Category: England

“Welcome to Kent’s finest”

October 13 2020 – Somewhere in Kent.

As I enter the narrow lane that runs from the A206 down towards the River Thames, not far from the southern footings of the Dartford Bridge and a busy M25 interchange I feel like I have stepped back in time to yesterday, or a version of a yesterday that could have taken place any time over the last 40 years.

The outlook changed in an instant from the sunny, bright and warm morning of a minute ago to the wet, cold and dingeyness of yesterday. The high hedge on the side of the lane completely blocking the morning sun, leaving the part repaired pot hole riddled surface wet and puddled. The scrubby field and uncut grass on the opposite side of the lane will fail to allow much of the afternoon light to penetrate and bring respite to the bleakness of this short wet country lane.

I hear what sounds like gunshots. A loud crack, quickly followed by a second, then complete silence as all around appears to stop to try and confirm what was just heard. Bang…. Bang… two further loud cracks. I stop the car, turn off the music and wind down the window. Did I really hear them? Were they really gunshots or just loud bangs from the nearby quarry? I wait a couple of minutes, then earing no more I wind the window back up, but do not turn the car stereo on, and then slowly continue my journey.

__________

This is the second of two weeks off work. I needed a break and with Covid still on the scene, and getting worse, the opportunity to go travelling somewhere was not really there, and while there are places to go it was just not going to be practical or that much fun with so many restrictions. I will mostly stay home during the break; finish a bunch of chores and some minor DIY, read and listen to music. Basically relax and unwind. Just what my mind and my body need.

I did, however, book a night away in a hotel so I could explore a bunch of ruins on the Isle of Grain and then the Isle of Sheppey in Kent. I wanted to (needed to?) do some photography to help clear my mind and I like doing photography on my own. I also wanted to spend some time away from distractions to finish the first draft of a short story I have been working on.

__________

At the end of the lane where the road takes a sharp turn back into the sun’s light and warmth I find a place to stop and park the car. Back in clear blue daylight and after reading a sign where I parked the car explaining what I just heard the gloom and doom is lifted. Relief. I can at least a look around without the fear of being shot.

I am here to visit the site of the abandoned Wells Fireworks Factory. The company was setup by Joseph Wells 1837 and remained under family ownership until the 1980s when cheap Chinese imports pretty much ruined the business and it was sold. The land is now owned by Greenwich University, and has been abandoned for a long time.

There is a large number of small buildings where the fireworks were made and stored, it looks intriguing and just the sort of place that appeals to my bleak tastes.

I was sort of under the impression that the site was pretty open and you could walk around and just the buildings themselves were fenced off, however there are large barriers around the outside, complete with the usual warning signs.

It is all very overgrown and getting around inside the fence would be tough going. On the road side of the fence there seemed to be a ditch under the brambles, nettle and what appeared to bamboo and I was not prepared to venture into that to get around the back of the site.

I abandoned my plans to enter the abandoned site and just took a couple of photos from inside the gate and along the roadside and then leave. I am not very brave, even less so on my own.

I had parked my car next to the wonky and open gate to an overgrown field, with a broken down house not that far in. I don’t think it is part of the fireworks factory.

As the gate was open I went in and had a quick look, regretting not putting on the gumboots in the boot of my car as the grass was long and wet.

I chose to go round the back which was the wrong choice as, like the fireworks site, there was ditch at the back and not wanting to linger in the field any longer than necessary I left, taking a couple of photos and my wet feet with me.

Human Gatherings, a photo exhibition.

October 17 2020 – Hastings.

A few weeks back I saw a call out on a local BookFace group for people to search through their photographic archive and look for images of human gatherings for an upcoming exhibition being organised by Photo Hastings. While Hastings and St Leonards-on-Sea have escaped Covid restrictions in any major way (so far) we are covered under the England wide ‘rule of 6’ guideline that attempts to ban any sized gathering. The idea of Human Gatherings is just a memory now, but a memory that should be remembered and celebrated, while we can.

