We slipped onto an early Victoria train with pastries still warm, reached Seaford as gulls lifted, and climbed to Hope Gap while the Sisters blushed pink. Later, tea steamed at Birling Gap, and laughter carried us sleepily back to London’s evening buzz.
Rain needled faces and the cliff path thundered underfoot, yet every ferry horn sounded like encouragement. We counted paces between gusts, tucked into the café near South Foreland, and watched weather peel open blue as homebound carriages clicked into the station.
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