Indian summer days out

At Martyn’s suggestion yesterday, we cut some sandwiches and took ourselves out for a spot of sea air, motoring down to the coast at the Birling Gap, part way along the line of chalk cliffs between Seaford and Eastbourne in East Sussex.  The drive took a bit longer than expected, since soon after leaving town we got caught up behind a tractor and trailer.  The driver sportingly pulled over into a lay-by to let the tail get past and press on to the next set of roadworks.  Of which there were many.  We got slightly lost in the outskirts of Eastbourne, so got a small bonus of a tour via the Long Man of Wilmington which (whom?) I hadn't seen before.  On reading up when I got home, I find that he is almost certainly not of prehistoric origins, But dates at the earliest from the 16th century, And quite possibly from C18, depending which story you read.  Neither is

he carved into the chalk, since the soil thereabouts is too deep.  The white outline at one time consisted of whitewashed yellow bricks, which have subsequently been replaced by breeze blocks painted white.  Striking all the same.

We were astonished to see how many cars were parked at the Birling Gap.  Fortunately, as a life National Trust member, I get to park free of charge close to the stairs by flashing my membership card at the machine.  There were a lot of people on the beach and in the water, including several exuberant dogs!  We didn’t hang around too long, since the beach was so busy.  We’d no trouble keeping our distance while we had our lunch, but I was a bit anxious about using the stairs to and from the beach since there was no hope or maintaining the recommended two metres distance.  We slapped on masks,  unlike anyone else we saw, since we each have plenty of reasons to try to avoid infection.

Although I no longer send people to clink, I retain the letters after the name, so can be asked to authenticate signatures on declarations not involving oaths.  I had four to deal with yesterday evening in a pleasant rural environment.  But when one punter drove in with his mobile phone clamped to his ear, he got the benefit of a beakish dressing down.  Old habits die hard.

Today our outing was somewhat more mundane.  When I was changing bed linen this morning I could see that it was time for some new pillows.  We took ourselves off to a well-known big shed just outside the county town, and I foolishly remarked en route that we were out of town within twelve minutes compared with the usual 25-30 when I was doing the journey first thing in the morning for days at the hobby.  We had a long wait at a four-way traffic light where they are tinkering with a roundabout, and had two or three other waits at roadworks on the way.  So, one way and another, in the past two days we’ve seen enough traffic lights to last us a lifetime.

Anyway, at said big shed we quickly found what we were after, and had paid and left within five minutes. Sad, the rewards of life in retirement: I feel modestly pleased at having got two lots of bedding washed and dried, the new lot out on the line and well on the way, and two pillows in the washing machine (they’ll do for spares).  Stand by for further balls-achingly boring bulletins of elderly domesticity.