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      • Поездка в Фолкстоун  (графство Кент.  Англия)

        Поездка в Фолкстоун (графство Кент. Англия) Валерия - Эндрю Лебедева 10-04-2019

      • Monday morning, gloomy day and still feeling unrested after a decadent Saturday night. Going into work, central London, the city is buzzing, people are running and you just can’t remember when was the last time you were really alone? Living in a flat share, the house is rarely empty. Working in a co-working space, you always have to be on fleek, smiling, enthusiastic and on the ball.
        Today I feel anything but any of the above, I just want to get away, go to the sea maybe, just rest and be by myself. So, between two emails I start dreaming and planning that next weekend I’ll just go for it. I browse through the web and find it, the combination of sea, art and the best part: I’ve never heard of this place! Booked a B&B, train tickets - I’m all set and excited. Monday is not so dull anymore, that’s it, just par through the week and get some fresh air in Folkestone, Kent.

        Already on the train I feel freed up from all my concerns, I unlock my phone and delete my social media apps. I get my book; the wagon starts to fill up. Its 11am, two young fellas sit and start enjoying some beers “San Miguel”. On the other side a group of South Americans, very cheered they start playing card games and laugh. It is actually so delightful just to sit back and observe people! This feeling of being the spectator and them the actors of a free short play. I love imagining where do they go, guess what stop they will get off and why.
        Arriving at the final destination, on the walls of the station I read in multicolour letters: “Folkestone is an Art school”. I feel satisfied and walk to the B&B only around the corner, the Sunny Lodge. Warm welcome, lovely room, without further delays I walk in the given to me direction; to the town center. It’s an enjoyable feeling to be a tourist, I feel like an explorer walking for the very first time on this pavement, on this street and glance at the new to me faces.

        Stating to feel the hunger, the plan is to walk to the harbour and eat some local seafood. To get there, I walk through the Creative quarter, mainly around the Old High Street. A very steep and cobbled street, studded by numerous art shops, galleries and cafés. Entering the harbour, I see it, the perfect spot is called Chummys. I will eat seven oysters and a fresh crab and prawn salad, and it will cost no more than a tenner. I am definitely not in London anymore!
        The people are also much friendlier, as you would expect, and everybody seem familiar and to know each other. Walking to the pebble beach now, it is a lovely day – it’s sunny. No one, only the sound of the glittering waves and the infinite horizon. Emptiness, I think of nothing, only listening to the waves breaking on the stones and felling the breeze on my face. It is fresh but rather soft and smooth. I gather some warm rocks in my hand and listen to them falling, like a beautiful symphony played by waves and pebbles.

        Continuing my journey, I head down the peer, passing now the strolling locals and tourists like me. On the way I talk to a local fisherman, he describes me this beautiful beach on the other side of the green cliff where the seals like to swim. Francis is fishing every week, he catches Salmon, Cod, Mackerel and Haddock. But fish became less abundant lately. I can’t not thing about global warming and the profanation of the waters. I arrive to the lighthouse with the inscription: “weather is a third to place and time”. Reminds of Ireland, where the weather is definitely a third, or even a first?

        The lighthouse turns to be a champagne bar, so I allow myself to sit for a flute. It is sunny but extremely windy at the end of the peer by the lighthouse. A waiter drops the tray, people rush to help and everybody seem peaceful and entertained. On the way back from the peer Francis is still fishing, we chat and greet. Direction: Sunny Sands, the Folkestone beach.

      • atanor812 11-04-2019 06:11:59

        Поздр с дебютом.
        Хороший отчет. Текст прям хоть в учебник ставь, четко, с толком, с расстановкой, налет романтизьма такоже есть.
        На маяке написан аналог нашего "у природы нет плохой погоды"

        Вустрицы по фунту за штуку - это сильная штука! Посильнее чем Фауст Гете! Да еще и крабы...

        Kraskopult 11-04-2019 07:02:19

        Не по русски.

        atanor812 11-04-2019 08:43:18  в ответ на: Kraskopult [2]

        Устрицы по фунту ! Это ж понятно.

        Kraskopult 11-04-2019 08:48:09  в ответ на: atanor812 [3]

        Вустрицы - это да!

        Член-Совалов 11-04-2019 08:50:53  в ответ на: atanor812 [3]

        мне понравилось выражение "to be on the ball "

        coroner 11-04-2019 08:56:45

        Хороший репортаж.
        Coroner весьма одобряет!
        Всем привет и добра.

        atanor812 11-04-2019 09:02:12  в ответ на: Член-Совалов [5]

        Вообще стиль понравился, такой повествовательный, пошаговый, с наблюдениями и комментариями на тему того что собственно происходит вокруг.
        Sea, Art and the best Part:.. прикольно сказано

        Андрей Лебедев 11-04-2019 09:42:06  в ответ на: atanor812 [7]

        родные языки - французский и русский
        английский был в гимназии (в Париже) но как и всех французов - не очень сильно хороший.
        Овладела в совершенстве за 5 лет учебы в Лондонской школе экономики.  и Говорит без французского акцента что французам - не свойственно

        Простаков Иван 14-04-2019 22:22:57  в ответ на: atanor812 [1]

        Самая вкусная рыба - которую сам поймал или подстрелил. Чтобы без перевалки. Как вариант купить у рыбаков на берегу. Анароттная закуска получится! ))))

        Простаков Иван 14-04-2019 22:27:57  в ответ на: Андрей Лебедев [8]

        А как французы относятся к немцам? Обычные французы?

        Андрей Лебедев 15-04-2019 07:50:35  в ответ на: Простаков Иван [10]

        Патрисия Каас - из Эльзаса.
        Говорит и поёт с сильным НЕМЕЦКИМ акцентом.
        Ну, а так, помнят в Нормандии и Бретани - оккупацию. Все мосты им британская авиация разбомбила через Сену и Луару!

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