Bishy Bashy Bloggy

A new blog-please redirect

Hello! I’ve now got a new blog with all my seaside tales. Please visit www.beebeebythesea.wordpress.com.

Thank you!

There’s something about Margate

I’ve had 8 weeks of non-stop visitors.

Boarded up shops, run down arcade, scaffolded Dreamland amusement park, the constant need to say “mind the poo”… they didn’t even blink an eyelid.

And that’s because there truly is something about this wonderful coastal town. Let me take you on a little tour to show you…

We arrive at the station, the huge, beautiful Victorian station with original features. Close your eyes and just imagine the hoards of holidaymakers, clothed head to toe ready for their ‘medicinal’ day sea bathing, paddling and relaxing. Glance to your left, just next to the cafe and you’ll see a photographic history of the station. 

As soon as you exit, deep breath and smell in the fresh salty sea air (from this distance you can’t smell the seaweed, hoorah), shoulder back you’re on coastal time now. Stroll with me along the seafront look, to your right - check out the arcades that take you back to days gone by get your coppers ready for later see how many more you can win.

Look ahead at the gorgeous clock tower, hear it chime as it stands proudly looking over its town and people, like a parent overseeing its brood.

99 with a flake? As we take our shoes off and feel the golden grains of sand lace our toes. Little paddle in the clear waters, bit of shell searching and crab finding, then back to our stroll. Take a look at the lampposts if you will, they’re the same as the ones along the south bank in London and you won’t find ones like it apart from here and there.

Hunkdory? Sure is, look the shop goes right through to the other side - sticks of rock for our pockets and a few kitsch curiosities to peruse. Now we’re at the parade. Look up, cor what lovely interesting architecture above Rokka and Cafe G’s. Spot the old Midland Bank sign, with the cash deposit box on the side, look a little to the side to see an oldy worldy ale and cider house, if you sup inside you’ll see they still use an old till with the numbers popping up. And sit by the barrel table and look out the biggest sash window in the world. Peckish? Let’s try the oyster flavour Kent crisps - nom nom.

Kiss me quick! No not me, candy floss, giant dummy, sticks of rock galore. Let’s have a little boogie to the fantastic 50s music resonating from the big speaker outside. 

Pete’s fish factory just £2.95 for cod and chips and in a cardboard box that we can keep - go on then. Glance up, the Grand ole Duke of York stayed there, overlooking the bay - see Reculver Towers in the distance with sun rays beaming down over it.

Hopstep to the Old Town, careful of the cobbled streets and keep your eyes peeled for all the galleries and studios - Pie Factory, Margate Gallery, to start us off. Time for tea and a naughty nibble at The Cupcake Cafe. Salt beef sandwich atThe Greedy Cow deli. Then crafty goodness at Blackbird, The Gate… oh you like sci-fi let’s find us some rare comics. Margate is the capital of revived retro chic -Madam Popoff, Ahoy, the pop-up shop - too many to mention and what’s this a Pilgrims Hospice Frocks n Stock vintage shop? Fantabulous. Not keen on Brit-tastic clobber, let’s look at this gorgeous Chinese shop Qing - exquisite! “I want all of it!”. Don’t we all…

Done with shopping, come on then let’s have ourselves a little bit of contemporary culture, international style at the Turner - stunning views, stunning spaces, stunning art. Need to calm down with a saunter along the Harbour Arm - more culinary goodness at BeBeached.

Let’s now see some sea… along towards Cliftonville, just imagine what the Lido looked like - 1300 seat theatre, bathers lining the walls, music escaping from every seam and now Moonbow Jakes - what an inventive idea for the community to enjoy. Stand still for sea watching, and I hear far out on the sandbanks there are seals. And the windfarm looks pretty impressive too. We can try sailing sometime at the Margate Yacht Club, they do tasters often. 

We’re getting used to the grand buildings now, can just see why everyone wanted to holiday here and why they’re starting to flood back. 

Getting a bit tired. Fancy another cuppa. The Walpole Bay Hotel looks inviting and intriguing. What a delightful owner, so bubbly and eager to show us round, oh yes let’s travel up to the living museum in the original lift, just room for the two of us, breathe in. Let’s not spoil the surprise, this weirdly wonderful ode to days gone by needs to be experienced not relayed. But let’s share the delicious afternoon tea - still-warm scones with a dollop of cream, two of jam, served with traditional, engraved silverware. Gaze at the artist adorned napery - Tracey Emin, Martin Parr, Ellen Harvey… oh and signed books and letters from our Trace and a whole wall of Eminorabilia down below by the ballroom (yes a ballroom!). Time stands still. But we must move on.