We are now not that far away from a ninth month of some sort of lock down restriction, which has meant no gigs, or any other form of entertainment. Worse than that is the thought that things like this will happen in the UK before Christmas has long been erased from any sane persons mind. I cannot foresee the date when they will eventually happen either, it all seems such a mess.

This makes me extremely jealous of New Zealand, which, at the time of writing, has Covid very much under control and life is pretty much back to normal with gigs and all other events back on again. I hope it remains like that through summer and for when we eventually return, hopefully  later next year.

I trolled though some old gig photos and submitted four to the organisers, who selected one for the exhibition; a photo from a Dan Deacon gig in Auckland in 2009, back when I was doing regular gig photos for the website that can no longer be named.

The exhibition opened three weeks ago at the Priory Meadows shopping mall in Hastings, it is on the back wall of an empty shop and is open Friday-Sunday 14:00 to 16:30. It finishes this coming weekend.

Eleanor and I popped along to have a look, and for me to chat to the organiser, local photographer and activist, Amanda Jobson. I liked it, Amanda said it has attracted a lot of visitors and local interest. There are some great photos on the wall, from a bunch of different photographers, stretching back as far as the late 80s.

It was good to be part of something in Hastings and I hope it leads to me being involved in other Photo Hastings projects.

Back to the office. (Once, hopefully not again)

September Monday/Tuesday 28/29 2020 – London.

After a very long period of procrastination I finally got around to calling my doctor about an unevenly growing mole on my leg. I was surprised that even though Covid is gaining ground in the UK again I was very quickly offered an appointment at the dermatology clinic in Whipps Cross Hospital; a 30 minute walk from our place in Walthamstow. As an aside; it seems we are now both referring to St Leonards as home, and Walthamstow is now the place we visit, a complete reversal from five months ago.

As we were going to be in London for a couple of days I elected to spend a day in the office. I am working on a procurement project and have five response documents to read, totalling almost 100 pages. With so much to process my preference is to read and annotate paper. However, I was not wanting to use my own printer; plus my printer is slow enough that I suspect they would still be printing as I write this 10 days later. I also wanted to see how many colleagues had responded to the offer to go back to the office. I was also interested to see how quiet it is in the Westminster and Regents St areas.

Eleanor and I have been very good at maintaining some work disciplines throughout this Covid event, and the alarm still goes off at 6:35. Admittedly rather than leaping (stumbling) out of bed, we do have a coffee in bed before showers, breakfast and commuting to our workspaces in different rooms of the flat. As I was going to do a proper commute we were up early and I was on the Victoria Line at 7:15, a bit earlier than I would have been in normal times. This was my third journey on the tube since March, and the first in any form of rush hour. It was OK, 95% of passengers had masks on, and most of those had the mask on properly; except of course the person next to me. When we left Walthamstow Central the carriage was only this full, by the time we had got Kings Cross all seats were taken and people were standing, though nothing like ‘normal’. There were not a lot of white collar workers, and only two others left the station with me at Pimlico.

The roads around Marsham St where my office is located were very quiet, though the queue in the Pret by the office was too long to want to go in, so I went to Leon and picked up coffee and breakfast; doing my bit for the local economy. Most of the cafes here are part of large chains and I care little for them, though they do provide jobs and I was pleased to see the young woman who made coffee in Leon before lockdown was back making coffee again. I bought lunch from a small independent Italian cafe, their coffee is not too my taste. Much as I like independents, I like coffee more and I could not be bothered to walk to the very good NZ owned coffee shop up the road.

The office was really quiet, in our area of perhaps 100 desks, four people attended during the day, including me. Our director was there and I saw some of the senior civil servants and the permanent secretary, but very few of the junior staff were in. The earlier exhortation to get staff back in the office seems to be failing; though the message that week was only come in if you really want to. To be fair to my department, they have very much pushed the message that no-one should feel compelled to attend the office.

