Deal and Dealing

So, the terrible thing that was never ending, finally ended today.

There has not been as much jubilation as you might expect. This is in large part down to the fact that it doesn’t seem quite true yet. After months and months of steeling ourselves and spending days locked in what often felt like mortal combat, I think we are in the slight PTSD phase of healing. There are seven stages of grief. I am not sure how many stages there are to whatever this is.

Despite the fact that we were both rather numb when the news came in, we decided to do something lovely anyway. Otherwise we would have spent much of the day jumping at shadows and waiting for the phone to ring, even though it wasn’t going to ring at all. That seemed like a terrible idea, so we went to Deal for the day instead.

Going to Deal for the day was going to be our Valentines’ treat to ourselves, except not on Valentines’ day because we can't deal with all that nonsense. Deal got further delayed when Jason booked us in for a two hour pottery lesson at Art Craft Studios, just down the road, as a surprise Valentine thing on the day we had been thinking of going to Deal.

This was actually super exciting, because I have been talking about going to a pottery class for months and finding various reasons to put it off. The class was specifically for learning to throw on a wheel, which is something I have always wanted to do. I wasn’t allowed to use the pottery wheel at school, because only the people who were good at art got to do that, and I wasn’t considered to be good at art. It was a big deal to have a go on the wheel. Take that, G.C.S.E. Art teacher whose name I have completely forgotten, despite the fact that his bitter expression is emblazoned on my brain.

Art really is the gift that keeps on giving. I found it enormously empowering, learning to make two, very wonky bowls on the wheel. The process of learning to centre the clay, so it doesn’t wobble off, was incredibly powerful. Having to feel the process through my hands rather than with my head was also very moving. I loved it so much I cried. We are going back for more.

So thanks to our pottery interlude, Deal took a back seat and today seemed to be a good day to bring it to the front seat again.

It was pretty perfect, all in all. The weather was so glorious I was able to throw off my coat and my jumper both. We walked along the sea front, grading the million and one dogs on the special dog scale (all dogs have to be scored at more than ten out of ten and given encouraging notes - e.g. 15/10 - A good boy - strong tail action). It was exactly the kind of gentle, restorative activity that we needed in our slightly bewildered state.

I had wanted to eat lunch at the end of Deal’s strangely Stalinist pier. It’s one of the ugliest piers I’ve ever seen, but I am compelled by it. Unlike Brighton pier and its razzle dazzle, Deal pier is a no nonsense bit of kit. It has a bait and tackle shop at the beginning of the pier, where you can hire a rod and buy some frozen mackerel and spend the whole day lobbing it into the drink. There were about thirty people doing just that, having a lovely, lovely time. I enjoyed watching their enthusiasm. I was not tempted to join them. I used to date a boy, thousands of years ago, who was a sea fishing enthusiast. I have spent more hours than I care to mention digging up lug worms and fishing for mackerel off windy pier heads. If there was a badge for it, I’d have earned it.

There is a fantastic place called the Deal Pier Kitchen, with astonishing views and a lovely, mid century modern vibe that gives you all the hipster feels. That was where I had dreamed of going for lunch, so that was where we went. I ate lobster and crayfish Benedict and drank dry, English cuvee, so cold and crisp, sweat beaded on the glass. It was perfect and made more perfect by the fact that our table neighbour was the legendary Tim McInnerney and his wife. I had to forcibly restrain Jason from hugging him and demanding an autograph.

After lunch, we wended our way through the town, fossicking for treasure in charity shops and visiting the brilliant Don’t Walk, Walk gallery. We’ve bought pieces from there in the past, when we had money and the walls to hang them on. We have neither now, but we still popped in to see what shiny fings they had and chat to the owner of the gallery, who is a lovely, lovely guy. Last time we went there, we actually sort of broke in on a day it was closed and he was remarkably kind and let us stay. He also recommended we go and visit the bonkers Shell Grotto in Margate, which was an excellent tip. If you’re interested in art and don’t know where to start, he is such a warm, friendly man who has absolutely no pretensions at all and is super generous with his time and knowledge, you could do worse than start there.

We grabbed some cakes to sustain us on our way home and wended our way back to the boat feeling much more human. It’s amazing what a bit of sea air and sunshine can do.

Then, this evening, something else ended (not my marriage). It’s a good job I had the day off first and a bloody good job I’ve had some practice at this stuff. It looks like another trip to Deal may be in order.