Deborah Harvey : The Red Dress of Poetry ...

Thursday, 15 April 2021

Along the cliff edge

Kilve is a favourite place, and since we were newly allowed, we decided to visit to mark Son the Younger's birthday. Of course, the pub was shut, so we sat on the very edge of the cliff, swinging our legs, and had a picnic instead.

I should add that the bit of the cliff we were sitting on was about three foot above the level of the beach. It soon gets higher, and becomes unsafe anywhere near the edge, of course.

It hard to see here, but those are not all pebbles; some of them are people - in fact, Kilve beach was more crowded than I'd ever seen it, probably because of a combination of it being the Easter holidays/a beautiful sunny day/just after the lifting of the lockdown. I'm certainly feeling the urge to visit a few of my favourite places, to keep the days in my pocket and look at them during any future lockdown. I'm not sure the vaccination is going to be magic wand we wish it to be.

In view of the busyness, we decided to take a walk along the top of the cliffs, and since most people head south-west towards East Quantoxhead with its church and picturesque duck pond, rather than north-east towards Hinkley Point nuclear power station, we decided a change of route was in order.

It was too hazy to see more than an intimation of the coast of Wales, but we could just make out Steep Holm to the north-north-east, and every now and then there was a flash of the area's fascinating littoral rock formations.

There were also several reminders of the locality's history and geography, in the form of old pillboxes.

We also spotted what we thought from a distance might be a lighthouse or a WWII lookout, but which turned out to be an observation tower, part of the Royal Navy Aircraft Range - apparently, this part of the coast is still used as an air gunnery practice range for helicoptors.

It wasn't all military stuff, though ... I saw several pairs of stonechats ...

... my first swallow of 2021, quite a sizeable patch of cowslips, of which this is just a small corner ...

... and some far more ubiquitous, far more pungent alexanders.

Eventually we got to within a couple of miles of Hinkley Point C. When it filled the lens of my camera, I decided that was close enough. I still find it hard to believe we didn't switch to renewable energy sources after Chernobyl. (No, wait, I don't.)

I felt happier heading in the opposite direction, even though Bristol is well within the 80km evacuation zone in the event of a Fukushima-style event in the Bristol Channel.

All along the cliff there are what look like enticing little paths but which actually lead abruptly to the shore, some eighty-odd feet below, so Cwtch was kept on the lead so she could learn about the edges of things in safety.

Back at Kilve, we resumed our spot on the cliff edge for a bit, and then made our way to the Chantry Tea Rooms, where we queued for takeaway ice cream, eaten in the car park, and very lovely it was too.

A moment to admire my first flowering garlic of the season, and take a few photos of a tired but really quite photogenic little collie, and it was time to go home. A lovely day to bank against the less good ones.

Wednesday, 7 April 2021

Up North, Down South and Good Luck Poo

With the lifting - just a little - of the lockdown, Son the Elder arranged a trip for us to Minsterworth, just outside Gloucester, where he needed to pick up a purchase from off eBay, and to Gloucester Cathedral, where he was meeting his friend Tom for the handover of acting DVDs. It was only going to be a flying visit, but I was glad of the chance of getting out of Bristol for a couple of hours, as well as giving my new-to-me car a bit of a run.

So here's Gloucester Cathedral ...

... and some ghost signage on Berkeley Street ...

... and 99 - 101 Westgate Street, which building dates from c1500 and is said to be the last lodging of Bishop Hooper before his execution by burning at the stake in St Mary's Square on 9th February 1555.

When I got back to the car, I noticed a bird had christened my car with some poo, which I took as a good luck sign.

Today I was off again - this time with the Northerner and Cwtch the collie - to Uphill, where I was due to get my second dose of Pfizer vaccine at Weston General. Immediately afterwards, we headed to Berrow beach so that Cwtch could get her first taste of the sea proper (her recent visits to Portishead notwithstanding).

Upon arrival it was clear that the powers-that-be at Burnham and Berrow golf club had been brandishing industrial-sized secateurs and diggers during the enforced shut down, much like at the local golf club. For a start, there was a pill box I'd never seen before ...

... and much of the lovely tunnelling footpath through the dunes had been ripped open and the sky let in.

The pussy willows lining the reedbeds were lovely, though, and the ascent and descent to the beach was as exciting as ever.

As luck would have it, the tide was so far out that Cwtch still didn't encounter the sea ...

... though she did get her first taste of the beach.

We didn't walk too far as the Northerner has been recovering from something narsty (albeit not in the woodshed) and I was being careful on account of my jab. It was enough to be at Berrow with our eyes on ... well, more or less the same horizon as up the meadow, actually, but from a very different angle.

It was sandy enough to walk out to the wreck of the SS Nornen too, which was as photogenic as ever, with no need to dodge the sinkinny sands and mud.

A different dog that is ours with us on this visit, though - and she couldn't quite contain her surprise and delight that such a place exists, even if the sand looks better than it tastes and the water is salty.

There are even sticks, which are one of Cwtch's favourite things. (Ted was only interested in balls.)

Time to go back through the sand dunes and around the marshes ...

... and past the little white bench with its views of Brent Knoll and Crook Peak ...

... and through the churchyard of St Mary's with its cowslips and dead nettles ...

... to the car which once again had been anointed with good luck poo.

I did start to wonder if you could have too much good luck poo, so when a muck spreader pulled out in front of me between Berrow and Burnham-on-Sea, I decided to keep well back, just in case.

Monday, 5 April 2021

Whatever gets you through the lockdown, or A year up the meadow

It's been a year since I finally walked along the footpath over the top of the local golf course with Son the Elder - having been driven off at the age of ten by an angry but factually incorrect golfer - and discovered the meadow with its hollowing oak, sunsets and views to the Severn estuary, the little wood at the bottom, and Charlton Common beyond. This encounter was to transform my experience of lockdown, and possibly also the Northerner's (though he is less prone to magical thinking than I am) and also our dear Ted's, who missed going to new places and smelling new smells, but who nevertheless had somewhere beautiful and interesting to spend his final months. As for our new dog, Cwtch, she has little idea what constitutes jaunting, but she whimpers with excitement when I turn up the lane and loves running between us and keeping tabs on us as we irritatingly refuse to stay in a neat herd.

First encounter, 5th April 2020

Apart from autumn when we didn't go up there that often, owing to having had our hearts broken by a certain dog, I have a huge collection of photos through the seasons. I'm going to post ones of the oak tree, which I think might be my most important tree apart from my grandmother's apple tree, especially since we also lost the ash tree from our bedroom window just before lockdown.