Nothing physically has been done to make the office Covid safe, the desk layout is the same and there are no screens; however lots of process changes have been made, signs everywhere, you have to book a desk, one person per pod, two people in the bathrooms and one in the kitchenette etc; there are a lot of cleaning staff present. There were minor frustrations; signs on the lift doors asking to use hand sanitizer before entering the lift, but no sanitizer by the lifts and wipe the printers before and after use; but no wipes nearby. Naturally I did not point these out, just moaned about them. I am British after all.

I was in to print documents, so naturally the aging printer fleet that was there when I left had been replaced, so I need to install new printer drivers, register with the new service and faff, faff, faff. An hour after arriving I finally had five documents printed. It was worth it though. The printers are nice, so much better than the old ones.

I spent about six hours in the office, it was quiet and I got stuff done but it was strange being there without workmates and the office bantz.

I chose to take the tube home from Oxford Circus so I get a bit of a walk through some of the key London tourist spots. I walked past Westminster Abbey,

Horse Guards Parade,

Trafalgar Square,

Piccadilly Circus,

and up Regent Street to Oxford Street and the tube station.

There were very few people about, less than I expected, though there were  a small number tourists shopping on Regent St, which was the busiest place I walked. If I wasn’t still in the work day I would have walked through Soho as well to check that out. The mid-afternoon ride home on the tube was a lot quieter than the rush hour journey in and if felt a lot more comfortable with less people. I had bought a couple of new masks specifically for today, with adjustable straps; what a difference it made. My old elastic strapped masks hurt my ears after a few minutes, these new ones are fabulous. I guess I will buy more. Shop, shop, shop. Save the economy.

I am glad I went in to the city, it was good to see what it was like and it was good to see how I felt about it. I was not comfortable at all and I am reasonably cavalier in my attitude towards our new way of living; compared to some anyway. I won’t be rushing back in, but at least I can say I tried for myself.

My appointment at the dermatology clinic was for 9:15 and naturally it was drizzling when I left, I chose to walk as I need the exercise and it is always a nightmare parking at hospitals; though there was loads of empty spaces when I arrived. The drizzle didn’t last long and I had a mostly dry walk; though it hammered it down when I was 100 metres from the clinic.

The good news is that my weirdly growing mole looks to be fine, and its behaviour was not anything the specialist was worried, they didn’t ask for a biopsy. So Yay.

Large parts of Whipps Cross Hospital are in a terrible state, fortunately not outpatients were I had just bee. Victorian buildings, like this closed nursing quarters, and abandoned workshops with asbestos warning signs and weeds growing through cracks in the walls and roof. Our glorious government (who have been in power for 10 years and have done diddly for the NHS) have announced that 40 new hospitals will be built, though one of those ‘new’ hospitals will be a complete renovation of Whipps. It needs it.

I drove us back to St Leonards-on-Sea after work. It was good to visit London, but even better to drive back home.

August

August 2020 – St Leonards-on-Sea

Summer. Holidays. Sun (on occasion, I am in England remember) and warmth; beach, swimming, walking, relaxing, lager and rose wine, cheese and salad. Yep, we had all those things, and probably more, though photographically this post is going to be more about clouds than much else. We had some mighty fine clouds in August, and some pretty good rain at times, the inevitable result of some extremely hot days.

The more I thought about the month the more I thought the weather summed up how I was feeling. It was not a bad month, but it had its grey and heavy moments. For most of us the UK relaxed its Covid-19 lockdown rules; we can go to pubs and restaurants, we can get a haircut, we can buy books and records from proper book and record shops and pretty much everything is now open. Admittedly nothing is as open as it would be in more usual times. Masks are compulsory in shops, and bars and restaurants ask for a name and number when you arrive. I have accepted that this is the way it will be for a long time, I still need to accept that not everyone is going to abide by those rules. I am getting closer to acceptance; though still mutter under my breath. Still, it is good to be out and about.

