The Sea! The Sea! As the Greeks said...

It's possible a Greek or two were wandering about when we landed on one of Europe's best beaches.  It ought to be best as they spend vast sums dredging up sand and piling it on to keep the beach in good condition, they succeed well.  Here we see one of the growing dunes that are being manufactured, the majority have grass planted to bind them together and lower the risk of the tide sweeping them away and the result is a more natural beach, natural if you remember much of it is dredged form somewhere out there.

  
Bournemouth beach on a Wednesday morning is one of the safest around.  Flags fly to indicate safe places to swim, large huts contain lifeguards sitting on watch, dogs are allowed but in parts restricted, security prowl looking for those who wish others harm. All in all they work hard to ensure a safe day out and it works well in my view.

The wind offered an opportunity for those who like sailing yet few were to be seen from here.  The cloud to our left allowed some sun to appear to our right where the 'Old Harry' rocks are situated.  The sea meanwhile gave different shades of light to us and I failed to capture the 'silvery sea' in front of me.  The settings wrong again!   Bah!

After inhaling all the sea breeze we could and discussing great affairs (she was back indoors scared of the sea so conversation could be deep and satisfying) it was decided to head upwards and get the view from on top of the cliffs.  

A great view of the sweep of the bay from Old Harry rocks to the far end at Hengisbury Head, a place she indoors will not let us travel as it's too windy.  On the beach we could not see these four yachts trailing one another yet up here all sorts of things appear in front of us.

What was he carrying as he jogged along the sand?  Such running is good for the fitness but in what looks like a wetsuit and carrying a deflated banana of huge proportions?  Maybe his dog was well ahead of him?

This one made several attempts to put out to sea but appeared to get no further than fifty yards before returning to shore.  Quite what he intended I was not sure but he did not go far.  It is not uncommon for people to row canoes (Kayaks?) around the British Isles but it is hard work in the seas round the coast.  In some ways I understand this, we all wish to do something rather daft that exercises the body, I cycled from Edinburgh to London once (once!) in 1974 at around fifty miles a day.  Not bad for someone who did not have a bike until a few weeks beforehand, rather stupid now of course!  The adventure of doing something physical and unusual is within us all, even though it is often daft!  I hope he makes it.

Behind us stood a long row of houses developed to take advantage of the view.  Some dated a little like this one (I will take a penthouse please), others replacing 1930's houses with modern three story blocks of wide windowed apartments costing just over a million each.  Down on Sandbanks where the rich live a modern home on the front could set you back five or six million, unless you wanted a big one.  Personally I prefer this block to the modern sleek trendy minimalist offerings.  I would wish for a home not a cold austere trendy flat, that is not a home just something to show off to others. 
My wishes of course make no difference, neither are coming my way nor I suspect will they come yours.  The view is great however and it is free to walk along the front inspecting where the ground has slipped away or sit and cogitate while gulls fly over the head and a Kestrel hovers over the cliff seeking lunch.  We saw one hover and suddenly swoop down below but we did not see him rise up again.  I wonder if he got fed or is still there chomping away?

    
This area was quite quiet while we sat and pondered but down below every 250 yards or so sat small pockets of people, usually a couple of women and a huddle of children, near the water and chucking down sandwiches in between enjoying the beach.  With the holidays round the corner it is clear that this area will be a mass of people doing similar and I will be happily above on the cliff rather than down there in that throng on that day.

These Scots thistles get everywhere, you see it is a fact of life that without Scotland or Scots this world would not work!  I er, will not attend church today in case any racist comments and or bottle throwing erupt during the service as comments regarding last nights result might be considered provocative....

We scurried home for lunch stopping only at the gorgeous Poole Bay!  Here those who stand on surf boards armed only with a sail learn to develop their hobby in the knowledge that this water is less than two feet deep.  In the distance sits Poole Harbour, which along with Christchurch at the other end of the bay have been the only workable harbours here since the Iron age, that's from around 500 BC until today.  Bournemouth itself was no use to anyone bringing goods ashore as these two places provided the harbour for the area, it being fear of Napoleonic invasion and the occasional smuggler that led some to seek the Militia to defend the beaches against such invasion that brought the Bourne Mouth to prominence. Lewis Tregonwell, a captain in the militia secured this area and after his wife suffered depression when their child died they holidayed in the area.  They loved it so much they built a house in 1812 and moved in.  Knowing sea bathing had become the cure all for all sickness Tregonwell built large villas, for the rich, to indulge themselves while holidaying, secured his fortune and created Bournemouth.  Now it possesses almost 200,000 souls and combined with Poole, Christchurch etc, almost half a million live in the area.  Too crowded for me.

