CANTII BUY ME LOVE

There’s no doubt, it’s a spooky place. It’s long after sunset on a path on the sea wall, between ocean and marshland, and beyond the glow of our front lights there’s someone down on the beach with a head torch. Probably hiding a body, I instantly think. He stands like a weird statue, the light from his head motionless as we pass. To make matters more bizarre, I think I hear intermittent laughter, a soft “chaa haa”, and I’ve no idea where it’s coming from. My ears are mostly filled with the sound of moving air and it’s otherwise a time of quiet contemplation, of digestion of the massive fish and chip dinner we’ve just eaten in Herne Bay, and I’m concentrating on following the rider in front, and avoiding accidentally riding off the sea wall into oblivion.

As the light fades, the smells of the marshes and the sea come into relief. The seven of us have just pedalled downhill across a magical field, toward the silhouetted Reculver