August has been OK at work too. Things do not feel as frantic as they have done, though like the weather I sense a pending storm of demand. August is the eye in the middle of this disruptive year, with Covid-19 mostly behind us. However, the winter demands of flooding, flu and cold are on the radar and the Brexit debacle looms over a horizon that is drawing ever closer.

Some good friends of ours from Walthamstow have just bought a flat in the absolutely lovely Marine Court building. The building needs a ton of work, and the public interior is straight out of The Shining. I love it. The building was constructed in 1938 and was the tallest building in the UK at the time, it is designed to look like a cruise ship, which it does quite well. I can see it from the flat. On one of our visits I took this photo of some fantastic clouds as they moved across the sea. I am going to get a big print of this…




The Listening Ears

August 30 – Dungeness.

Ever since I read about the sound mirrors at Dungeness I have wanted to go and see them. Today I finally got out there. Dungeness is 25 miles from St Leonards, so it is not as if it is miles away and difficult to get to, as always, no excuses for not going before.

I took the coast road from Pett to Winchelsea so I could take a quick look at Pett Level. There are the remains of an ancient dead forest at the low tide line and I have been interested in seeing them. It is not low tide now, but I want to at least see where to go. I took a couple of photos as I was here.

Dungeness and its nuclear power station is just up the coast, though it looks a world away from here.

The Denge sound mirrors were the third in a series of experiments using sound to create an early warning system in times of war. The first two attempts; an in ground system and ‘sound trumpets’ were developed after the first world war, neither were particularly successful and development of both was soon stopped.

Built between 1928 and 1930 the ‘listening ears’ were designed to pick up the sound of approaching enemy aircraft and reflect it back into a microphone that was connected to operators located elsewhere. The three variations of sound mirror are here; a 30ft and a 20ft circular mirror and a 200ft by 26ft curved wall. The smallest being built first. They were of limited success, easily detecting the slow moving aircraft that were common before they were built, but as technology moved on and aircraft got faster their use faded. Eventually they were replaced by new the fangled radar technology and development was abandoned in 1939. There are a couple of other sound mirrors further up the Kent coast near Hythe.

The sound mirrors are to be found behind the village of Greatstone, a couple of miles up the road from Dungeness itself. They are located on an island in a small lake that forms part of a RSPB (Royal Society for Protection of Birds) reserve. I was planning on walking around the lake; getting a bit of exercise as well as seeing things from different perspectives, which is something I like to do. It was not going to be easy, or ultimately even achievable.

The lake is a couple of hundred metres wide and a kilometre or so long. The first ‘side’ was not too bad, mainly pebbles, which is a pain to walk on, but at least you can walk on them. I got my first glance of the sound mirrors and they are pretty cool.

As I made my way around the back of the lake the going got tougher with the pebbled ground overgrown with grasses, scrubby bushes, brambles and thistle. I was beating an ever more erratic path around the denser patches of the scratching prickly scrub. I was wearing long trousers but was not particularly prepared for this kind of scrub and I could feel the brambles catching my skin through the cotton. I was mostly enjoying the walk as doing something with even a mild hint of adventure was a great change from the mundanity of my day to day.

I managed to get to the back of the sound mirrors, but stupidly lost my sunglasses when I was taking photos. At least they were only the cheap plastic ones I leave in the car, so not a financial loss, but annoying all the same. I need to be more careful with things. I tried to find them once I realised they were gone, but I could not find the exact location I stood to take the photos.

I tried to carry on round the lake and made it a bit further along before the scrub just got too dense and too tall to easily push through and I could not see a clear path ahead. With no way around without going way back and then out into the farmland, I reluctantly turned back. It was easier going back through the paths I had made as I pushed through on the way in.

Once back, passed where I had started and at the front of the lake I made my way to the causeway that goes quite close to the mirrors. On special days (pre-Covid) there are organised tours that cross to the island; but realistically this was close enough to see, especially with the 70-200mm lens. It would have been good to have been able to stand in front of the big mirror and see if I could hear anything reflected back. Unlike the far side of the lake there were a few people at the viewing point, I guess not everyone is as adventurous, or stupid as I am.

