After a hearty b&b breakfast, and a session blogging in Dover library, we are relaxing with coffee in Market Square. A sub-Vera Lynne rendition of "White Cliffs of Dover" suddenly floods the area over a tannoy. Its crude jollity entirely fails to match Vera's embodiment of bitter-sweet longing.
Historically transient, Dover is dominated by its port, both from the cliffs above . . .
. . . and on the beach below.
It's a strange day for news; following film director Ingmar Bergman's death yesterday, news of the passing of another great - Antonioni - has arrived in my email box. Then some comfort in the Guardian; Michele Hanson, who writes of aging with an extraordinary subtle mix of humour and poignancy, reports that the "senior moments" my generation complain of, and which have had me forgetting vital items and phone calls throughout this journey, are in fact "storage failure", the product of the busy, stressful lives of all ages.
In the same paper, cryptic crossword clue 4 down reads: "Constant puffing - evidence of frantic cycling? (5,7)" .... answer: "chain smoking".
5.30 pm
Back to St Margaret's Bay for a meal at the Coastguard Freehouse.
The end of the day is peaceful and happy.
