I’ve taken a drive down to Broadstairs today. In part because I needed to get away from North Kent for a few hours, but also because it does my mental health the world of good.

I parked up by my old school at Dumpton Gap like normal and walked into the town along the seawall. That first hit of salty sea air brought in off the Channel always hits me and releases a sea of endorphins with it. It always amazes me at the effects sea air has on me. In one breath my anxiety went from swaying between Amber and Red to Amber and Green.

My childhood was pretty darn good. Most of my childhood memories are happy ones. Even the sad and difficult ones feel like they have a caring embrace to them. My time at Gap House has a special part in those memories, and because of that this little slice of the world has a special place in my soul.

I am frustrated that I didn’t get down here in the summer. I’d planned a day down on the Dumpton Gap beach for a fair chunk of a day. I was going to cover my pale flesh in factor 50, and read and write, and just take it all in. Unfortunately circumstances came up where I needed to redirect my energies to the areas of life that needed them. I did pop down a few weeks ago for a little while, and pretty much did what I’ve done today. Come and had a Costa before strolling back.

It’s quite busy down here today. There’s an older couple sitting on the next table discussing world events, A group of teenage girls who sound german. Possibly here on a school trip, there’s a lot of school aged teens walking around this small part of the town. (I later saw a large group of them walking along the sea wall behind me). There’s a man and a woman with learning difficulties sitting with their career enjoying their drinks and food, chatting away and smiling. From the small snippets of conversation I overhear they’re talking pop culture and what phone is the best to get next time. The staff are chatting away between customers as they do those little bits and pieces that they likely don’t have time to do while there’s a queue of people to serve. Like the Whitstable Costa there’s a pretty good vibe here. Its welcoming and the hot choc is pretty darn good. Everyone in here seems very settled and enjoying themselves.

Outside the High Street has had moments where it’s been very busy. Lots of people walking around, teenagers like I said, but also couples wandering around this small part or the town. People rushing around, doing those bits and pieces we all seem to have too much to do. There’s two fellas in orange high-vis outside a chip shop, and lots of gorgeous doggos! It’s a funny bit of road here, but there’s no angry horns going off, or raised voices. Even though this is just an hour or so from where I live, there is a calmer mentality here. Being that but further away from the chaos of London really does make a difference to our hive mentality.

As I was getting towards Viking Bay I saw a couple of plant vehicles and looked on to see the sand had been pushed up the beach to create an additional barrier to protect the buildings from the coming volatile seas that winter brings. It got me thinking about how this thin strip of water has been this country’s best line of defence. I think it was the Norman’s who were somewhat successful in last invading these isles in 1066. I did see in a quick google that a small French feet in the 1700s sometime tried to invade Bristol but they didn’t succeed. I think about how it, and a few pilots held back the Nazi war machine from conquering this land, the consequences of which are unthinkable. I don’t know why, but it made me think of a documentary I saw twenty, maybe twenty-five years ago about Neanderthals. It ended with the statement that if Neanderthals had had a birthrate of something like two percent higher, or a death rate of two percent lower then there’s a good chance they would have survived alongside us for longer. It makes me wonder if a margin that fine was a factor in the Nazi’s failed attempt at invading this country.

When I think of mental health, most of us are on such a fine margin than we care to admit.

The hatred we are bombarded with feels like its right out of Adolf’s playbook. We’re in a Orwellian nightmare where politicians, news outlets, and influencers spew hatred. Directing us to hate those who the people who fill the pockets of these public figures with the intention of keeping us looking in any direction but them. The people who pull the strings of the people who crave the spotlight. Our fellow humans are dehumanised to stop people feeling empathy for them. When a boat full of asylum seekers sink, or a hospital is struck by a missile. People who have been pulled into addiction to escape the pain of traumas, or feeling like there is nothing better to focus their lives on. People who live in poorer areas, people who have to sleep on the streets. These are all people. They all deserve the basics of having food, a roof over their heads, and facilities to stay clean and healthy. There is enough money and resources on this planet to give that to the people that need it. But no, we’re directed to hate those less fortunate than us. We’re made to feel like we’re better than them. While our focus is twisted into hatred, those in power make laws that strip us of our rights, without us noticing it.

What’s that line, I think it’s from the bible, ‘Beware of false idols,’ Our world is full of them.

With all this blitzkrieg of hatred being launched at unit’s important to make time for those little things that take that pressure off us. It could be time with loved ones, A book, film, tv show. A particular song. Or it could be a trip to the seaside.

A small pleasure has the potential to wipe away ten times the hatred and anxiety around us.