Shhhh, don’t tell anyone but… I’m disorganised!

When it comes to being organised I think people fall into two camps*; those that just are and that love it, being organised is a part of their DNA, and those that can be organised if they really have to and in that case, they can be really on it! I fall into the latter and, unfortunately for me, all of my powers in that persuasion are used for work. I’m an Executive Assistant and sometime Project Manager/Recruiter/Events Manager/general organiser type so I have to be a ninja organiser on behalf of other people – only problem, there’s just nothing left in the tank for me. When it comes to getting my shit together, I’m completely spent.

All that to say that earlier this year I found myself with just days to spare searching for somewhere to go for a long weekend in England. Don’t get me wrong, I HAD found somewhere perfect – a beautiful little cottage in the middle of the New Forest that I’d set my heart on. Think “The Holiday” and you get the vibe, but the owner wasn’t around and couldn’t get the house ready for me to arrive the next day.

My obsession with food leads me to Margate.

With less than 24 hours to spare I started trawling the internet in earnest. I really wanted to go to the Jurrasic Coast but, I couldn’t find anywhere close enough to the coast that worked for me. And then I had a lightbulb moment… “aha!!! Susie, why don’t you go to Margate!?” There was a restaurant I’d been wanting to visit for an age but had been planning to do as a day trip and suddenly it all made sense.

And so, after searching for the “best hotels in Margate”, “the most stylish boutique hotels in Margate”, “beautiful pubs with rooms Margate” etc. I came across the most charming hotel, The Walpole Bay Hotel and Museum, and as luck would have it, they had availability AND I could afford it. Happy days. I booked a room, booked a train, booked dinner at Sargasso (the restaurant around which this particular jaunt was based), and ran upstairs to pack.

As soon as I got off the train at Margate I regretted my choice of hotel (quickly got over that though coz it was a gem) as I realised it was a bit of a way from the station, and from Margate centre. Turns out there’s quite a lot of stuff going on around Walpole Bay; Cliftonville (the coolest neighbourhood in the UK and 8th in the world, according to Time Out) is a stone’s throw away, and the hotel is THE best place to stay if you want a quick dip in the tidal pool, which is huge and absolutely brilliant.

Is it a museum? Is it a photoshoot location? Is it a hotel? It’s all three, and more!

The Walpole Bay Hotel is… how to put it (because, to be clear, I absolutely loved it), it’s not chic in the traditional sense, it’s dated (their website says timeless but it’s definitely of a time – a bygone era, and there’s nothing wrong with that) but not in an ironic way, it’s not a trendy little bouji place – it’s a family run big, small hotel. The story behind how the family came to own it, with no money and no experience, is incredible and really inspiring. It’s a never-ending renovation project that’s so full of love and warmth it’s oozing out of every nook and cranny. It’s wonderful – so interesting and full of charm and with proper old school service. It’s a bit like stepping back in time and it’s packed full of vintage treasures everywhere you set your eyes. It actually had a set of crockery in a cabinet on the floor I was on that was very similar to one I’ve been searching for for years ever since I made the mistake of not buying it in a little brocante in France many moons ago. I did ask if they ever sold any of the finds but unfortunately not. I considered stealing a plate or two but sadly, I am not made for theft. As I made my way to my room the first time, I got the fright of my life as I turned my head towards the right and was met by a large collection of large baby dolls in pushchairs and prams and Victorian dress – it felt like something out of The Shining (have never seen that so might be the totally wrong vibe but that’s what came to mind for me!) – definitely the stuff of nightmares! I considered asking to be moved to a different room but decided to tough it out, owing to being an adult and all.

A corner of the ladies’ on the first floor. Just look at that wallpaper.

But my room was gorgeous, it was the one I’d most liked the look of on their website. It had a little balcony with a sea view – I was out and about most of the time but still, it felt like such a tonic to sit out there for a brief moment each evening and morning, cup of tea or book in hand.

Vintage teacup and saucer on vintage chest of drawers looking through a vintage mirror to a vintage room. Love it.