I had also packed the Polaroid.

On my slow stroll back to the car I stood on some dog poo; fortunately I was still by the lake so was able to wash it all off, walking back with a wet foot was less fun, but better than stinking out the car. I was hoping there was not going to be a third, minor, misfortune today. Though I guess I could say the 90 minutes it took to drive the 25 miles back home was not exactly fortunate!

I love that these listening ears and their cousins in Hythe are still standing, and that there is real interest in preserving these wonderful reminders of our inquisitive nature; and our ability (for some people at least) to learn from apparent failure.

Back on the Tube.

Monday 10 August 2020 – London.

It has finally happened. The inevitability we were going to face one day; the dreaded journey into the belly of the beast, into the hell heat depths of London; AKA the Tube, the underground. We have not been on the Tube or any other public transport in London since early March, and I cannot believe that that was five months ago. Naturally it is over 30 degrees today and the Tube is even more terrible than normal in this heat. However we are not living in normal times and we did not have to travel during, what makes up, the rush hour in these early post lockdown days. That was at least one small mercy.

Eleanor has to complete a medical as part of the New Zealand partner visa application process and the only place in London that the embassy recognises is in Knightsbridge. Naturally.

I have taken three days off work so we could come up to London, and then we could go to the medical together. Tomorrow we will be attending an online funeral service to farewell a good friend of ours. Sadly this is not a holiday trip. I will drive back down on Wednesday and Eleanor will follow later in the week.  It is brutally hot at the moment, day three of a heat wave, that have temperatures in the mid 30s, it was much nicer by the sea than in London. Even the flat was pretty warm on Friday night, last night in London was awful, and tonight is going to be even hotter.

It is now mandatory to wear a mask on public transport and in stations, so we made sure we had those packed before we left to take the underground from Walthamstow to Knightsbridge. As is the norm we left far too early, or were cautious, depending on your point of view. Walthamstow Central was pretty quiet, a good start.

Not everyone was wearing a face covering on the train, as expected I guess, and we did move seats when someone sat down opposite us with no mask on. These are not normal times. Changing trains at Finsbury Park we got on the Piccadilly Line which was a lot quieter.

With so few tourists around the big stations like Leicester Square and Hyde Park were almost deserted, it is quite eerie, though less people around is not unpleasant in this heat.

We stopped for lunch in a small cafe near the doctors rooms in Knightsbridge, a small Italian, and I am guessing, family run for a long time type of place. I really liked it and the coffee and meatball sandwich I had were great. It is my type of cafe.

The doctors rooms in Knightsbridge was slightly different to the doctors room in Walthamstow.

I left Eleanor to her appointment and went out for a walk, I was advised to give it an hour, though Eleanor called me after thirty minutes to say it was done, and all good so far. I am glad it was not the whole hour as it was so hot outside and naturally I had not used sun block and my hats were at the flat, I could feel the skin on my face shriveling under the intense gaze of the sun.

Even the hoardings around the building sites are of a different class to what I am used to…

I crossed the road outside Harvey Nichols and was surprised/not surprised at the lack of people, and particularly the lack of traffic. It is always hideously busy through here and the pollution is awful. But not today, long may this remain!

I was very close to Hyde Park so decided to take my walk there, I have not visited much since that period at the end of 2012 and start of 2013 when I was house sitting Phil’s flat in She Bu and frequently walked the royal parks. I don’t recall seeing it this dry, or empty. I kind of liked it like this, even I was better prepared for the sun I think it would have been more enjoyable.

I stopped to take some photos of the one flower bed I found, though it was very much in need of some water, me too, though I had had the foresight to bring some.

I walked around the Serpentine and was just enjoying a very refreshing ice cream when Eleanor rang to advise her appointment was done. The ice cream started melting, running over my fingers as we spoke, though we only talked for a few short seconds.