We’ve got a taste for the weirdly wonderful now - on to the freakily splendid Shell Grotto, search for the c19 graffiti amongst the plethora of phallic pagan symbols, oh and a turtle (!), and a 1939 seance, the idea of an underground shell worshipping sect blowing our imaginations. Purchase a little memento - old Margate postcard and a lion made out of shells. Great.

Watch your step and “mind the poo!”. Phew, now off to RG Scott’s for some treasure hunting. 5 zillion hours later, turn right to Northdown Road - fantastic no chain shops all independents. And what’s this, Batchelors tea shop. Oh gosh oh my, no we can’t we’re still stuffed from the scones, we can’t can we? Course we can, it’s must-eat-all-we-can-in-one-day-in-Margate. That waitress says she’s been working here since the 70s, that’s like 40 odd years! Such a lovely lady. 

Let’s look a little further up, oh can you see that original 50s ice cream parlour? All closed now but it still has the original fittings and Venetian picture in the background. Just needs a little TLC and Bob’s your Monkhouse. 

We didn’t make it to the somewhat dreary High Street (unlike many others in England), but then we didn’t need to, our day was filled with wonderful discoveries and eateries wasn’t it? But you said you’re coming back soon - there’s something about Margate that makes you want to return here

“You’re so lucky having this on your doorstep”.

Yes, yes we are. 

That’s how lucky I feel!

Share your love for all things Margit at www.flickr.com/groups/lovemargate

A Bish, A Bash and A Bosh!

Who would’ve thought turning 29 was going to be such a boosh event! Bish’s Beach Party went off with a bang - me banging around in a panic in the week leading up to and on the morning of said event. Margate Lido was my place of choice - let’s just say I was going for shabby seaside chic (there’s nowt better eh?) - nothing a bit of homemade paper bunting wouldn’t pretty up.

I had bought volleyball, buckets and spaces, a giant beach ball, velcro catch (which I later learnt was called ‘scatch’ though this sounds a little rude to me), sticks of rock for all party attendees, a huge amount of food etc etc, and had promoted the event furiously on Facebook (what other way is there to communicate these days?).

So all was fine, the sun was er attempting to shine, there was a little bit of cloud, I just needed that wind breaker from my friend, more ice from Morrisons and to cook all the food, in one hour.

Ok, I was struggling. After singing my heart out to Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive at the Wig and Pen’s delightful karaoke-off with The Bull’s Head in Margate Old Town the night before (don’t even ask and this was whilst sober), the realisation of what organising a party entailed suddenly hit me like a seagull shitting on my head.

No fear! Everything was going to be fine, so me and a very lovely friend trekked all the stuff down to the Lido, chanting “It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine” for the whole 200 metres. We rocked up, and so it would seem had 5 tonnes of stinking seaweed, flies and broken glass. “It’ll be fine”. So we spent an hour raking the seaweed away with the children’s rakes and spades that came with the buckets…

Then the volleyball went up, after several attempts - hoorah! Party food was out, blankets down… ice cooling the drinks… people were starting to arrive, general chitter natter taking place. “It’ll be fine”…
Then it rained… And rained… Wait, it’s clearing.  Sorry, no, no it’s not clearing it’s getting heavier… Let’s stick around and see the rain through, it’ll clear…

Once the pizza had it’s own swimming pool, our trousers were sticking to our legs, the beach ball was now a sandy glitter ball, and the party goers were all huddled under one golf umbrella, and the tide was creeping up on us “IT ISN’T FINE”. Bish Beach Party aborted! *Sad face* all the way home, with twenty people trapsing behind me. Up 6 flights of stairs to Bish Towers. Quick manouver of furniture, soggy food on plates, music on, drink in everyone’s hand… and relax, let the fun times roll.

No, let the toilet break! Oh jeepers, and this was meant to be the glorious last birthday of my twenties. So there was only one solution… WINE!

I’m told the rest of the night was a hoot, with many of my lovely chums saying they had a great time. I can only assume this means I did something incredibly embarrasing which they’ve yet to tell me.

Long live turning 29, lucky as it’s a quiet night in with a DVD for my 30th!

“I Wish I could see My Little Willy” - a saucy seaside Sunday afternoon

After a good few weekends away and a trip to Glasgow (beautiful city) I’ve had a delightful weekend in (mostly) sunny Margit.