Fancy yourself as a bit of an artist?

The hotel also has a museum stuffed with treasures, well, actually, the hotel IS a museum with pieces from the 19th and 20th centuries mostly – lots from the 20s and 30s. There’s also lots of information on the hotel itself and on the local area. Think rooms overflowing with hats, cabinets full of glassware and crockery, toasters, fireplaces, gas lamps, even the Otis lift, the original trellis gated lift, is a museum piece. There is also a stunning display of napkin artwork around the hotel and in The Napery. There are napkins by Tracy Emin (bien sur, she LOVES the place, apparently) as well as the likes of you and me. If you want to have a go at decorating a napkin you just have to say and you’ll be given a plain white napkin to take away and post back once you’ve worked your magic. I was enthralled by it but amazingly managed to stop myself from asking for a takeaway napkin – probably for the best.

One of the napkins, a rather saucy illustration of the Pink Snooker Room

Sargasso: a culinary delight with a view.

Once I’d freshened up I headed out to Sargasso. I’d booked the only available table which was at the ludicrously early time of 6pm, can you imagine… eating dinner at 6pm!? It was perfect for watching the sun go down though and it was also lovely to be able to walk along the seafront for the twenty or so minutes from the hotel and breathe and just take in the beauty of it all. Sargasso sits on a beautiful stone pier known as the “Harbour Arm” a few short steps from the Turner Contemporary. I’d somehow imagined from all the Instagram posts that the views were out to sea (I mean, seriously… how that’s what I understood, I’ll never know) but they’re actually across the harbour and back into Margate care of their incredible picture windows. The restaurant is long and thin with the bar and kitchen on one side and then a handful of tables on the other and maybe, five or six seats along the bar. I was seated at the bar counter and If you know me you’ll know that I HATE stools – I’m always scared that if I sit on them fully, i.e., with my feet not on the floor, I’ll break them, so the seating arrangement wasn’t ideal. However, the opportunity to sit and watch drinks being made and all the food being made and to chat to the chefs more than made up for it. Within ten minutes of sitting down, a woman a stool but one from me had shuffled down to sit next to me. I felt disconcerted, she was very effusively telling me how beautiful I was and just generally how utterly fantastic and brilliant I was – but she was clear she wasn’t hitting on me (was starting to feel that way). She insisted on buying me a drink, and one for the bartender and it became clear that she might be a bit of a nuisance (to the bartender, not me). She was actually pretty sweet, just perhaps a bit lonely and quite pissed. She left after not too long but I felt as though I’d got a little strike against me for encouraging her. I mean, I’m sorry but I had no reason not to chat to her, she was being perfectly nice to me and, I was on my own, so it was nice to strike up a little conversation.

A view of Margate from Harbour Arm’s Sargasso

I ate… ahem… what didn’t I eat!? Sourdough bread and salted butter, Tenderstem broccoli with brown shrimp and pangrattato which was sublime, beautiful textures and intense flavour – I swore to find a brown shrimp source when back at home and use them in my cooking more (not done yet). Clams with sherry and ham, the sherry was actually, surprisingly, pronounced, there was a sort of earthy round richness to the dish. Squid with black pudding and chickpeas – so my kind of food, every bite was taken in slo-mo and savoured. And to finish off a panna cotta with blood orange and Campari. I actually ate more than that, but I didn’t write it all down! Eeek… I just wanted a taste of everything, is that so wrong!?

Squid with black pudding and chickpeas. SO good.

All in all, an exceptional meal. The person serving me was A* and I said so at the end, as she gave me tips for where to go in Margate (they sort of all sounded like places a 20 year old would go, which is probably right since that’s about how old she was) and she said that she’d been doing a trial shift!! Awww, sweet. I hope she got the job, she’d have been an asset. The food was top notch and the chefs were great, pulling out a can of black pudding (say what!? I’ve never seen it in a can before) to show me the best they’ve found (Anne Rozès) and telling me where the best place to swim was (the tidal pool) and all about the free sauna the locals use to warm themselves up after a dip in the pool.

