THE HOO PENINSULA is a fat tongue of land in the Thames estuary, and its northern flood plain is the largest stretch of anything like wilderness near London.
Few people venture into it beyond the bird-watching platforms to the west, and the caravan park at Allhallows to the east. Between those points lies a four-mile-wide waste of rough hummocky ground, wind-stunted trees and tumbledown buildings. Important things once happened here: monks gathered salt from an inlet, a munitions factory was built during the Second World War. Now it’s left to the short memories of the sheep and cows foraging among the creeks.
Yesterday it was very blowy and, not having brought any gloves, my fingers soon became stupid with cold. This isn’t a particularly good recording, but maybe it’ll convey a faint sense of this strange and grand place.