Crabbing in Whitstable

We took the children crabbing, it turns out my two sister hostesses are a dab hand at crabbing. I spent hours as a child in Mudeford with a bucket of water, crouched peering into pools under the groynes trying to catch weeny crabs, andnever catching a one sir. Turns out I was doing it all wrong, the secret is bacon. Yes bacon, a piece of raw bacon on a line hung over the side of a groyne, the crabs were throwing themselves at us. N caught 5 within as many minutes and big ones too. Of course we put them back, watching them scuttle back in with the waves, but with a lovely sense of acheivement that I’d never encountered crabbing as a child. They were paid 5p for every crab caught by their granny so had become well practiced. I sat Erbie on the pebbles for a while and he was very contented but I didn’t want to explain to a doctor why my baby had swallowed three pebbles, so he mostly stayed strapped to me in the Baby Bjorn.