As I now find myself considering a move to the sunnier side of the Isle, I thought I'd saunter on over there last night in an attempt to acclimatise myself.
My word, there ARE some great pubs in Ramsgate, aren't there!
I think my favourite, though, would have to be Churchills, being one of those 'closet' gay pubs that you come across from time to time. And some of the characters that you'll find there are quite remarkable! I found myself chatting to a chap called Joe for a while, a rather loud and brash individual that fancies himself as a bit of a ladies man, who took great delight in recounting the tale of an ex-girlfriend who used to hoover his flat in the nude while he followed her around, crevice tool in hand, making things (well, thing, anyway) hard for her. Personally, I couldn't see the turn on but, not wishing to knock anything until I've tried it, I'll have a little stab at getting Dr. Sam to help out with a reenactment before I poo poo the idea.
He then went on to describe his experience, in far too much detail, of a hugely endowed black woman that he'd met in America, who allowed him and his friend to perform an amateur mammogram on her, for a dollar each.
At this point I was starting to feel a little queasy, so made my excuses and went off in a vain attempt to find someone a little less eccentric to talk to.
What a pub!
I think I may have to trundle along there again, tonight.