The Train
A packed train, hot air and the wisp of illness in my throat. I could feel the pressure of bodies in the carriage, the workers behind me, the mother to my right and the children dangling from a bar above me. The irony of a dog called ‘Cupcake’ biting at a bottle between my feet. I felt suffocated, my head hot and my nerves awry.
If only I hadn’t picked that day of all days, my experience of Herne Bay might have steered positive. However, the build-up hadn’t helped my view of the place. A sleepless night prior, I didn’t want to go that day – yet I still decided to drag my feet to the far station, hungry, nervous, pessimistic. I had a feeling I wouldn’t find anything there, but I had to try anyway. At least I didn’t go there alone.
The Beach
Rocks, sand, kids, noise, gulls, wind. Nothing I could stand, my head was inflamed with simple experiences. I remember sitting on the beach, digging beneath the rocks, scared to touch their dusty surfaces; though through my discomfort I found small shells and gleams of quartz. Beside us were happy families, swooping gulls, small gusts of thick wind and the pollution of noise fraying from the arcade. The stories of childhood are just propaganda, you hear sweet tales of the sunny pier and the fun of the beach, but it’s not true for all.
On our way to the beach I had expressed my interest in the arcade. I love playing arcade games, throwing balls at the little clowns, shooting hoops and even air hockey. But these games were guarded by crowds packed like sardines and bothered people; even approaching the area I felt the glares of a million fish. The noise vibrated through my feet, chattering crowds and the dings of spewing tickets. To take my mind off the rising tension I skipped stones in the air, aiming for each stone thrown prior.
Before we sat down we went to get ice cream. I approached the crowded bar of cold delights, though to get there I had to be barged by people who were experiencing their first day on earth. Speaking to the worker was difficult; she gave me my ice cream and walked off… what would you do at that point? Personally, I stood there awkwardly, waiting for her to return so I could pay, but a lot of people may not have that patience.
The Pier
We headed to the pier after, looking to escape the resonant taint (or I may go with corruption). As we walked up it I quickly noticed the large gaps in the floor, thick slits showing the murky waters below. I’m not scared of heights, but that didn’t stop my mind from showing me everything that could go wrong; whether it’s dropping my phone, my rings or headphones… The rows of independent stalls made me happy. From my experience in Herne Bay I didn’t see a single McDonald’s or KFC, but I did find a lovely pizza stall called ‘Mario’s pizza’. It was a quaint little area, small tables in front of these small businesses who all seemed to know each other and get along like one large family. As much as I disliked the atmosphere, I could appreciate the togetherness, though that was all that I felt redeemed it.
I liked looking out over the falling tide; at the end of the pier it was quiet. Just us and the splashing waves, a welcome white noise. It was peaceful, a getaway from a turbulent experience. My things were tight in my pockets, and I felt content.
Then came the walk back to the station. We went down the back streets, avoiding the mass of people. The path was uneven; I had to avoid every crack in the pavement, kicking every stone in my path as my mind urged me to. Throughout the day I had been walking in a certain order, almost every path by the beach was made of brick, making it easy for me to keep a flow of walking as I could step in each square, avoiding every parting between the bricks. Though on the walk back there was no order to follow, and it felt awkward switching from one rhythm to another.
The train back felt okay, it was emptier and quieter. I was able to focus on my friend and the passing trees.
Herne Bay has been described as a failed seaside resort., If I were any other person, I would question this – however, as a neurodivergent person, it couldn’t seem more true.
Suggested reading
Bundock, Mike. Herne Bay 1830 – 1880 a failed seaside resort? https://www.hbhrs.org/files/1047-1-1.pdf
Seabrook, David. All The Devils Are Here. London: Granta, 2018. First published 2002.