on my horizon : pretty much nothing (hurrah!)

THE other week I was seeking a void: I wished to absorb my eyes in the vision of a vast expanse of 'nothing'. I was attempting to self-medicate. Do some long-distance exercise with my eyesight.

What I didn't realise was how much I was in fact in need of this physical space to awaken my senses, to put back into perspective how easy it is to derive pleasure from the simplest of things: nature. 

Returning from work to the shoreline of Whitstable not only gave my eyes a refreshing break  from my aforementioned daily cityscape, it also renewed in me a real appreciation for the subtle yet breathtaking visuals that the natural world around us can create. In the built environment it can often be hard to find these little joys, they are overlooked  both mentally and physically. When rushing to catch the train who would ever think to pause for a moment, glace up from the street, and perhaps chance upon seeing that beam of setting sunshine reflecting off a top floor window. 

But in Whitstable there was no rushing. No cramming through crowds. No dipping underground. There was simply a two minute walk to the end of the road, and then a beach. Here I encountered a unerring calm. And a placid sea, as smooth as a lake. 

My feeble attempts to capture this scene in photographs will never do the atmospheric landscape justice. And as I already feel a bit self-conscious about the whole 'back-to-mother-nature' vibe of this post I am not even going to begin to try to express the way I felt in response to my new surroundings.

But what I will say is this. As the world is awakening to the fresh air of spring, and summer feels as though it is just within reach, make sure to take a moment to observe wonders unfurling around you. Once you start looking you will be surprised at how many little marvels pop up around you.

salt marsh

MUCH has been reported on the rise of the 'supper club' scene in London. It is not a new phenomenon. And some predict that it may now be on its way out. Prices for these 'at home' dining experiences rarely dip below £25, and at times nudge their way towards and in excess of £100 if an esteemed chef is to be in residence.

Of course these prices may be justified, an intimate yet relaxed dining experience alongside great - and at times exquisite - cooking is a pleasure. One may even say it is a coveted experience when 'hot spot' restaurants are popping up incessantly, with 'no booking' policies leaving queues of customers outside peering in, and large prices for small portions (or 'tapas' as is the term du jour).

So, what is the diner seeking good food with a personal touch to do? If it's true that the supper club is on its way out, then where may it - or we - be headed?? I have a suggestion. Perhaps 'out' is code for 'out of London', and perhaps 'out of London' means further than Zone 2. Maybe even that Zones 3, 4, 5 or even (whisper it) 6 may need to be traversed...?

I think this may be the case. And I am proposing first stop Whitstable. Yes, as in Kent. A characterful seaside town from which I have been commuting to London for the past week. (This commute, by the way, was a delight in comparison to the daily slog I usually take part in.)

Whitstable is famed for its colourful beach huts and native oysters. It's a hodge podge of higgledy piggledy houses nestled amongst narrow passages, with a healthy selection of restaurants, boutiques, galleries - and charity shops - for a centre so small. It is definitely a foodie destination in addition a beach escape. And despite a sufficiently large list of delicious options recommended to me for delectation during my stay, my bank balance by no means allowed for me to indulge to my hearts content.

However. At the end of my road there stood an unassuming establishment, curiously not mentioned on said list. It's name was Salt Marsh. Name, address, and telephone number were all that adorned its facade. And on the late Sunday afternoon of my arrival to my temporary new home it was emitting a warm glow and bustling with business.

According to what I could garner from limited information on the internet, this was a little hub of fresh, hearty and homely fare, cooked by a guy called Tony, to the accompaniment of a record player spinning the sounds of days gone by. There were no menus, and no specific opening times. The portions awaiting us were reported to be large. The prices small. So far, so tempting. Oh, and 'daddy' Salt Marsh - Windy Corner Stores - resided at the other end of my street. 

On the evening of my visit, due to a variety of train induced calamities, it meant that M and I did not cross Salt Marsh's threshold until gone 9pm. Anywhere else in Whitstable this would have spelt disaster for our grumbling stomachs, as early closing of kitchens in Whitstable does not seem to accomodate for late night dining (frustrating for a city girl like me, I must admit). But this welcoming mix of eclectic wooden furniture, old fashioned radios and vintage posters, lit by large candles dripping wax directly onto the tables, was thankfully still happy to embrace us as Tony agreed to stay a little longer and cook.