Spent a delicious time making sandcastles on the beach with little seaside lovers, never have I seen such delight at sand and sea! Once the troops and cloudy sky had left, I meandered down to the Old Town, already tempted to find out what “I Wish I could see My Little Willy” was all about. Not only is this the BEST exhibition title ever, with a subtitle ‘British saucy seaside postcards’ no discerning art lover could miss seeing it, surely?! (go now before it closes on 2 August - Pie Factory Studios, Broad St Margate www.piefactorymargate.co.uk)

I walked in and straight away a big smile spread across my sleepy Sunday face. It’s not often that you smile at an exhibition (usually I come out and it takes at least an hour to de-contort my “studious/intelligent/all knowing/critical face”, let alone giggle. Yet giggle I did, and aplenty. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if I wasn’t by myself, laughing at the titillating-ticious *new word* pics.

Here’s a tit-tle taster of what you can see, and the giggles in store…

And here are some great comments from visitors to the exhibition…

And a sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with…

I know, I know, it’s crude and childish. But it’s great fun! And that’s exactly what an exhibition should be, as much as art is serious, thought-provoking, explanatory etc etc. There’s something so wonderful about just going to see some funny postcards, where you can choose to ‘agree’ or ‘disagree’ as to whether Margate’s magistrates court found them too ‘mucky’ or Ramsgate’s too ‘rude’ for public consumption (many were displayed unashamedly in shop windows). It turns out thousands were pulped after some humourless ex-judge found them too offensive, leading to an Anti-Obscenity law in 1954.

Following a fortnight of quite frankly disgusting, shameful behaviour demonstrated by News International’s phone hacking scandal and all those entwined in its gross actions that go right to the core of British stability, this all seems a bit lame. Yet in 1950s Margate it was a big deal (not quite as big as the ladies’ busoms in the postcards however but big nonetheless). But I love it and I love the fact that you can see this kind of exhibition in Margate. Sauntering around on a Sunday, you never know what you might find in our beloved seaside town. And on this particular Sunday, I found a hugely entertaining, laugh-out-loud exhibition.

I urge you all to enjoy it for yourselves at Pie Factory Gallery, Broad Street Margate www.piefactorymargate.co.uk

What goes around comes back home

An impromtu chat, I realised last Friday eve, has the power to stir thoughts and make connections that you never would have got to by yourself. That’s the beauty of random chitter natter. It’s also the beauty of lonely souls seeking the comfort of a listening ear.

So the tale begins with an agitated elderly lady who felt wronged because the order of the eve wasn’t as she’d imagined. This had followed a particularly tiring week when all my chum and I were keen to do was skip off into the Margit sunset for a bottle of wine, or two, forgetting our woes and hopstepping ourselves to chirpier times.

But we were drawn towards the lady by the magnetic pull of not wishing her to be left alone mumbling into her chardonnay, feeling like her occasional trip out had been a waste. The conversation swiftly took a turn to the bigger picture however, and the not-so-uncommon issues of the local area; “What was the point of big ventures such as TC?” Well, I’m pretty sure I saw a can in the corner of the room with a worm popping his head out to check the coast (excuse the pun) was clear for him and his mates to squirm out.

As my heart sighed and I began to reel off like any dedicated marketer would, the many positives of the new gallery and statistics of its impact on Margate businesses already, in the back of my tired mind all I could think of was “what does this mean to you Pat” (we were on first name terms by this point).

And for the first time for a while, I asked myself “what does this mean to me?” Remove myself from the equation of the project, what impact has and will it have on me as a resident, a (late) twenty-something, a future mother even?

And the answer? When people question why build a gallery, I try to imagine what would be there in its place - a hotel, a leisure centre, a supermarket, nothing? And what I always come back to is what in its truest essence art is - inspiration, hope, change. That’s what art brings, that’s what a gallery brings.

I was born and bred in East Kent, first I lived in Wingham then in Herne Bay. When I was 14 we moved to Berkshire. And at that time I could’t wait. Already, barely just a teenager, I knew my future was limited. There wasn’t much to do or see, there weren’t alot of jobs, no cool shops like Katie’s sister from school used to go to in London (everything that mattered when I was an adolescent - she got Patrick Cox shoes with an Eiffel tower in the stilletto heel, every 14 year old’s dream!).

I lived the rest of my teens and most of my twenties never wanting to return. Then TC came along. It seems easy for me, connected to the gallery, to say positive things about it, but what struck me on Friday eve was that ‘coming home’ was one of the most wonderful decisions I’ve ever made, but not for the reasons I anticipated. I’ve reconnected with my past in a way I never thought or wanted to be possible. I spent many a summer holiday with my £10 wristband riding all day at Dreamland and on Margate beach but never once did I think anymore of the town. Now I look forward to getting back to “mind the poo” Margit after any time away, even just a day. I care about the community, for the first time in my adult life I actually feel like I’m part of a community. Change matters.

