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Bristol , United Kingdom
Poet and poetry facilitator. Neurodishevelled. My sixth poetry collection, Love the Albatross, is available from Indigo Dreams or directly from me.
Showing posts with label Sussex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sussex. Show all posts

Monday, 29 July 2024

The shifting pebbles of Pevensey

 A flying trip to Sussex yesterday for a pub lunch with my daughter and her partner, after which we wandered along the pebble beach at Pevensey Bay, where the future William I landed his invasion force on 28th September 1066. These days it's far more peaceful. 



Looking over towards Bexhill


We sat for a while and relaxed, before admiring the 'gardens' at the top of the shingle bank on the way back to the car. They looked more like they'd grown themselves, and were no less beautiful for that. 




I think I should thread my hagstones and hang them somewhere too, even though we're a few miles further from the sea here. Maybe I'll find somewhere when the extension I'm having built is complete.






There was just one thing missing. I knew there was a castle at Pevensey but for some reason, I'd been convinced it's on the coast, but it isn't. But I've seen it! I wailed, inwardly. In a picture, on a crag - with turrets - overlooking the sea ... 

I stopped, followed my subconscious train of thought - Pevensey
 
à Pevensie à  Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy  à Narnia ... oh! I was thinking of Cair Paravel.  

The non-fictional Pevensey Castle is situated about a mile inland, between the villages of Pevensey and Westham. Alex kindly detoured so that we could see it from the outside. It's massive and impressive and I think I'll properly plan a visit there sometime. And ... 

... at the time of the Norman invasion, in 1066, the land it was built on was a peninsula projecting from the coast. It had first been fortified by the Romans; then, after the invasion, William had temporary defences raised, which were later replaced by the great mediaeval castle. So the picture in my head wasn't wrong; it was just 960 years out of date.


Monday, 16 October 2023

Alfriston Clergy House ... and a rainbow for Virginia Woolf

Timed tickets booked and paid for in advance are a bit tricky when you have to drive 180 miles to get to the place in question, especially when part of that journey involves the M25, where I spent a happy four hours in stationary traffic with my sons and our dog back in May. 

This time, though, all went to plan, and as I drove across the easternmost end of the South Downs to Saltdean, I began to imagine that my daughter, Jenny, and I might even complete an ambitious itinerary that involved a visit to Alfriston Clergy House, followed by a pub lunch, followed by the all-important timed ticket at Monk's House, the rural bolthole of Virginia and Leonard Woolf at Rodmell.

Alas. It turned out the A27 south of Lewes was closed for the weekend because of roadworks, the traffic along the coast road was worse than anything I'd ever seen in the height of summer, and our eleven mile drive to Alfriston was going to take an hour, according to the sat nav. As we approached a Sainsbury's Local in Peacehaven, I turned down a side street and hastily parked. Time to get some emergency rations in case the pub lunch was off. 


Eventually we reached the ridiculously quaint village of Alfriston, and made our way from the car park, along the River Cuckmere to the Church of St Andrew, a large cruciform building constructed, it's thought, during the 14
th century on a pre-Christian site, of flint and all in one go, by persons unknown.  


 
On the south porch wall, a scratch sundial ...
 

 ...and this more modern dial, about which I could find out very little, other than there appears to be an indentical one in nearby Alciston churchyard. Maybe they are waymarks for a modern pilgrimage.

The interior of the church is spacious and airy, the walls covered with peeling whitewash. Apparently there are mediaeval murals underneath. It would be so good to see them, but, I suspect, costly to have them uncovered and preserved.


 
Early mediaeval font
 
 
As well as some mediaeval glass, there was a beautiful East window designed by James Powell in 1904 ...

 
... a window depicting the Tree of Jesse, designed in 1914 by Charles Eamer Kempe ...
 

... and a very modern window (2004) of St Peter the Fisherman by Joseph Nuttgens.
 
 
I also like this Arts and Crafts-influenced memorial to the 23-year-old son of the Vicar of Alfriston, William Beynon. Beynon also played an important role in the story of the nearby Alfriston Clergy House, which I'd wanted to visit for many years, ever since I'd first become interested in William Morris and the Arts and Crafts Movement. It was Beynon who involved Morris and the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings, along with the mewly formed National Trust, in the campaign to save this early 15th century building, which was in danger of being demolished. 





I was so taken by this beautiful old house, mainly because unlike many mediaeval houses with huge draughty halls, it's on just the right scale to imagine living there.

 
The floor in the hall is especially interesting, being made of chalk, which was rammed into the floor and strengthened with the addition of sour milk.

 
This carved oak leaf in the hall is said to have inspired the design of the Trust's familiar logo, when it was designed in the 1940s.


 

 The garden is also Arts and Crafts-inspired, and structurally very pleasing, although, of course, we were visiting at the wrong time of year for much in the way of colour.
 


We then set off for the village of Rodmell, eleven miles away in the neighbouring valley of the River Ouse, but again the traffic was very heavy and we resigned ourselves to not getting a pub lunch; in fact, we only just made it to Monk's House by 3pm. 

Once inside, I was immediately reminded of Charleston, the house seven miles away that belonged to Virginia Woolf's sister, Vanessa Bell, with its paintings, tiled fireplaces and decorated furniture commissioned from the Bloomsbury Group, although in this house visitors are permitted to take photos.  



 
Tiled table by Duncan Grant


 
Painted table by Vanessa Bell 


In spite of the difference in eras, wealth and class, there was a moment when I felt Virginia and Leonard  Woolf might have been kin.

 
 
Needlepoint mirror frame ...

 
... and chair backs

 
Portrait of Virginia by Vanessa

 

The house is a lot older than it appears, at least from the outside. It was actually built in the mid-16th century, and I really loved the brick steps that show the passage of many feet.


Virginia's bedroom




 
Virginia and Leonard were both buried in the garden, Virginia in 1941, following her suicide, and Leonard in 1969.



In
Virginia's writing room at the bottom of the garden, something ethereal was happening with the light,which illuminated her chair and the balls of screwed-up paper on her desk ...
 

 ... and while we stood, a little sadly, it has to be said, in that glorious garden set in the beautiful countryside of the South Downs, a rainbow arched over the Ouse valley.