Whitstable is a jewel on the Kent coast — perfect for fresh oysters and a breezy stroll.
Ed Grenby - 12 August 2025
Kerry Godliman pioneered it, but I’m naming it. Whitstable Pearl is “seafood noir” – and if it hasn’t yet inspired a whole copy - cat TV genre (which it probably will), it has certainly inspired a few visits to its real-world milieu. The crime show, set on the Kent coast, is currently into its third series of salty, sinister murders and lingering glances across the shingle, with Godliman as the seafood-slinging sleuth. But the true star is the location: real-life Whitstable has all the bobbing oyster yawls, creaking hulls and fresh-fish-fuelled charm of the show, but without simmering suspense between mussels and main course.
Truth be told, you don’t need a murder mystery to find intrigue in Whitstable. A short hop from London – under 80 minutes by train – it’s long on seaside appeal. The harbour is still working, the high street still hosts actual marine supplies stores among the Breton-top-toting boutiques, and there’s still the sense that locals would be here with or without the influx of weekenders and the occasional TV camera crew. Start, as Godliman’s Pearl Nolan herself might, with a wander along Harbour Street. It’s a pick ’n’ mix of vintage stores, artist-run galleries and those irresistibly browsable little shops where everything seems to smell of driftwood and lavender. A few steps farther is the Harbour Market, where oysters are shucked to order for just £2.50 each, and you can pick up nautical knick-knacks. It’s either delightfully authentic or one puff of wind away from twee, depending on your mood and how many Whitstable Brewery Oyster Stouts you’ve had from the open-air bar next to the oyster-shuckers…
The beach itself is no golden-sanded sprawl; instead, it’s a salt-tang shinglescape, fringed with candy-coloured beach huts and shaped by centuries of North Sea breezes. It’s a beach for dog-walkers and daydreamers, not for sandcastles or sunbathing, though when I visited last month the water was warm enough for a brief paddle. Meanwhile, the sunsets are Turner-esque – all pink slashes and purple spillages over the sea – and they make a fitting backdrop to a pint at the Old Neptune, a pub so close to the tide it seems to be considering a life as a houseboat.
When it comes to food, there are few wrong turns, but a definite right one is Pearson’s Arms (pearsonsarmswhitstable.co.uk). Tucked off the seafront, it’s fuses pub comfort with a wink of polish. Downstairs, it’s all low-beamed ceilings and comfy armchairs by the fire, but head upstairs to eat and things get more refined: from oysters to Kentish apple and blackberry caramel. It’s the sort of meal you imagine Pearl herself would settle into after another long day of coastal criminality – although she’d probably have the whitebait. (She might also be tempted by local institutions Wheelers and the Whitstable Oyster Company, both book-ahead-busy for good reason.)
As for somewhere to stay, the Duke of Cumberland (dukeofcumberland hotel.co.uk) nails that Goldilocks balance: neither too posh nor too pubby, but just right. Each chic and unique room above the historic inn is comfortable in a way that feels cosy rather than showroomy, and you can hear the hum of the town winding down below, a lullaby of clinking pint glasses and distant gulls. The breakfasts wouldn’t disappoint Pearl either: local sausages, black pudding cooked to crisped perfection, eggs any way you like, and coffee that decidedly doesn’t taste like it’s been siphoned through a lifeboat.
After that, you’re all set up for a day’s top-qual - ity pottering. There are side streets to duck down; cycle paths snaking all the way to Seasalter; a small, sweet “castle”; a lose-yourself[1]for-20-minutes local museum with a mock-up of a Victorian oyster yawl and more maritime trivia than you ever thought you’d enjoy; and even a must-visit Wetherspoon, the Peter Cush - ing (he was local), inside a gloriously un-redone old cinema. Much of this stuff, naturally, has found its way into Whitstable Pearl – the show uses its setting not just as background but as texture, layering the stories with local grit.
And even if you don’t consciously chase the filming locations, you’ll still spot them. That pastel-fronted fisherman’s cottage? Pearl’s. The alleyway between the deli and the wine shop? Definitely the scene of at least one suspicious exchange.
