Closer to home

Bored I decided the snooker match I'd been following had reached its conclusion so I needed fresh air. A pulled calf muscle required a gentle stroll so, flask of coffee in hand I drove to a local village and pulled over in a lay-by on its outskirts.

Nothing fancy but a good stop off point where the car would be out the way and parking wouldn't be challenged.

I've driven through Hadlow for years rarely looking to left nor right save to make sure it's safe to proceed. 

Today I decided, if the calf muscle wanted a stretch then I'd wander into the village and back and be thoroughly nosy whilst doing it......I'd forgotten just how busy the road is!

The village itself is old, and is recorded in the Doomsday book as Haslow. 

In 795 ad the village was Saxon and where the much larger and quite ornate parish church (with a peel of 6 bells( is now standing, was a small, unasumming wooden church. It was an important centre, probably situated on the road linking north Kent to its southerly coast. Tonbridge,  which is not far away was a navigable river and many of the commodities where moved in barges up to there for distribution. It is possible this village was the first stop north.

According to Kent records;

"In 1786, Walter May inherited the manor house, Hadlow Court Lodge, which he demolished and built Hadlow Castle, in an ornate, Gothic style. Upon inheriting the castle his son, also Walter, built 170 feet high folly, which lightning damaged in 1987.."

Since then it's been restored using public donations, opening for a week each year to raise funds for its upkeep and be a local tourist attraction.

Sadly,  it is has now fallen into private hands and is closed to everyone. At one time it was hoped to open it on an extremely expensive 'holiday let' but I'm not convinced there would be many takers....far too expensive.

 From what I remember of my history, there was somewhat of a tit for tat going on between land owners; who had the highest tower. This spat had raged between parishes too and church spires punched ever higher toward heaven.

Anyway, this folly was built with one room per floor and a very narrow spiral staircase going to the top. The gardens around it are small, but magnificent. I was lucky to get in on one of the very last open days before its sale and went to the top floor. Magnificent views.

Many of the buildings around the church and folly are half timbered. There are numerous stable blocks and coach houses, which, although renovated into homes, are still visible. 

One thing I didn't realise was the spring or stream running along the side of the road. I followed it; never deep but probably a torrent during that very wet spell we had. Thinking about it, if this was a small hamlet and a coach stop then fresh water would be a great boon so a stream running through would make this location perfect.

It must remain quite wet all year round as the typical stream bank plants grew in abundance.

Sad to think within 20 feet of this verdant carpet was a busy main road pumping its exhaust fumes everywhere.

So, now I'm back at the lay-by enjoying my coffee. The traffic is relentless but the view over the fields is lovely.

Ooh, was that a woodcock I just heard over the roar of the HGV just rolling through?

Isle of Sheppey and contemplating a camper

 

Leaving the groins behind at Minster we headed down the coast towards Eastchurch coming across large piles of dead trees and shrubbery which would have occupied the banks above. Twisted metal, old fishing lines and plastic hung like Christmas baubles giving it an eerie sense of life in the afterworld.

If there is one place I am slowly falling in love with its the Isle of Sheppey. I realise many before me have enjoyed its beaches and its bird watching, especially at the marshes in Iwade, but I have a very special friend who lives there and to be honest, although I have often gone to visit, we have rarely gone out to explore. So, it was decided during one of our many phone calls and with packed lunches, black coffee, cameras and sound recording equipment we set off.

It must have looked odd, one person in cam jacket and track suit bottoms carrying a black bucket with me, also in tatty track suit bottoms, old horse riding jacket, sporting a back pack, walking purposely towards the far reaches of the beach.

Yep, the original odd couple vanishing down the beach, but we had an aim, the sunken second world war barges which had been sunk in a relatively straight line to act as a sea groin.

Over the years the barges have begun to break down and that valuable, somewhat radioactive metal is rusting back into Nature.

The tall marker posts indicating the site of the barges. The beach around here is really nice and there is evidence of lug worms taking up residence in the very silty sand.Numerous birds inhabit this area as the tide goes out and they filter the mud for small crustaceans and seaweed.

