Fish and Chips in Folkestone

It wasn't until the last day of Plymouth and Falmouth that Molly realised we hadn't eaten fish and chips at all that trip. So we made lunch in Folkestone a fish and chip priority. However once we arrived after a meagre 2 hour drive we went to our previous haunt and found it deserted. Our spirits were crushed... Closed for the season it said... Nevertheless we were undeterred, and after a recommendation from a restaurant we heading up the old High street to a lovely little fish and chippy.

Quality.

After asking too much about the sustainability of the fish and where it was sourced from I got the distinct impression fishing in Folkestone wasn't going too well. They said that they couldn't rely on the locally sourced fish and had gone into London to billingsgate to buy their fish. Also after the summer time was now fully over it felt like a much emptier town. It was the perfect setting for in our hands, this feeling of things winding down and times moving on, the local chippy had grown impatient with the fisherman and had resorted to buying in London, such is the case with modern day trawling and the massive demand for fish that this country has. As soon as your fish numbers start dropping you loose business, in fact you could lose a buyer forever, as the market in London has a much better selection and price than you.

So this is where we came to share Alfs story. Having been down and rehearsed previously it was great to finally perform it at the Quaterhouse, it was a great venue and the crew there were amazing. Luke and I explored the tension net high above the stage where Sherry was darting back and forth adjusting lights and sorting them out at the desk. And we looked at the "Gerties eye view" of the set from above, suspended in a net above Alfs boat... One perspective we hadn't yet tried on the set, although I don't think everywhere has a tension net... Bramley Apple