Ah Kent!
My sister's first husband came from Chatham and I was initiated into the love of Kent Cricket Club as a whippersnapper. Of course, everyone knew Colin Cowdrey, Derek Underwood and Alan Knott - who could forget Deadly Derek rolling over the Aussies at The Oval in 1968 (Don't answer that - you lot couldn't even remember!).
Asif Iqbal, Chris 'the Rock' Tavare, Alan Ealham - Kent were a pretty good side by the 70s and people were keen to play cricket, lovely cricket - no huddling around PCs, games machines or pawing through clothes on a Sunday...we were out there doing it!
I like the guard's stamp so much, I'm copying topcat Dave's shot!
Anyway, we paid homage to the HS1 (a bit crowded with eight bikes in Coach One) an Aussie touring couple, another couple going to Calais - thence Bordeaux, and us. Men of Kent for the day. Our reservation cards said: Flying Dodo, redflightuk, topcat1 and Aperitif - ordinary men on special business.
Arriving at the International of Ashford, we met DaveP (local knowledge man) and Lukesdad/Mark, along with Pippa, User10571, Mistral/Mick, and the Sarf London Massive who had started early and cycled. Clive was looking like Wee Willie Winkie in lycra by now - early mornings and Clive are love hate affairs methinks.
Ashford International welcomes you. Dellzeqqian Delights abound!
True to Adam's word - it was a gentle ride. The skies were big and changeable. Local Dave said that the grey stuff might move around a bit but it was tied by rope not too far away. During the day we kept seeing blue and billowy followed by moody - adding to the overall feel of the ride. I loved it because of the desolation, the holidaymaking and the immense use of concrete. Whether passing through by train to Ashford, viewing the sea wall at Dymchurch, or spotting the outward vastness of Dungeness. I love all that stuff. Warm and breezy throughout, but not a day where we were going to be toasted, and still no hills. ('Come on Adam - what's going on - this is very unlike you...').
The Kentish fanbase were expecting our mate Stu to make an appearance but alas - he was elsewhere!
In fact, it was another weekend of headbanging for our mate Stu as he was bopping to Rammstein on Saturday night and Iron Maiden on Sunday. (Info supplied by our local agent, redflight, who is a bit of a dark horse himself - unlike his horse 'Red' who looks a bit chestnutty in colour...)
In summary, CycleChat rides are full of kids who never grow up - lovely!
Lunch without changing gear, a gentleman publican, and only the tiniest tinge of Royston Vasey - it felt like Christmas actually, with a crooner broadcasting from the loudspeakers in the bar. Not sure what was being sung but it sounded appropriately like 'I'm Dreaming of a White Cliff Mass...' - maybe it was a local radio station?
Local art was for sale in the pub.
Greatstone-on-Sea - a mix of kempt and unkempt greeted us
A short stay, anyone?
and User10571 explained about the concrete 'sound mirrors' located just back from the seafront, to capture the sound of approaching aircraft etc...we didn't see them but I would like to sometime. As usual, I know nothing about the country I have lived in for 'long enough'. DaveP also pointed out the place that was the fuel pumping point for the Pipe Line Under The Ocean - 'PLUTO' - that was to support the Allied troop invasion after D Day.
Check this - it's amazing what we, as people get up to.
Dungeness is cool. I like it, and the mix of barren, decay and trendy amused me - all at a continued gentle pace. Ice creams were eaten and tourists and trippers shouted from the top of the lighthouse and dogs tested each other out , playing tag on the shingle.
Derek Jarman's bungalow - famous in history for its 'nuclear' garden...
Full of texture and interest - a garden of England in the garden of England.
Returning to Ashford, Adam spotted a big white building on a hill which he is now researching to report back what it is! And we saw a 'monolith' in the distance, which on arriving, was found to be made out of lots of little squares of stone in favour of a local baronet who was a helpful sort and it was called something which I have forgotten...umm.
Cosway Monument.
And home we went.
Clive, with his fully licenced minder, Big Martin, Clive giggling uncontrollably after finding out his mileometer has more than two digits!
Clive got his ton, Big Martin did the return and achieved his sponsorship goal, and today is another day! Thanks for your company all - it was a welcome change to get home in 'daylight', 'fresh' having cycled, although I did get a spear like piece of steel through my rear tyre on the way up a hill in Hampstead - I seem to get one a week these days, what have I done wrong to deserve this? (Don't answer that either!

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