We met back in the Tube station and had a very hot, but uneventful journey back to Walthamstow. Hopefully that will be the last Tube ride for a while…

When we back up in Walthamstow ten days ago we had drinks for Eleanor’s birthday at Orford Road Social Club, which we had joined in February. A number of our friends are members and it is a cheap place to go for a drink, they also have a bowling club which seems to be the new thing for our social group. Some of us a had a bowl while we were there, which I very much enjoyed, and surprisingly I was not too bad.

As we were having one for the road back inside the building we heard the terrible news that Doug, one of our group, had succumbed to a virulent cancer he had been fighting for a few short months. Doug was our age and leaves a wife and two university aged children. He was a lovely man, with a great sense of humour and great taste in music and will be missed very much.

His funeral is tomorrow and because of covid related restrictions we are all going to be watching a live stream of the funeral at a friends house, followed by a drink or two in Doug’s honour. It is terribly sad.

Rest in Rock n Roll Dave ‘Doug’ Douglas.  (Kingsdown Beach 2019)

The MV Amsterdam.

Wednesday 22 July 2020 – St Leonards-On-Sea.

Tips of the wooden rib cage of the MV Amsterdam spearing out of the sand of Bylverhythe beach is what I expected to see as I strolled sand exposed by the receding tide on this heavily pebbled beach. I saw nothing but sea, shingle, sand, rock banks; both man and nature made, dogs, dog walkers and families, and the deserted equipment of a fisherman no longer in sight. I carried on my hunt.

Checking my watch as I reached the end of the beach I realised there were still 15 more minutes to low tide. I paused briefly, before turning my back to the setting sun and walking back in the direction of St Leonards and home, stopping when I reached the point where I thought the wreck was buried. Peaking out of the almost full low tide I spot wood not stone and know I have found my objective.

The MV Amsterdam set sail from Amsterdam in January 1749 on her maiden voyage, bound for the Dutch colony in Java, Indonesia. It didn’t get very far, caught in a storm and losing her rudder in Pevensey Bay, it foundered on Bulverhythe Beach, St Leonards. 8 years later the wreck had been swallowed by the sand, leaving an almost intact hull buried, supposedly full of goodies. It has lain there ever since.

I spent the next 30 minutes pretty much in the same spot, taking the occasional photo as the tide continued to go out, hoping that the tide would recede enough to just leave sand and the exposed rib tips.

Others wandered past, some stopping to take a photo on their phone, others seemingly wondering why I was just standing there in the setting sun, camera in hand.

The outline did not fully reveal itself, even at the full low tide. I need to come back when that low tide line is even lower than tonight’s.

It was nice to be out my camera, inspired to take it out after a visit from friends last week. While I didn’t get the image that I wanted I did get to enjoy myself, and took some photos on the way.

Visitors

Friday 17 July 2020 – Bexhill and St Leonards-on-Sea.

Exciting news this week. The desk and the office chair I ordered online both arrived, and the best bit was I liked them both. This gave me the opportunity to do a little rearrange of the sitting room, putting the desk where I had the record cabinet. The room feels better balanced now, and I like working at the desk, it feels good. Hopefully an inspiration to write more.

After a few days of not such good weather we finally had a decent couple of days in row. Nice. Much as I like being here in any weather a nice bit of sun, matched with a gentle sea breeze is all the nicer. We decided to do something we have not done since 8 March. Take some public transport, and catch a train. It was strange to be thinking of these things after so long.

Six minutes down the line is Bexhill. Not the longest journey, but it is better to break the ice in a small and stress free way. Though naturally the train we planned to get was cancelled and the next one was 11 minutes late. Signal failure. Situation normal. It felt good. Wearing masks is now mandatory on public transport, though it is not policed. As our train slowly pulled into St Leonards Warrior Square station from Hastings I looked at the small number of people in the first few carriages, mostly not wearing masks. Our carriage was almost empty and the other passengers were masked up, as were we. The message regarding wearing masks on public transport is out there, some people just do not care.

