Seasalter Beach

A new walk tonight - well new to me anyway. Dad gets home from work at a sensible hour, and there is, as Mum says "a grand stretch in the evenings" now, so we're loaded into the car and taken to Seasalter Beach, out beyond Graveney, just west of Whitstable. The Old Sportsman pub, a few beach-huts, the high concrete sea wall, tide way out, bait diggers (lugworm?) and a million new smells to chase around and sniff at


It's a gorgeous dry balmy breezy evening, with no trace of the forecast rain. One or two people are also walking dogs - we meet two very muddy Springers. The beach, westward from the pub is a narrow strip of sand and broken up sea shells, only about 20m wide, but below that miles and miles of goo-ey tidal mud. Not a good thing to romp across when you have legs only a few inches long, unless you want to look like you're wearing majorette boots


It's nice to hear the calls of the wading birds - we see curlews, godwits and some kind of tiny ones - knot? sanderling? we're not very good on waders. We walk out for about half an hour and back for half an hour. Very pleasant indeed. The path from the pub out to the start of the beach is a bit muddy, so we sneak back to the car along the beach hut bit, which is signed "Private Beach" as there's no-one about


Busted, by the way for crimes against hair dryers. The cable was mysteriously chewed right near the plug and right near the dryer itself. My name was in the frame for some reason.... moi? Mum doesn't use it very often, so I think I may have done it a while back when I was a new pup..... maybe..... officer. Anyway, Mum is wearing a frown and the hair dryer is in the wheelie-bin


Deefs