 

The first in the row of rusting hulks. Once responsible for the safety of tanks, troups and vehicles of war, now their radioactive metal is rusting back into the ground.

 
 The weather was deceptive; being April, the sun shone brightly but the wind whipped round the headland and was so cold it bit into my ears and robbed me of hearing unless I turned my head. Still, it was fabulous to be out and what we saw confirmed why the cliffs at Eastchurch are giving way so quickly.

As we left Sheerness beach we stepped over numerous flint laden gullies which funneled the surface water toward land drains and these in turn, carried the water out into the sea. They are dug at regular intervals and have given a chance for the cliffs to become more stable, dry out and develop some sort of plant covering with the result they also soak up some of that excess water which runs in rivulets out of the ground.

There is also a shallow sea wall which will break the advancement of Spring and Autumn tides and the vagaries of the worst of the winter storms. Regular groins slow the sideways advancement of the silt and break the waves as they approach the pebble beach. All in all, Sheerness is well maintained and has adequate sea defenses for the present time. 

Go further along the beach, past the beach huts and the end of the sea front and you start to encounter beach without prevention. 

The fragile, silty beds of compressed alluvial deposits are open to the sea and all it can throw at it. All that breaks the waves onslaught are these barges and the marker posts. Slowly, the sea is reclaiming this part of the island and possibly heading back to the Saxon shoreline. 

The beach at Eastchurch with the corner of a collapsed 2WW pillbox showing. This will have come down from the cliffs above during one of the collapses which, by the looks of the seaweed, happened a while ago. What appears to be headland is a cliff collapse which happened some time ago and there is still enough soil above the sea for some of the plants to stay alive.

I suspect this is more recent evidence of landslide activity; an old 60s TV, at one time someone's pride and joy. There was a car strewn in pieces and rusting to nothing as well as old plant pots, trees, shrubs, garden walls and other fripperies from homes which did not go under the hammer, more like, slipped out of sight.

Regardless of the losses, to the land above, this is a lovely stretch of shoreline. As I said as we were coming back, this will be the only time we will see this stretch of the beach looking exactly like this because the waves will pound at the collapses each and every day taking more of the alluvial silt back and walking it down the beach towards the deep-water channel up to Tilbury and Sheerness docks itself.

 
 

Not quite but the holiday surely tried its hardest that year

 

It was the start of a new term in the UK so I headed off to a place I knew well but stayed in a hotel only viewed from the outside....up until now.

Until recently I had stopped at the flat owned by Mrs Fry at the other end of the bay in Torreblanca. I wanted a change and had seen the Hotel Angela as I had walked along the bay to the supermarket and Las Ramblas for a coffee and a slice of their fresh cream cake studded with fresh fruit and clear jelly. Delightful.

I suspect I had only been there a matter of a day at the most so as to gain the best prices from the sudden, and quite dramatic seasonal drop in prices, but already the temperatures were soaring and the beach was hot, hot, hot!

The beaches this end are more popular with families as it's close to the ice cream, Mac Donald's and the like, but I liked it because it was closer to the harbour, and that was somewhere I always enjoyed walking (when it was cooler that is).

I had been in the sea and on the beach for most of the day and was on my way back to the hotel. Hot and sweaty, I really fancied a shower and then retire for a few hours by the pool with a cool glass of something. Later I would take a stroll to the Chinese supermarket and pick up a can of Coke Zero and sit on the sea wall so as to watch the world go by. 

Not so long ago we were enjoying temperatures similar to this, here, in the UK. I was lying in a paddling pool designed for dogs (plastic a great deal more sturdy and to be honest good fun). My outlook this year was of bees and bumbles buzzing around the annuals in my garden bed and listened to my neighbours as they carried on with their lives.

I smiled, I knew where I would rather be and closing my eyes imagined myself lying in the shallows on the beach in Fuengirola, Puerto Cruz, Teguise or on the island of Fuerteventura.

