I’m sorry to have to wax lyrical but it doesn’t get much better than being “down Deal” (as the local patois would have it).

I have lived in Tokyo, Hong Kong, Singapore and other places besides but I am rarely as happy as being “Down Deal”.

It can, admittedly, take a bit of time to get used to the locals. Most of the population travels on mobility scooters, but not because of age or disability. It just seems to be the fashion.  As ever in modern Britain, the town has its share of the obese and while perfectly capable of waddling along (which might help their obesity?) it is de rigueur to crash up onto the pavement in your mobility scooter to pop into the Co-op or the Pub.

I’m not sure whether the abundance of these vehicles is explained by their cheapness relative to the automobile, or whether the welfare state hands them out along with Prozac and benefits cheques. No matter – be prepared; there is an epidemic of the things “down Deal”.

You must also get used to the local language and idiom Down Deal.  Invariably you will be greeted by a single phrase from whomsoever you should happen to meet:

“All right”?

Is it a question? A statement perhaps? Does it require and answer as to the state of your health? Or is it meant to be rhetorical?  Don’t answer back would be my advice – when I have told them how I am or how I feel I am met with bemusement. It’s obviously not the correct and expected response.

When you part, the required and expected phrase to be uttered by both parties is:

“See you later”.

Again, it is all a bit of a puzzle. Are they expecting you to return the fully digested package of fish and chips you have just bought from them? Are they in fact old friends and you have simply forgotten their faces? Will you see them later? If so where? And when?

Leaving aside the difficulties of clear and unambiguous communication with the locals, Down Deal is a splendid place to exist. To fester. To do not very much except pass the time of day. Sit on the beach, watch the birds, paddle.

On the whole, it is quiet and civilised and beautiful. I recommend a visit but learn the language before you come and make sure you arrive on a mobility scooter.

Deal is a little seaside town in East Kent which seems to have been forgotten by time and a mile or so further south are to be found the wonders of Walmer and Kingsdown.

My wife took these pictures this afternoon as we stumbled for miles along the shingle beach in the early summer sunshine, buffeted by a fresh breeze and looking out across the English Channel.  Any further south and we would have climbed up onto the beautiful White Cliffs, and on to Dover.

There is something for everyone in this often overlooked part of the world; people usually just wizz through it on their way to the continent.  That is a huge mistake.

To the north you have kiss-me-quick and seaside rock, donkeys on golden beaches and fun fairs – Thanet. Ramsgate and sedate Cliftonville were favoured in Victorian days and by the early 20th Century, Margate was a mass of (long since gone) day trippers from London and modest holiday makers patronising  traditional seaside boarding houses. The Blackpool of the South coast.

In the 1960s Margate could be a dangerous and daring venue, reminiscent of Graham Green’s Brighton Rock and worse. Bank Holiday weekends often saw pitched battles between mods and rockers on the beach, and I remember being trapped in a seafront cafe while a gang waved chains and a shotgun outside the window. Heady days indeed!

By the time you get to Deal and Walmer it’s all a bit more civilised, although as with almost every town in the country, the outskirts are what Betjeman would have called Metroland.  Dull terraces and suburban villas.

But the seafront is as good as it gets, albeit in a home counties and civilised sense – no wilderness here.

In this crowded little island it is difficult to find emptiness and here, only 70 miles from London, you should not expect it. What you do get is convenience and charm.

On a day like this, who needs Greece or the Mediterranean?