Low tide. Light breeze. To the north Deal pier waddles seawards towards France, a concrete centipede on rigid legs straddling the falling tide.
The word mystery comes to mind when approaching Seabrook and his work - a fitting word, given the author’s obsession with the local lore and hidden historical disjecta membra of Kent’s coastal towns.
When walking around the city of Canterbury, one quickly notices the amount of representation and references of the city’s rich cultural heritage. Murals are particularly popular, in the first thought to tackle the illegal graffiti, in the second to give a new look to some of the grimmer spots in the city.
Australian poet Laurie Duggan's journal extracts from his time living in Kent
In summer, I ate ice cream on the roof. It was a shop of dreams, I can still smell the combination of books and wood, and I dreamed vividly there when I afternoon-napped in my hammock in a basement cupboard.
There was a mermaid on a scooter outside the station. Gary rubbed his eyes twice, hard, with the back of his fist. ‘Oi Gary!’ she shouted again. ‘Do you wanna ride or not?’
Once a popular seaside resort where Victorians came to take the air, Margate was to suffer the fate of many other seaside towns: limping through the end of the last century with rising unemployment, dilapidated structures, organ music, and absent holiday makers.
Starting University in 2020 was meant to bring freedom, doing the subject I cared most about on campus. The reality for myself and other students this year was somewhat different.