Reclining in my chair I gaze through the second-floor window. Charlotte (my second-grade pupil) footballs in the large communal garden. Behind her, over the hedge, lies Westgate Bay. July, tide’s out and children indulge in sandy pleasures. The ice cream van’s doing a brisk trade in 99 flakes. Couples old and young stroll the promenade en route to Margate or off for a ramble to St Nicholas-at-Wade. Idyllic scene of British seaside bliss. Most of these pleasure seekers weren’t around in May. Spring storms brewed and I safely watched from my comfy chair. Driftwood beams were disgorged across the promenade as waves frothed over the cliffs chaperoning the bay. Somehow that storm was more tranquil than the mis en scène unfolding below me. Appearances can fool!