Beautiful clams in sherry with ham and a perfect sauce just crying out for some bread to mop it up.

In which my bladder gets me into trouble.

Something you might find odd about Sargasso, and all of the businesses along the Harbour Arm (aside from the pub, The Harbour Arms) is that it didn’t have a loo – you had to go and ask for a key, although it was unlocked all evening when I was there, for the loo half way along the pier. This is an issue for me because I drink about twice as much water as the average person and therefore, need the loo twice as often! I don’t really like bringing attention to the fact that I’m on trip number four to the loo, and no I’m not up to anything dodgy… I’ve just got a weak bladder ok? But joy upon joys, on my first trip to the loo, and looking for the pub (where there was supposedly also a loo I could use, I think…), I thought I heard some live music. I went back to take a look just as someone was coming out of the source of the music. They asked if I needed help and I explained I was just trying to work out the loo situation but had got distracted “was that live music I just heard!?”, “Is there a gig on tonight?”. It was an open mic night apparently. He directed me to the loo and I left promising I would definitely pop in once I’d finished my meal.

Fast forward to the end of my meal, another trip to the loo and… in I burst to the Open Mic Night. Yes! Only… well, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting. Firstly, it was TINY! Secondly, I thought it was a pub but it was a Caribbean take away, only, I couldn’t work out if they were serving any food or drink. Not that I needed more food! And then, there were four people in there – a guy on the drums, another on bass (who spent his whole time with his back to the room), and another, the one I’d spoken with earlier, on guitar. And then… another person. I thought “I must have mis-heard, I think I’ve burst in on their private rehearsal, shit, HELP!”. I wondered, could I just very quietly back away and make a swift exit? Or perhaps maybe, the ground could open up and swallow me. But here’s the thing about me, I rather like being in situations that make me feel insanely uncomfortable apparently, I certainly find myself in them often enough! And so I stayed. And as the night progressed more people joined, truly good musicians and singers (they asked me if I could sing, I absolutely cannot), a mixture of people of all ages and backgrounds. I bought a beer, and then another and found myself standing frontwards, head bopping and a huge grin on my face as one of the people opened his mouth to sing and the most unexpected soulful and gravely voice came out of him. The vibe was beautiful, it’s a regular jam session, every Thursday at The Grub Hub. I felt as though I was getting a little glimpse into real Margate, the people who really live there, and I liked it. I left as more people arrived, a father and son who weren’t musicians but said they come along often because it’s such a buzz to watch musicians jamming and it is, when they’re good, and these ones were. I left feeling energised and very stupidly (don’t worry, nothing bad happened) set off back to the hotel along the pitch-black sea front – coming to my senses before long and heading back to the main road. Aside from the possibility of being swept out to sea (pretty low, I know) it really isn’t sensible for a solo female (or just person) to walk around in the pitch dark on a deserted seafront in an area they don’t know. I like to think it speaks of how secure I felt there but suspect it’s more just my general idiocy.

Exiting the seafront stage left via a lot of steps! It’s very step-y in Margate.

Sigh. I love being by the sea.

Back at the hotel, I sat out on my balcony and listened to the sea crashing, reflecting on what a brilliant first day I’d had and how happy I was that fate (aka my disorganisation) had brought me here, before heading to bed for a good night’s sleep.

*There is a third camp, those poor sods for whom chaos really is king and I’m not gonna lie, I’m sometimes fearful that that way lies my future.

Have you ever booked somewhere last minute that has turned out to be a dream? Or a nightmare? Or what about getting into awkward situations? Please tell me I’m not the only one?

I’ll be posting Part 2, in which I almost freeze to death and I eat at a restaurant that I’d give three Michelin stars to, over on my Substack. You don’t have to sign up to read but I’d love it if you did join my mailing list and community.

48 Hours in Margate or being so disorganised you forget to book your holiday – Part 1