What with the shelter and so on the dead of Margate in particular should be familiar with the poem that goes:
And what the dead had no speech for, when living,
They can tell you, being dead: the communication
Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
Here, the intersection of the timeless moment
Is England and nowhere. Never and always.
Theoretically it was my day off today and if not a funeral then a disposal of sorts that eventually culminated in a visit to Margate tip. Appropriately perhaps, next to Margate municipal rubbish disposal site is the Margate people disposal site and I stopped off there for a short walk.
There wasn’t time for a sketch so I took some photos, here is the link.
If you go there don’t forget to indulge yourself in a moment of inconvenience, and enjoy the Victorian ablutions, I am adamant about this.