Teguise beach, chasing fish

So much came flooding back...

 My house resembles a travelogue of places visited; I print them off on ordinary photocopy paper and paste them on my walls. It's a lovely way to permanently live my holidays, but even I can't display all the places and all the memories.

I also have a series of slides running as the background on my desk computer which change every ten seconds and it was during one of these I noticed a series of photographs I had completely forgotten.

 

Taken in 2016, I was on my way down to the beach for an early stroll before I had a decent coffee at the cafe along the bay.

As I took my usual route, along the river overflow, I came across a herd of goats happily grazing. Although you can't see them here, the chickens were there too with their accompanying cockerel keeping a watchful eye.

He saw me before I saw them to be honest and gave the alarm call. The hens gathered their chicks together and scurried under the nearest caster oil plant whilst the cockerel gave a menacing eye.

Being polite I skirted him and his precious group, moving quietly among the goats, who, I would add, were not in the least bit interested in me.

It reminded me of when my mother and I had come to Tenerife all those years ago and had had to shoo goats out of the way to get to the beach even then. 

I emerged from under the roadway bridge and entered the gardens; my first sight of the sea in all her glory; she was calm that day and I knew later I would be in there, enjoying the spray and the waves.

My eyes filled with the sights of Puerto Cruz, I could smell the air and hear the buzz of the bees, the crash of the waves on the black, shingle beach; what a memory to relive.

A cow and a fold up umbrella

 If there's one iconic memory which comes to mind everytime it rains or I go to collect my umbrella just in case, it's the Ale Hop cow.

It started out as a beautiful day, and by 09:30 temperatures were already moving into the 80s . I knew it was going to be a lovely one for the beach but checking my phone, I noted thunderstorms were possible later that afternoon. 

I fancied a walk first and that much-needed coffee, so wandered down to the small Ale Hop outlet not far from where I was staying and picked up one of their folding umbrellas for €8 and returned to the beach via a lovely little café for a much needed shot of caffeine.

So beach, setup, strip off, swim, stand and drip for a while and then doze in the increasingly hazy sunshine. I patted my bag knowing the recent purchase would probably be in use very shortly. I hadn't reckoned on just heavily the rain would fall, however.

Suddenly, I became aware the seagulls had quieted and the sea itself had calmed, almost muted in its waves. Opening my eyes to this change in Nature's reaction,  I looked back toward the mountains and watched thick,  black clouds rolling down towards the sea.

I'd spotted it before many other sun worshippers and they watched somewhat bemused by my springing into action; top clothes back on, pack the towel and beach wear away, take out the umbrella and walk quickly back up the beach. 

Within minutes of me stepping onto the pavement the heavens opened and we were presented with a truly tropical storm. Rain fell like curtains and the paths were like rivers within minutes. Water cascaded onto the beach and turned the hot, black sands into a soggy mud, clogging wheels on children's buggies.

I watched, brollie already up, as the people who'd stared at me moments before, scrambled to gather their stuff, throwing wet, sandy towels into bags, top clothes wet, children crying, buggies stuck, people laden with "stuff" too wet to do anything with. 

All scrambling up the beach attempting to move against the soggy landslide of sand as they sunk into it. Children screaming, people fighting to get everything up a narrow flight of steps, getting stuck, getting soaked, children crying louder as they are now wet through and getting cold.....mothers shouting, fathers yelling, hunting for car keys. Boots opening, belongings thrown in, doors opening and screaming, crying children pushed inside, still in beachwear with black sandy feet and hands. Inwardly I grinned.

Today, I packed the brollie into my bag and remembered; that was last year.....what a different year that was.

A cartoon with many memories

When I was travelling alone to the flat in Torreblanca I relied on the television for company in the evenings.

