Spring in Whitstable

Whitstable is my favourite place in the whole world. In 2003, my grandparents moved to this little seaside town in Kent and I'd spend my school holidays with them. They were such happy times. As there's not a whole lot for a teenage girl to do there, I always found it so relaxing. No friend drama to worry about. No keeping up pretences. No stress. Just relaxing with my grandparents- reading, drawing, visiting the beach. Bliss! After a few years they moved back to our hometown so they could be closer to the family (and didn't have a huge garden to tend for!) and I've only been back once since, when Rich and I spent my 21st birthday there. We'd intended to return for my birthday this year but unexpectedly ended up there earlier this week.

On Monday, we jumped in the car and drove down to Margate to visit Dreamland. Unfortunately, when we got there, we found that it had been closed due to the weekend storms. Of course it was a beautiful, clear day but it's better to be safe than sorry! As we'd travelled a long way, we didn't want to turn around and go straight home. Rich suggested we head to Whitstable instead as we'd passed it on the way. What a great suggestion that was!

After getting disproportionately stressed trying to find somewhere to park (I wanted to use the car park my grandad favoured, because I get sentimental about banal things like that, but it was closed) and then almost snapping off a part of my bumper going over a sleeping policeman too quickly, we headed straight to the Tudor Tea Rooms in Harbour Street.
Whenever I visited my grandparents (there's going to be a lot of this, just to warn you!), we'd spend one day in Canterbury and one day in a different local town but aside from those two days, every morning would be spent in the town centre. Only for an hour or two to pick up some meat for dinner, or a gardening fork, or some fabric for my grandma, but it was an unshakeable daily routine. Before heading home, we'd pop into the Tudor Tea Rooms for a drink and a scone. It's cute because this was their routine for my entire living memory. Wherever they were living, wherever they were visiting, they'd pop into a coffee shop or cafe every morning at 11.
We then headed to Sugarboy- a gorgeously old-fashioned sweet shop- where my grandad would buy us one bag of sweets each day. I usually chose cola Millions or aniseed balls but as neither were available this time, I settled on fizzy cola bottles instead. Then, striped paper bag in hand, we walked up Harbour Street towards the harbour.
Let me tell you, there is no smell in the world greater than that of Whitstable Harbour! It's particularly fishy but not like your bog-standard Tesco fish counter. Instead, it's all mixed up with the salt air and the seaweed and the famous Whitstable oysters. Not to mention that it's absolutely adorable! A teeny-tiny harbour with the same boats that have been there for years. I was ecstatic to see Oly Ray still bobbing along as she was my grandad's favourite.
From the harbour, we walked along the beach where both my grandad's ashes are scattered. It was an absolutely beautiful day, although very breezy, and it felt lovely to be so near my grandad. I miss him dearly but I really felt close to him while I was on the beach. 
By now, the sun was starting to lower and we had a long drive home, so we headed back to the car. It was a wonderful, if unexpected, couple of hours and I can't wait to return in the summer!
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