Feed the Birds

The first morning we wake up in England is at the tail-end of the recent heatwave on this side of the Atlantic, and it feels stuffy inside.  J and I go out to eat breakfast on a bench overlooking the harbor.  It's cool and overcast now, and it's such a relief after the constant sweating of the past week.  The sound of squawking seagulls interrupts the morning peace.  I look just to my left and point out to J that the seagulls must be hoping for a few droppings as the bins are emptied.

This man's partner walks toward us to empty another bin and stops to shoot the breeze.

"We feed the baby seagulls every morning."

So they're not just hoping for accidental droppings; they're flying in for a breakfast buffet they know to expect.

"Seagulls are smarter than you think.  Sometimes people put bags on the top of the bins to keep them from getting in, and we've seen them go flying straight into them to knock them off the top."

"Sometimes we have to break up fights between the seagulls and the crows."

My mind conjures up a picture of rival gangs in West Side Story, and I'm reminded that every life and every job has something interesting to lighten the load.  It makes me happy that these men spend their mornings feeding the birds while they keep the harbor clean.

Back to the Island

We loaded the car on a sunny September morning, working up a sweat with all the trips up and down stairs making sure we didn't forget anything.  I breathed out a deep sigh when we finally made it out of civilization and green spaces surrounded us again.  I successfully ordered lunch in French on the quickest stop we've ever made.  Day one of vacation is off to a good start.

I love having access to big-city amenities.  I feel happiest with wide open spaces around me.

We drive past places I read about in Rilla of Ingleside.  I was going to write history class, but let's be honest.  Most of the history I remember first came in the form of story.

It's a good thing we gave ourselves plenty of time because we're detained at the UK border.  After waiting a while and K.J. being questioned we are finally allowed to board the boat.  After we pass inspection the officer tells K.J. we raised a red flag because we left the country before our visa expired.  Perhaps they thought we left because we'd done something illegal and were running from the law?  I wasn't really surprised to be stopped.  I've heard of lots of people being stopped at UK Border Patrol, and I don't blame them.  But I'm glad we were allowed through because missing our vacation would have been sad!

I am really surprised you can see the White Cliffs of Dover from Calais, though now that I think about it, I think I might remember something about that from The Three Musketeers.  Even my geography I learned in books.  We laugh because behind us France is bathed in sunshine, while before us, England is clothed in cloud cover.  The wind is fierce, and the kids jump in the air with glee to feel it push them back.  I hover anxiously to keep them safe and from running into people.

It's so thrilling to see the white cliffs up close for the first time.

We feel so giddy to be back on the island, reminding ourselves to drive on the left and feeling surprised that we can read all the signs and make small talk with strangers again.  We order fish and chips and find a place to sit and eat.  I take the picture below and wonder why this place is so unbearably beautiful.

After we eat we drive down to the beach.  Pro tip for ordering take-away fish and chips in England:  Bring your own bottle of ketchup.  You'll want a lot, and it usually costs extra to buy the little packages.

I've never seen a beach covered in black rocks before this.

While reading the sign in the village green I notice something that makes me laugh out loud.

If this sign is real and anywhere near by, I have to see it.  Thanks to Google and my accommodating husband we drive through fields into the middle of nowhere and laugh and wonder about the origins of this sign.

 

I still can't stop laughing.

We drive through the Kentish countryside and a spectacular sunset, pulling over briefly to listen to the call of the sea, and if you're James, throw a few rocks.