straight on all the way from herne bay to peckham to vauxhall

a day of driving cars and driving people mad. obsess my way around canterbury cathedral. only god knows why (and maybe the dancer or the one who is in love, if they think hard). dipping toes in the cold waters of dover, watched by the still silent white cliffs. mess around in deal, unimpressed with puny castle. cold beer in herne bay. purple blood over the whitstable horizon and plenty of oyster-like behaviour. peppered with jokes only we can laugh at. and an incredibly subtle bitterness hanging over all of it, like the muddy mist we could see, far far away at sea.