Margate

Margate — retro, artsy, and just the right amount of wonderfully quirky.

We strolled along the promenade with wind-whipped hair and ice cream melting down our fingers (because yes, obviously, it was far too cold for it — but it had to be done).

There were vintage shops filled with velvet chairs and strange things I absolutely didn’t need but wanted instantly, and little outdoor cafés serving roasted coffee that warmed both our hands and our souls.

We popped into the Turner Contemporary to “be cultural,” and ended up staring out at the sea longer than we spent with the art — blue-grey, moody, and mesmerising.

The old town charmed us — colourful houses, rainbow beach huts, and the very atmospheric Dreamland (still not entirely sure what to make of that eclectic wonderland, but it was an experience).

Gina’s Bakery in The Old Kent Market was a total standout — and those sausage pies? Unreal. The bath buns (yes, outside Bath!) and the pastries were so good we actually ordered extra to take with us for the train journey back to London. Because Margate never does ordinary, there’s even a restaurant inside a full-sized London bus parked right in the middle of the market. Only in Margate — bold, bonkers, and utterly brilliant.

And of course, we stood forever in line at Peter’s Fish Factory, lured in by the promise of the best fish and chips in town (and honestly, it lived up to every bit of the hype). The portion of chips was so huge it could’ve fed a small village.

We perched ourselves on the harbour steps, tucking in and fending off overly confident seagulls who clearly thought we were dining for them.

Margate was messy, creative, honest, and full of soul. Not polished nor perfect — but real. And somehow, exactly what I needed.