I took a couple of photos on my phone out of the carriage as we moved along, trying to recapture a little of the project I started before lockdown taking photos out of train windows, though missing the mark a bit.

I don’t mind Bexhill; like Eastbourne it has an older population that Hastings and St Leonards, but in every other way it is more like St Leonards, a little faded, jaded and run down, but with some interesting shops. Not that we were thinking of going to the shops.

We were thinking of going to De La Warr Pavilion to see if there was coffee on offer, but it was all closed up. Though interestingly (to me alone) the little record booth that was inside the pavilion was open on the outside and I must admit I was tempted to go visit. I have been very well behaved in the past couple of weeks, certainly in comparison to the early part of lockdown when I bought a few records more than I should. Working at the flat all day, sitting next to the record player as I have a lot more time to play them, none of the purchases are wasted. I like records.

The walk from Bexhill to St Leonards takes about an hour and a half, and is mostly taken right along the shore line, it is a lovely walk and one I could do any time, especially if we stop for lunch at the vegetarian/vegan Bathing Hut Cafe. Today I had the halloumi burger, which was as good as the full English I had last time.

On Thursday we had our first Walthamstow visitors to the flat, Caroline and Andy, and they were staying the night, which was fabulous. I took Friday off work so I could the day with them. They arrived after work and we immediately packed up and went for a walk to the recently reopened pier. We were hoping for food, but none of the new food huts were there or open so we just stayed for a drink in the late afternoon sun. The pier company has recently tendered the running of the pier to an events company, so there are loads of socially distant tables in a huge beer garden. It was nice to be out and even nicer to be out with good friends.

Andy had recently bought a new camera and brought it along, a full frame Sony. It looks amazing and he loves it, he should know he is a professional tog.

We walked into Hastings to look for food and ended up buying takeout Thai from a street stall and beer and wine from the pub over the way, then eating them on the street watching the world go by. It was a really nice night out, The noodles were excellent and walking home in the dark, through the lit Bottle Alley was really enjoyable.

On Friday we walked down to Bathing Hut Cafe for brunch, and to introduce our guests to the vegan offerings close to home, I had the quesadilla which was as good as the last two things, it is my favourite day time eating place that is certain. After eating we walked in to and around Hastings Old Town, showing our guests the delights of Old Saints Street before stopping for a drink outside one of the bars in George St.

We eventually ended up at Farmyard Cafe for an early evening dinner, ending what was a really enjoyable 24 hours with close friends. Hopefully the start of others coming down to visit, or maybe buy something to…

To mirror the new desk inspiring more writing at the start of this post, Andy’s photos and use of his big camera was an inspiration to get out more and use mine, or at least take a photo from the bedroom window.

Memorial, by Phlegm

Sunday 29 July 2020 – Walthamstow.

As soon as we decided to go to work and stay at my place in St Leonards for a few weeks, my favourite street artist came to Walthamstow to paint some doors. Typical.

I have been a fan of the work of the, primarily, Sheffield based artist, Phlgem for quite some time. I remember trying to find one of his pieces in Sri Lanka when I was there in 2013. There are plenty of great murals all over London to make up for not finding that particular one. There is a fabulous large piece at the end of Walthamstow High Street, and an earlier wall has sadly been painted over, but he does have a history in this area, living in Wanstead for a short period. It was quite exciting to know there has been further work added to the growing collection of high quality street art in Walthamstow.

Now that restrictions are slowly being relaxed and shops are opening Eleanor wanted to come back to visit her hairdresser and for us to spend time with family. I took that opportunity to organise a walk to Blackhorse Lane to check out the paintings, which are possibly called Memorial. It is painted on the doors of the indoor climbing centre Yonder. I loved it, as always.

Photos below. Fabulous as always.

Eastbourne.

Sunday 05 July 2020 – Eastbourne.