So in answer to the question that our dear elderly friend asked, for me the gallery is so much more than a gallery, it offers inspiration. And it’s that inspiration - finding something in the middle of where perhaps you think there is nothing - that opens your mind, however slight, to another world - the world of possibility. The children of Margate today, it’s their futures that have possibility.

It’s all very romantic of me but the pleasure of coming home, is all mine.

A brief pause and r-e-wind… White Elephant or White Knight?

Well hello, and let’s catch up.

So it’s been a few months, what can I say, coastal gal gets a wee bit busy. But not just idling the days picking washed up ceramics out the sand. I’ve been watching Margate awaken from its 20 year slumber and start the transformation into the next best thing in England! Don’t believe me? Well who would’ve thought before 16 April that Turner Contemporary would attract over 130,000 visitors in the first two months of opening? Ya-ha!

Recently, I’ve caught sight of this rather hilarious ad by Clarks…

Margate is my Milan? Well, it soon could be. I love all things Italian having lived out there for a bit so quite shamelessly I like to think Margate is my equivalent of Venice - water, run down buildings, art… hmmm all we need is some fine looking men eh?! Anyway (stay focussed B), Margate or Margit as I like to fondly call it, is growing, changing, uplifting.

But the question on everyone’s lips (hold on, I can hear the town crier bellowing in the backgound) - is the gallery a White Elephant or a White Knight? Well, I’m somewhat biased of course (if you’re unaware of my connections then it won’t take you too long to find out. And I couldn’t continue this blog without mentioning TC’s impact at least once, so please forgive me) but I’m also a Margate resident, and on that basis I will speak forth…

White Elephant - it’s a white building granted (white opaque glass designed by Sir David Chipperfield that is) but unlike a leisure centre, as some have suggested it should have been, the gallery has and will continue to attract people from outside of Margate itself, outside of Kent and even outside of the UK. It’s also got a rolling programme of temporary exhibitions. No permanent collection? No, but how exciting is it that every few months you can see a host of amazing new artworks, all curated in thought-provoking ways, that a permanent collection would not give you access to, and all with a link to JMW Turner (each time you get to see different works by Turner, some well known some not often seen, keeping it fresh and unique). Art to change an area? Look at St Ives, what would have become of that forgotten seaside village without Tate, same goes for the southbank pre-Tate Modern (no homage to Tate intended).

White Knight - already shops are filling, businesses have welcomed their best trade ever, some in their 50 year history, and people are sauntering through the streets - Margate is a destination, not a go-through town where you keep you eyes shut till you’re out the other side.

That’s a really simple deconstruction, far too simple I know, so here it is…. the BUT…

The gallery isn’t ever going to be the change, it’s a big part, but it takes everyone, what I call the ‘collective spirit’. And it’s already there, in its many different forms - residents, community groups, traders, outreach projects, schools, councillors. But like many things in life, it takes belief, hard work and team work. Tackling the town’s deprivation will undoubtedly take time, but it can happen. Margate is a place, a place full of people and fantastic history. So hoorah to Margatians and Thanetians! TC is just the start of an exciting journey, a lot of time went into the planning and now we can set sail to Margate’s future - as a greater place to live, visit, enjoy art, browse fantastic independent shops and succumb to delicious eateries. It’ll never be Milan, but we wouldn’t want it to be!

Oh I do like to be beside the seaside…

Especially on a Sunday.

There’s something superdiciously spectacular about waking up on a Sunday, having the whole day to do just as you please and then sauntering out for a stroll along a sandy beach. Not many people can say that they have the beach on their doorstep. But I do, and by golly it’s good!

There’s something so calming, hypnotic and soothing about water. And when you get to enjoy the sounds of the waves lapping, dodging the encroaching tide and watching the sun edge towards setting whilst nattering with your chum, it couldn’t get better.

I grew up by the sea not too far from Margate and now I’ve ‘come home’ it’s reminded me of how fantastic it was, whiling away my teeenage angst (Alanis-Morrisette-Jagged-Little-Pill-style) on the pebbles of Hampton beach, seething over my embarassing parents, wondering who would be at ‘Heat’ under 18s night at the King’s Hall in Herne Bay and giggling every time I had to cycle through the nudist beach on my bike ride to Whitstable with my Paps.

Thanet District Council have been re-energising local Margatians’ memories and recollections of their youth and with Turner Contemporary’s second exhibition Nothing in the World But Youth centred around the theme of adolescence, it was a wonderful reminder today of how cool it was to spend my formative years coast-side. And also that once a water baby, always a water baby.

I’m beginning to think, with Sundays like this, that I may be sticking around this coast for a while…