Wrotham where the excellent Cinelli Brothers Band were playing. The brothers are the drummer and the frontman with the hat who are London based Italians and the other two guys are British. They play really good basic blues and do it very well. You can have a look here to get an idea. They are also very friendly guys and I had a chat with a couple of them. Definitely recommended if you get chance to see them. I d not know how she does it but Jackie punches well above her weight with the quality of the music she puts on in what is a pretty small pub.

Having jabbed myself, filled up on various medications and dressed wounds I turned in for a few chapters of my book and another nights sleep.

I am still in Broadstairs writing this in October so if you want to know what I got up to whilst recovering please stay tuned and spread the word.

Vincent, half a breakfast, two gigs and back to bed.

I woke up well rested again early on the morning of Thursday 15th August and due to my late arrival from London it was already the penultimate day of the Festival and I felt as if I had barely started. I had a bit of time to spare so I decided to go for a look round Spencer Square where the hotel was as someone had told me that Vincent van Gogh once lived there. It did not take me long to find the appropriate blue plaque commemorating the fact on the wall of number 11 on the opposite side of the square. I love blue plaques as I find them are endlessly interesting.

A few doors along there was another blue plaque, this time erected by the Ramsgate Society commemorating the residence of one John Gibson Lockhart (1794-1854) who I had never heard of but was apparently editor of the Quarterly Review which I had similarly never heard of although internet research shows it was a journal published from 1809 -1967. It appears that Lockhart was more famous for being the son-in-law of the writer Sir Walter Scott. Not much of a claim to fame really and I think I may have an answer to why about every third building in Ramsgate “boasts” a local plaque and that is that Margate, just along the coast is exactly the same. Ramsgate and Margate have traditionally been rivals and are now competing for the tourist second home and retirement home markets amongst others and I think there is some one upmanship going on. Of course, I could be wrong and it would not be the first time.

I had not really eaten for a couple of days and so I took myself to the huge Royal Victoria Pavilion, a fairly new J.D. Wetherspoons venue (OPENED 2018) on the seafront adjacent to the Royal Harbour. It is their largest outlet by far and was the largest pub in the UK when it opened. Despite this, it has some very strange menu / drink choices and one of them impacted on me here. JDW do a number of variations on the theme of Eggs Benedict of which my favourite is Eggs Royale which substitutes salmon for the traditional ham yet this is the only Wetherspoons I know that does not offer it. Nor does it offer Strongbow cider although it is on the tabletop advertising blurb. I noticed another omission from the normal menu but I cannot recall what it is just now. I really do not understand the thinking.

Eggs Benedict it was then, beautifully cooked and served promptly and yet my ever-decreasing appetite did not even allow me to finish it, tasty as it was but at least it was some food in me and I took what was supposed to be a bit of an arty image of the beach through the window from where I was sitting. I have to say that the views from the Pavilion are stunning and there will be more in further posts in this series.

It is only a short walk to the bus and another one at the far end in Broadstairs and I was once again setting up with Paul for yet another playaround. Happy days and again there was a reasonable crowd for this late in the week. When this was over, Paul and Sue again took off somewhere and I decided to sit tight again as the afternoon act was another guy I know called Gabe so I settled in for that, again drinking little and still not feeling quite up to par.

Gabe often plays troubadour but on this occasion was backed by another guy I know and have jammed with called Jeff on bass and another couple of musos who I did not know. Gabe does a few of his own but predominantly covers and he does love James Taylor (who doesn’t?) so that got a good outing. For me, the highlight was when he got Bessie from the Dealers band up for a number, which you can see here. I am not sure if the Dealers are actually still a functioning unit but it was Bessie and a guy called Pierre and they were very, very good. I discovered them at Folk Week years ago. Don’t worry about the name, it is nothing to do with drug dealing but rather that they come from the town of Deal in Kent, simple as that!

Not long after the band had finished my ‘phone went and it was Paul asking me if I fancied joining him and Sue for a pint in the Magnet, another of the numerous micropubs in the area. As it is literally 50 yards up the road and in the direction I would eventually be going anyway, that seemed like a plan and so I said my goodbyes at the bar, picked up my guitar and moved onwards, ever onwards.

When I went into the Magnet I met quite a few people I knew as well as Sue and Paul so it was another round of handshakes and hugs all round. I suppose I should give you a quick rundown on the place which I first encountered many years ago as the Fish and Beer bar which was exactly what it was, a Belgian themed establishment with an open kitchen, limited but tasty menu and a great selection of great if expensive beers. It was owned by a guy who owned a quite upmarket fish restaurant in Ramsgate and he really did not have time to keep both projects going so he put it on the market and it was bought by my great friends John and Jo who I have known for years. They changed the name to Reef and carried on much in the same vein as before although over the several years they had it the food took a gradually less forward role but there was still a superb selection of interesting beers. In 2018 they were forced to close for a while as the cellar was flooded by a mains leak in the road outside and I was asked to play the re-opening night which I did with my dear friend Noel McAuley and we had a great night. Well, it was a great night until the point right at the end where I misjudged the relative positions of the bar stool I was playing on and the wall behind and with my final, “Thank you, goodnight” ringing in their ears the crowd were treated to me doing a not very graceful dying swan off the back of the stool, cracking my head on the wall and ending up with my legs in the air in an undignified heap but still clutching the miraculously undamaged guitar.

Thankfully there was no harm done except to my pride and I will eventually get round to writing up when I put together Broadstairs 2018 as a project here! Don’t hold your breath though.

I was introduced to Will, the new landlord, and his good lady, was made to feel most welcome and sat down for a bit of a chat and a catch up. I really had no intention of playing any more that day but, as my dear friend Suzi once remarked to me, “You are just a party waiting to happen”. There is undoubtedly more than a grain of truth in this as there is with most things she says and never moreso than when I am with Paul as we just seem to egg each other on.

Paul Lucas and Fergy Campbell at the Magnet micropub Broadstairs.
Paul and I doing what we love to do.

The original plan was that we would just go and sit in the “Musicians Corner” and play a few tunes and songs acoustically. Well, that was the plan anyway. Somehow it escalated into having one ambient mic just for a bit of poke although between my voice and Paul’s banjo we could fill that space three times over, it really is a micro micropub. As well as being a purveyor of fine alcoholic refreshment, Will is a card-carrying sound engineer and a very good one at that. His argument was why bother with one ambient when he had the full PA rig already deployed and ready to go and so we ended up as you see us above, fully stage rigged as we would be for a proper paid gig. Why not as I was still playing catch up to a degree and was relatively fresh despite my illness? Paul is just like the Duracell bunny, he never knows when to quit.

To make a long story short, we must have played another two hours and had a jolly old time. I know we attracted a bit of passing trade as people told us so later and were asking what our band name was etc. (we have never had one in all these years although Paul is currently in Shamrock Street and I played for years with the Northern Celts until the travelling made it impossible) and so everyone was happy. Will was getting a few £££ over the bar, we were having a ball and getting a few pints for our trouble and the punters seemed to enjoy it from their reaction and kind applause and the fact that they didn’t just walk out. What’s not to like?

I suppose we probably finished about 2100 and again I was feeling the pace so off for yet another early bed. This really was getting ridiculous.

Last day of Folk Week in the next post so stay tuned and spread the word.