 Naturally the water means a great many live as they have done for generations on the water.  Quite what this one was doing was unclear but I suspect his boat gets more use than those that appear unloved around him.  It is not unusual to see such craft slowly die and disappear into the mud.  Cheaper than having them broken or removed I suppose but there again do they not pay mooring fees?

Having lunched, how nice to eat properly for a few days, we two returned to the front late in the afternoon.  This meant parking in the cheapest place and how attractive such car parks can be!  Several levels of concrete with millions of pounds worth of debt laden cars in buildings using cheap paint to keep costs down.  Few holiday here but it is clear why movie makers often find themselves in such places.

   
Walking though the gardens to the pier we saw something of the huge numbers of young folk who fill this town while attending the University or the many language schools.  Vast numbers filled the park, kicking balls about, shouting, chasing one another, or as here on the beach, posing so as to attract the girls.  We sat amongst the throng, something you realise we were not too keen on, people watching for a while.  How much better the view was from high up above the cliffs than sitting amongst so many people here at the centre of beach life.   While it is right folks ought to enjoy the beach, and it is a great beach, I wished it was November, then the beach would still be great but these folks would be elsewhere!

Like the gulls we were wondering 'who ate all the pies?'  Or was it 'who drank all the 'Stella?'

Did I explain I enjoy Bournemouth?  My spiritual mentor was there, and she just as important in this even though the phrase I mostly hear her say is 'Shut up!'  The beach, comfy bed, good food, the sea, the countryside, the castle and the variety of intriguing houses built by the wealthy over the years are a delight to me, especially as I have not been there with them for two years.  Enjoyment is the word to sum it up.  You will be glad I am off home now...

A Second day (well actually it is still the first...)

Climbing the Matterhorn meant that he and I had little enthusiasm for anything but lunch.  So it was off the beaten track to a beaten track at Hartland Moor where we scoffed lunch and rested bones.  This type of moor is somewhat bleak in my view, the purple stretches for miles into the hills in the far distance and small beasties crawl here and there but few birds fly by and in my mind there is no obvious beauty to be seen.  To observe that requires careful searching into the scrub to find the many insects that live here but at first sight I see it as somewhat bland.  This did not stop people, aged and with dogs, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing in similar fashion into the distance.  The road is quiet and apart from a selfish female cyclist who would not let us pass on the narrow road, he man moved aside, few other vehicles came that way.  A good place to stuff the face when the sun is shining.

Then it was time for the beach!

Raised in Edinburgh, a city that slopes down to the Firth of Forth, I love to be near the sea.  Growing up we often heard the deep long blast of the foghorn based on Inchkeith and often we could see the light from the accompanying lighthouse turning around.  The advancement (?) of lighting and creation of blocks of flats where my old school once horrified they surroundings would hinder both, if indeed foghorns actually sound thee days.  The smell of the sea and the light produced by the action of light bouncing of the water does lift the soul I say.  There is something about the closeness of the water, the end of land and the reaching out to whatever lies way over yonder that speaks to us in some way.  In times past few lived near the sea as it appeared dangerous, only sailors and fishermen would venture near, but today the majority love the sea, crowded beaches show that.
Naturally the woman of the party despises the seaside and prefers moorland and forest!  This is good however as we dumped her on a seat at the front knowing she would retreat to the car and sleep the day off.  We trekked on bravely.

Swanage is a small town in a bay which gathers an enormous number of visitors.  Possibly it is comparatively cheap, I suspect it is not that cheap to live here, but lots of UK visitors were noticed.  There again Bournemouth and possibly Swanage attract young folks to 'Language schools' and Bournemouth teems with such types and maybe there were some among the throng here.

We did not venture far, the break in the buildings ahead offered a seat and a 'Heritage centre,' a well run small and very well set out museum resplendent with history and well informed volunteer helpers.  I am very impressed with this place.  If collecting stones, those shiny things kids love is your thing this is the place to go, they have thousands, this is the 'Jurassic Coast' after all.