Most of it was in Spanish and I desperately wanted light relief from feeling lonely and feeling overheated. It was a big flat and was on the top floor of a block mainly occupied by Spanish families with a few flats still in the hands of UK residents who would come over for 3 or 4 months at a time. I was fortunate as the two flats on the same floor as me were invariably empty when I came. The families had children and were in the UK enjoying term time, rather than on holiday, so the place was eerily quiet.

Very little of the TV was in English as I said but there were two channels I loved; it didn't matter I didn't understand the words, I could follow it like a toddler, by watching the action in the cartoons.

 

Since the old lady who owned the flat died, I've not been back and I'm not even sure the family still own the property, but when I came across this cartoon, memories of the flat came flooding back.

Some of them were good, the beach only a matter of 5 minutes away, the corner shop where I was able to get my immediate needs and the supermarket, along the sea front, where I could get a bus back with a full load of shopping to see me through the week. 

Catching the bus, remembering the adage 'Number 1 is not the one',  up to the shopping centre on the outskirts of town and wandering down by the river to another beach which never seemed to be as crowded as those closer into town.

I remember sitting watching a cartoon and being aware of a cockroach with hobnailed boots running across the living room floor and taking ages to be caught and killed. Cleaning out the kitchen because a plague of ants had come up the pipework under the sink. The awful smell of sewers because the heat of the day had evaporated the water in the toilet traps, sink traps or bath and allowed the smell to seep back.

I remember the ability to go out when I wanted and sit on the balcony all day if  wished. The very efficient air con throughout the house and having to empty the big water containers and send the excess water down the sinks, toilets and bath.

I remember the frogs croaking into the night in the creek which ran down the side of the block and looking out on a lovely pool, surrounded by bougainvillea, Seville orange and oleander trees.

I watched an Olympics out there, a major athletics competition and numerous other high level sporting events, all in German or Spanish.

It was a beautiful flat and I have many really good memories of being out there; all brought back because I saw a cartoon on the Freeview channel, YAAS  for the under fives.

Sleepy tranquility, a place to hire a car

The ship docked, but I had had a ring side seat watching the island come into view. Slowly rising from the sea, steep cliffs gave way to inlets and caves which appeared deserted. The mists of morning were still rising but the sky was leaden and although we were in the Canaries, the day did not look promising.

So we berthed alongside and after the obligatory wait to clear customs, we were given the all clear to disembark. I couldn't wait. The town nestled into the valley between two sets of imposing hills and I was intrigued by it. There really wasn't enough of it to get lost in so I wandered and it was glorious.

The tower illustrated in the magnet is called Torre del Conde, and was one of the first buildings I saw. Sitting in  its own small garden, it was really interesting and the ironwork, impressive. It dates back to the 1400s and is the remnants of a fortress, which, I presume, was created to fight off pirates.

I wanted to see it all and we were only stopping until about 16:00 so I had a shorter day than usual; I had to be back at the latest 15:30 and that would be pushing it as that's when the gangway is lifted.

So, cardigan on, camera out, I headed into the town square....via the beach because I just had to have a paddle. I wish I had longer, this is an island I would hire a car. Google told me of a day trip to see the island and it looked fabulous.

• Parque Natural Majona; a rugged natural park featuring forests, rivers and endangered animals.
• Torre del Conde; 14the century fortress tower
• Archaelogical museum of La Gomera
• Roque de Agando; 4,100 ft volcanic rock jutting out of the jungle, with nature trails around its base
• Garajonay National Park; wildlife rich, anchient laurel forest nature reserve with nature trails and a visitors centre
• Playa Valle Gran Rey; a beautiful beach on which to chill out

Sadly, I was too early to hire a car, I didn't have my driving license with me and the tour would have been too long for our stop....never mind.

So I waited in the town square with a cup of coffee and watched as the market set up and opened, the buskers came out to serenade the tourists and examples of the specialised whistling which allowed people to whistle conversations from one hill top to another was explained by people dressed in full Canarian costume.

I may not have made the tour of the island, but I had a wonderful morning and afternoon in San Sebastian, looking around the market, the back streets and of course the small fishing port.