The day started like most others this past week; grey low cloud, drizzle and high wind. Coffee in bed seemed like the right thing to do; immediately followed by a second coffee in bed. We made it out of bed just before 9 for an enjoyable video call with my sister in New Zealand. During the hour we were online the rain stopped, the cloud was blown away by the strong wind; clearing the sky. A nice day beckoned. It was time to make the planned, yet to be achieved trip to Eastbourne, a 30 minute drive along the coast.

I last passed through Eastbourne in Jan 2018 when I took a walk along the cliff tops to Burling Gap. I vaguely recall visiting as a child in the 1970s, though that is as likely to be a false memory as it is true. Eleanor has been twice before, and it rained both times. We both wanted to visit on a sunny day.

I parked as soon as I found a spot within an easy walk of the yet to re-open pier. It is very windy.

As we walked towards the pier we came across an oddly shaped white beach hut, which turned out to be shaped as a tooth, and is a memorial to Beachy Head Lady, with this message on it;

‘Along this coast near Beachy Head a young woman of sub-Sarahan African origin was buried one thousand eight hundred years ago. She spent most of her life thriving on a diet rich in the fruits of the sea and from fertile downland fields. Her story is recorded in chemicals hidden within her teeth and in her fragile bones. But how or why she arrived on the shores to make a new home so long ago will probably remain a mystery.’ I really liked this message and it intrigued me enough to try to found out more; as every good message should.

Beachy Head Lady is thought to be the oldest known person from sub-Saharan Africa to be found in the United Kingdom. It is not known when her remains were originally found, though they were recently rediscovered in the museum in a box marked 1956-1959. Further information on the original discovery remain quite sparse, which adds somewhat to the mystery. I chose to not dig much further. Mysteries are good.

It is a funny old day, as many have been in these barely re-opened post-Covid emergency days. It is a sunny, though windy, summer Sunday. There are a few people about, but not as many as expected. The shopping areas are mainly open, so places for people to go. There is an air of reluctance and tension in the air, as well as a touch of the ‘she’ll be right mate’ attitude you get from those who think Brexit is a good idea and social distancing is stupid. I did not see a lot of masks being worn, though they are yet too made mandatory in England.

We walked along the front, past the pier and the place where the street drinkers were gathered in a vaguely intimidating fashion when I was here last time. I don’t remember anything specific, but I knew I was very keen to use the public toilet and they were all bunched outside and I walked for ages till I got to the downs before finding an appropriately unpublic tree. The things you remember.

We walked as far as the Martello Tower where we stopped for a hot chocolate and sat in the sun feeling like our skin was being peeled from our faces by the sun and the wind. The hot chocolate was very nice, as was the Martello Tower and its little peace garden.

Leaving the tower we were walking in the direction of the Towner Gallery when the wind whipped the camera strap that was not around my neck or any other useful (or useless) part of my body and tore the camera from my hand, cracking the rear screen when it hit the ground. Damn. Three camera in three years; all broken by me not being careful enough. Lucking the camera still works,  and it has a viewfinder, though I have to use auto mode as the screen displays(ed) the exposure settings. I could at least take some more photos today.

Auto mode does not suit my style, and with three small scratches on the lens, it is now time to replace the camera. A choice I did not want to have to make again after the stress of finding and buying the small Panasonic GX800 last year, a camera I have not really learnt to love. It may be time to sell that as well and buy a single replacement. Choices and decisions. I hate them both.

The Towner Gallery is fabulous. I have seen photos and read about it, and it was a pleasure to see it at last, I love the look of it, so funky and modern. Sadly it was still closed, but it opening in a couple of weeks, a good reason to come back to Eastbourne.

We picked up lunch from a Mexican food cart, in a very un-social distant queue, not many people wearing masks either. My nachos were tasty, there was an awful lot, though the chips were stale which was a good thing really. They went in the bin, not that I like wasting food!

We walked along the sea front for a while, stopping for an ice cream in a faded little park with a faded little tea-shop and then walked back to the car and I drove us home.

Mission accomplished. A day out to Eastbourne and it wasn’t raining.