This weekend I finally made it down the coast to Hastings. When I bought the flat in Margate, the only other place on the coast that was affordable was Hastings. Out of instinct – having never visited Hastings – I went for Margate as the place for a bolt hole. Visiting Hastings finally it was interesting to see how different the two places are. The geography of Hastings means that the old town is nestled into a valley in the cliffs, making it feel much more contained than Margate. We managed to arrive not long before dark, and wended our way up myriad tiny alleyways, between old houses leaning onto each other, until we were looking down at the whole town. It was possible in the twilight to picture it as the busy little fishing village it once was.

I was surprised by the number of Tudor buildings in the town, their upper storeys stooping over the pavements, everything on a wonk. I tried to peer in at the windows to work out which was the beautifully restored home of Alistair Hendy, a house I’ve already perved over on this blog. I couldn’t tell, but we did take a trip around his beautiful shop, which takes up the whole of a Georgian house on the high street. The stock was beautifully chosen but it was the building that blew me away. Lovingly restored, it smells of scrubbed wood, fire smoke and soap. ‘I could live here’ announced my fella. I’m working on it…

Images by Alastair Hendy

In the half-dark the fisherman’s huts for which Hastings is famous loomed atmospherically against the cliffs. And I stopped to photograph this sea-front cottage, the stunning combination of colours it employed being too good to miss. Red window frames and magenta walls are my tip for 2015…