Time and tide

Last time I was in Margate trains took 2½ hours from London, someone else took care of the sand in my hair and wind turbines hadn't been invented. This time we whizzed to the seaside on the Eurostar line in time for a leisurely wander round town as we chatted with old friends, I did not care in the slightest about salt-thickened hair after our swim in the tidal pool, and I was transfixed as the murky khaki-brown heat haze on the horizon metamorphosed into an orange backdrop for the turbines and the distant forts on legs.

Seaside in the sun. Yeah!