We were only a few streets into our “getting acquainted with Whitstable” stroll when we came upon a most curious sight. A tiny passageway on our route to the beach called… Squeeze Gut Alley.
On consulting our town guide, we learned that this narrow cut-through owes its name to a 19th century “portly policeman” and the local pranksters who regularly evaded him through it. An early example of fat shaming, if you will.
Two hours later, when our walk had led us to the Old Neptune pub and a gigantic fish and chip supper, we were starting to think that Whitstable could easily have a ballooning effect on anyone’s waistline.
This charming Kent seaside town is stuffed with calorific temptations, from gelaterias, cafes and bakeries to shorefront restaurants serving up Whitstable’s world-famous oysters.
For us, though, it was hard to beat the aforementioned Neptune, which isn’t a pub by the beach, it’s a pub literally on the beach, with picnic tables planted upon the pebbles. With westerly views stretching for miles, it’s the perfect spot for sunset and scampi.
A couple of minutes’ walk along the sea path, you’ll find a blue plaque on the home where Peter Cushing lived for 35 years.
My family and I had our own holiday rental a few streets away, and I’m pleased to report it was anything but a house of horror. Overlooking a green and a playground, Barbara’s Beach House had four bedrooms, a bright open living space, and a lovely garden with shady spots for retreating from the heatwave.
Its wide driveway was a boon for me as the designated holiday driver for my husband, two kids and my parents, all fitting into a rented seven-seater beyond my usual parallel parking comfort zone.
Thankfully, our Audi SQ7 had prang-proof parking assistance which everyone appreciated, except my dad who thrives on dispensing manoeuvring advice to his spatially-challenged daughter.
My parents had compiled a wish-list of destinations for our week away, starting with nearby Canterbury. Naturally, the cathedral, with its thrilling history of murder and martyrdom, was our number-one must-see, and it was impossible not to feel overawed by its scale and magnificence.
I lit a candle in the nave and sent up a prayer… of silent apology for not noticing that my 12-year-old Stranger Things fanatic had chosen this day to wear her Hellfire Club T-shirt. Sorry, Archbishop (adult £15.50/child free with adult, canterbury-cathedral.org ).
Keeping an eye out for lightning bolts, we moved on to the neighbouring Roman Museum. Most of Canterbury’s Roman origins remain buried deep under the city, but bomb damage during the Second World War revealed a tantalising glimpse of what lies beneath.
This excellent museum is located on the site of what archaeologists discovered was once a large Roman townhouse with all the well-to-do features, from a mosaic corridor to underfloor heating. The meaningful glance I shot at my husband on spotting the latter seemed to go unnoticed (adult £9.60/child £4.85, canterburymuseums.co.uk ).
The next day we switched from the great indoors to the great outdoors, at Port Lympne Safari Park. This is a vast “savannah” in the middle of Kent, which acts as a sanctuary for endangered animals from gorillas to big cats and rhinos, a breeding reserve and a staging post for rewilding.
For something truly unforgettable, I’d recommend booking a safari tour which includes a chance to feed the park’s friendly giraffes. We were given branches and instructions to hold on tightly; advice that made sense the instant an enormous, muscular tongue shot down, wrapped around its lunch and nearly lifted us off our feet.
There was an equally enthusiastic reception for us at the Primate Experience, where Port Lympne’s head keeper, Jamie, introduced us to his furry friends and helped us hand-feed them peanuts.
Their stories wouldn’t sound out of place in a TV soap, not least the poor rejected gibbon who was set upon by his sons at the behest of his estranged “wife” but has now found new love with – cue EastEnders drums – his ex’s sister. There is a serious side to all this monkey business though, with Port Lympne’s long-running programme to release these incredible creatures back where they belong (adult £29/child £26, aspinallfoundation.org/port-lympne )
The kids had another chance to go wild over at Margate’s Dreamland. The amusement park is packed with fantastic old-fashioned fun, including a penny arcade, roller disco rink and retro rides including the UK’s oldest roller coaster.
It goes by the quaint-sounding name of The Scenic Railway but don’t be fooled by this old girl: by the time she’s whipped you round her dips, you may have seen more of the inside of your eyelids than Margate (free entry, pay per ride, dreamland.co.uk ).
Our final port of call took us back inland, to Leeds Castle. This moat-encircled beauty is magical to look at, although there wasn’t a fairy-tale ending for its most famous occupant, Catherine of Aragon. We got to “meet” her, thanks to a new immersive Queens With Means experience which lets you see the castle through her eyes and words.
Sure, Henry VIII may have moved on to five other wives, but the virtual Catherine insisted he clearly still held a flame for her, as he’d never erased the symbols of love he’d had carved into the fireplaces for her.
Oh, Cat. Move on, he’s not worth it.
The castle now is styled up in honour of its 1930s heyday, when its last occupant, socialite Lady Baillie, hosted louche weekends of gambling and partying for her rich and famous pals. With hosiery, beauty products and glasses strewn around the place, my dad remarked upon the likeness to my teenage bedroom.
Leeds Castle is a place to lose yourself, figuratively and literally. My parents and I ventured into its maze, which is fiendishly hard to crack. Be warned, there’s no phone signal to download a map. (Yep, I tried.)
We ended up in a line of equally flummoxed folk, taking directions from a helpful chap who’d somehow found the tower in the middle.
Getting out is much simpler, as there’s a “secret” grotto and escape tunnel directly beneath its centre. With spooky music and a red-eyed demonic head awaiting you, it’s creepy but at least the maze designer kept the exit passageway helpfully wide. So even if you have eaten like a portly PC all week, there’s no chance of being stuck down there (adult £26.36/child £23.64, leeds-castle.com ).
To sum up our week, I’d say there really is something for all generations in and around Whitstable. Could you end up bored here? Fat chance.
Get more information: For accommodation and tourism ideas see visitkent.co.uk/destinations/canterbury-herne-bay-and-whitstable.
