Herne Bay FC

There’s a lot of club badges out there to cover and I do try and complete them in some sort of order – but occasionally when trawling through Twitter I see something that catches my eye and it screams out for attention – Herne Bay’s badge was just one of those. It's a cracker.

Founded in the early 1880s, Herne Bay FC has been part of the town’s fabric for well over a century. Today they play at Winch’s Field, competing in the Isthmian League Division One South, and they’ve had plenty to celebrate along the way — Kent League titles in 1992, 1994, 1997, 1998, and 2012.

Like their town, the club has weathered storms — quite literally. Coastal erosion, floods, and changing fortunes have never dulled the local enthusiasm. So let’s do them the honour and #GetTheBadgeIn for their striking crest.

The waves on Herne Bay’s badge are a clear nod to its relationship with the sea. Herne Bay stares out into the Thames Estuary and has shaped its fortunes. From the tourism of the 1800s to the megawatts of energy coming ashore today from the massed ranks of wind turbines – Herne Bay and the sea rise and fall as one.

Before tourism, Herne Bay was a small shipping community, ferrying goods and passengers between London, Canterbury, and Dover. Fun fact – this sort of coastal trade (when conducted by a foreign-flagged ship) is known as cabotage (from the French caboter – ‘to sail along the coast’). Which is one of my favourite words. It sounds like a ploy to sabotage a nation’s vegetable supply.

Anywho – when Victorian investors built the pier in the 1830s (try getting planning permission for something that ambitious these days…), the town became a seaside sensation, catering for well-to-do Londoners seeking a weekend escape. Like Southend, Herne Bay was purpose-built for pleasure — complete with its own pier, promenade, seaside gardens, and later the world’s first freestanding clock tower. Which brings us neatly to the most striking emblem on the badge…

The Victorian Clock Tower, one of Herne Bay’s defining landmarks. Built in 1837 and financed by Mrs Ann Thwaytes, a wealthy widow from London. Ann and her husband loved holidaying in Herne Bay and when he sadly passed away she funded its construction in his honour. In 1902 it was affixed with the names of the volunteers from the town who had fought and died in the Second Boer War.

The tower was the first of its kind anywhere in the world: a freestanding clock tower built purely for public use. Rising proudly above the seafront, it has ticked through the town’s entire story — from the steamboat era to the present day.

Its inclusion on the club badge is more than civic pride. When supporters see that tower stitched onto their shirts, they are reminded that they represent not just a club, but a community that has built successful industries and chosen to fight for its country abroad – a town that has withstood the tests of time (…sorry).

Above the waves on the crest sits a white bird. To me it looks like a heron - and the rare 'purple heron' is occasionally spotted along the coast. So it’s a fitting emblem for a town that is home to one of Kent’s key wildlife reserves, the Reculver Country Park, just east of Herne Bay. This stretch of coastline is designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest and a Special Protection Area for birds. Thousands of migratory and native species feed, nest, and soar above these waters — and it is a famous site within the bird-watching community.

Herne Bay sits neatly between Whitstable and Reculver, about six miles north of Canterbury. The name “Herne” comes from the Old English hyrne, meaning corner, reflecting its position on a crook of the Kent coastline. The Victorians saw potential in that corner — a chance to build a perfect coastal escape — and Herne Bay became one of Britain’s earliest planned seaside resorts.

By the late 1800s, its population had doubled, the pier stretched an impressive 3,600 feet into the estuary, and elegant gardens lined the shore. People came for the fresh air, the concerts, and the spectacle of the clock tower marking time against the tide.

Herne Bay’s story mirrors the rise and fall of many British seaside towns. Its pier, once the second-longest in the UK after Southend’s, drew crowds and steamers from London.

Holidaymakers filled the hotels and gardens, and the town thrived as the Victorian middle class embraced the joy of sea air. But as foreign travel grew and storms battered the coast, Herne Bay’s heyday faded.

Yet, just like their football club, the town refused to give in. Regeneration projects in the 1990s restored much of its charm, from the Victorian bandstand to the Neptune’s Arm sea defences, and today Herne Bay is finding new life in heritage tourism and coastal conservation.

Herne Bay also claims, quite fantastically, to be home to the world’s first roller-hockey club. The Herne Bay Roller Hockey Club dates back to the early 1900s, and while I am a little unsure I believe it was the very first, in a very uncrowded market, I am sure, it has a good claim.

The town’s history is written in layers — from Roman ruins at nearby Reculver to modern wind farms gleaming offshore — but its heart remains the same: a welcoming coastal community proud of its roots, its wildlife, and its football team.