Picture the scene – one of the checkouts at Morrisons supermarket on Cheriton Road in the late summer of 2018.
I have placed my shopping on the conveyor belt along with my walking tour embossed satchel.
As the middle aged woman on the till begins to ring through my fresh tagliatelle, packet of arrabbiata sauce and bottle of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo – enough to begin with to raise her eyebrows at – she spies my bright red bag.
The conversation goes like this.
Woman (sniffily)
Folkestone Walking Tours – hmmm. What’s that mean?
Me (enthusiastically)
I deliver walking tours of Folkestone.
Woman (inquisitively)
Oh. You’re from Folkestone then, are you?
Me (informatively)
No, I moved here two years ago.
Woman (aggressively)
I’ve lived here all my life. What makes you think you know all about it then?
Me (pleasantly if defensively)
I certainly don’t. But I love Folkestone, having spent my holidays here as a child. And I want to share that with visitors and others,
I’ve also done a lot of research and talked to many people who are lifelong residents.
Woman (distrustfully)
Well, it doesn’t sound right to me.
Me (helpfully)
Perhaps you could come on one of my tours and see for yourself? You’d be very welcome.
Woman (irritatingly)
That’s not my sort of thing. Besides, I can’t walk very far.
I bag my Italian feast for two, pay and make my excuses.
I should finish by making it clear that I had nothing to do with the fire that raged through the building a couple of months later.
Tony Quarrington 