The real joy here, though, is stripping the fiction from the reality. The show’s dark, brooding atmosphere? Fiction. The buttery, golden-hour light and easy-breezy loveliness of a perfect seaside week - end? Very much reality.
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Truth be told, you don’t need a murder mystery to find intrigue in Whitstable. A short hop from London – under 80 minutes by train – it’s long on seaside appeal. The harbour is still working, the high street still hosts actual marine supplies stores among the Breton-top-toting boutiques, and there’s still the sense that locals would be here with or without the influx of weekenders and the occasional TV camera crew. Start, as Godliman’s Pearl Nolan herself might, with a wander along Harbour Street. It’s a pick ’n’ mix of vintage stores, artist-run galleries and those irresistibly browsable little shops where everything seems to smell of driftwood and lavender. A few steps farther is the Harbour Market, where oysters are shucked to order for just £2.50 each, and you can pick up nautical knick-knacks. It’s either delightfully authentic or one puff of wind away from twee, depending on your mood and how many Whitstable Brewery Oyster Stouts you’ve had from the open-air bar next to the oyster-shuckers…
The beach itself is no golden-sanded sprawl; instead, it’s a salt-tang shinglescape, fringed with candy-coloured beach huts and shaped by centuries of North Sea breezes. It’s a beach for dog-walkers and daydreamers, not for sandcastles or sunbathing, though when I visited last month the water was warm enough for a brief paddle. Meanwhile, the sunsets are Turner-esque – all pink slashes and purple spillages over the sea – and they make a fitting backdrop to a pint at the Old Neptune, a pub so close to the tide it seems to be considering a life as a houseboat.
When it comes to food, there are few wrong turns, but a definite right one is Pearson’s Arms (pearsonsarmswhitstable.co.uk). Tucked off the seafront, it’s fuses pub comfort with a wink of polish. Downstairs, it’s all low-beamed ceilings and comfy armchairs by the fire, but head upstairs to eat and things get more refined: from oysters to Kentish apple and blackberry caramel. It’s the sort of meal you imagine Pearl herself would settle into after another long day of coastal criminality – although she’d probably have the whitebait. (She might also be tempted by local institutions Wheelers and the Whitstable Oyster Company, both book-ahead-busy for good reason.)
As for somewhere to stay, the Duke of Cumberland (dukeofcumberland hotel.co.uk) nails that Goldilocks balance: neither too posh nor too pubby, but just right. Each chic and unique room above the historic inn is comfortable in a way that feels cosy rather than showroomy, and you can hear the hum of the town winding down below, a lullaby of clinking pint glasses and distant gulls. The breakfasts wouldn’t disappoint Pearl either: local sausages, black pudding cooked to crisped perfection, eggs any way you like, and coffee that decidedly doesn’t taste like it’s been siphoned through a lifeboat.
After that, you’re all set up for a day’s top-qual - ity pottering. There are side streets to duck down; cycle paths snaking all the way to Seasalter; a small, sweet “castle”; a lose-yourself[1]for-20-minutes local museum with a mock-up of a Victorian oyster yawl and more maritime trivia than you ever thought you’d enjoy; and even a must-visit Wetherspoon, the Peter Cush - ing (he was local), inside a gloriously un-redone old cinema. Much of this stuff, naturally, has found its way into Whitstable Pearl – the show uses its setting not just as background but as texture, layering the stories with local grit.
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And even if you don’t consciously chase the filming locations, you’ll still spot them. That pastel-fronted fisherman’s cottage? Pearl’s. The alleyway between the deli and the wine shop? Definitely the scene of at least one suspicious exchange.
The real joy here, though, is stripping the fiction from the reality. The show’s dark, brooding atmosphere? Fiction. The buttery, golden-hour light and easy-breezy loveliness of a perfect seaside week - end? Very much reality.
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Whitstable Pearl, Friday 9.00pm U&Drama