Crepes, council and feet in mouths
Last Sunday, after our usual disappointing visit to the monthly market in the Lower High Street (though we did buy some splendid smoked garlic from a Frenchman’s cheese stall), Mrs B and I cheered ourselves up by sitting in the sunshine outside the gelato shop in Bank Street.
“May I know your name?” I asked the chap who served us with two vast crepes, Mrs B’s piled and stuffed with banana slices and drenched in caramel, mine equally packed with strawberries and soaked in maple syrup.
“My name is Ish” said the man.
The crepes, like the weather, were splendid, though the table at which we sat had a disturbing wobble.
Rather more disturbing than the wobbly table was the news revealed in last week’s KE that the Kingsnorth Recreation Centre is facing closure. This, it seems, is because an outside agency, rather oddly named as