We sat listening to a group of men in English shirts informing the world around of their inability to hold their drink while we cogitated on the number of 'Fish & Chip' shops advertised or seen in the small square.  The Jewish man who apparently began selling chips with his fish in the 19th century did not realise he was introducing the UK's main lunch when he did so.  The pesky foreigners keep changing good old English attitudes and it really must stop!  By the way it was supposedly an Italian, one who had walked all the way from Italy, who late in the century introduced Scotland's first 'Chippy.'  When you consider how in the last fifty years the UK now eats Indian (often Bangladeshi actually) and Chinese (are we still banned from saying 'Chinky?') you see how the nations eating habits have developed with the introduction of foreign Johnnies into the country.
 I await the popularising of Middle Easter cuisine in similar fashion however that may be limited by cries of 'Islamic Terrorist!' every time you went in for a falafel.  The gulls however cared not what you ate just as long as you ensured they got their share.

The sun shone brightly but there was a haze limiting the sight of the Isle of Wight.  At times it was almost clear but rarely could we see the lower end.  The sea itself was somewhat rough as the wind roughened the tops of the waves while the tide came in our direction.  The sea is very much colder than it looks and those tempted into it discover this fooled by the warmth of the sun.

 
Surprisingly few yachts were out there and this was good weather for that kind of thing.  Were the owners all off making money in the city in this heat I wonder?  Few craft of any king out there while we meandered about and headed back via the shops.  Lots of small shops still surviving in spite of business rates and greedy councils but a lot of them were, shall we say, tatty?  Lots of pap on offer, ice cream and chips, not at the same time,  and all the other requirements of holiday makers and their kids in the sun filled cheery seaside.  I wondered where these people resided?  On returning we found our madame still sitting there, now people watching, now gossiping with strangers, very like her.  These strangers were holidaying nearby, were others doing the same?  Swanage does not appear to have many obvious 'Bed & Breakfast' places, maybe I juts did not look. 

Then it was time to sail the seven seas, or at least make use of the Sandbanks Ferry.  

Timing it to be just too late to board we waited in the sun while people clambered out of cars, avoiding the massive chains that keep the ferry stable, and photographed their surroundings.  The young men on their jet skis bouncing upon the waves somewhat carelessly were less interesting than the madman trying to reach France by paragliding there on wind power.  He would be lucky to make the other side, which he would not do if he ran into the ferry from Boulogne.  It amazes me when you see the size of the ships which enter this narrow channel into Poole Bay.  Huge ships arrive and park themselves way over the far side of the bay yet in other parts the water is only a few feet deep.  For several thousand years men in boats, from dug out canoes to car carrying ferries have deposited their loads here, one of the reasons Many folks have made use of the hill upon which we found Corfe Castle and where I must have left two stones of ugly somewhere on the way up.  

Brownsea Island, not somewhere I have been but maybe if we could walk further we might venture onto one day, not this week mind.  Fampusly owned by one woman, famous for the first Boy Scout Jamboree (girls allowed but no boys allowed in Girl Guides for some reason) and we watched the ferry (yet another) pull away from the Island and make of round the bay.  Maybe next year but I doubt his missus will be up for that!  The island is now another National Trust property.

The Sandbanks Ferry has been running since the 1920's, a fact which surprised me as I always thought it a Victorian achievement.  £4:50 gets the car across in a few minutes accompanied on occasions by the sound of someone aboard informing a yachtsman or sailboarder of their opinion regarding how close he could get to a moving ferry chain.  Most big boats work the passage well.  
If you ever have too much cash floating around pass it on to me and I will buy one of the flats where I will waste my life watching the ferry move back and forth day after day, that is how active my body wishes to be these days.  I note one available for a mere £950,000 which appears to me to be a bargain that must not be missed. 

In the distance Bournemouth towers above the cliffs while on the beach thousands frolic in the sun, we will be there tomorrow.  Just think, around 1850 nothing much but bracken and a small stream, the Bourne, had its collision with the sea here, known as the 'Bourne Mouth' the name has stuck but now from Christchurch at one end to Poole at the other how many thousands cram into this place day after day?
I do like it however.

Corfe Castle Trip

Pack, repack, forget something rush to station. Unhappy sour people, previous train not arrive.  Busy lonely staff tries to help, gives tickets, explains again, surly responses.  Stratford means using lift to avoid stairs, then using stairs to get to right platform!  Fast Jubilee line, London people mix with globetrotters making an interesting sight, but not one to see every day.  Waterloo, miss train as platform to long and train driver ignores late passengers rushing towards it.  First on next train, comfy seat, coffee, read book, look out window at obscene high rise flats/offices then warm green fields, stilted dry crops, country life, blue sky and sunshine.  Arrive, welcome, sun reaches over thirty degrees, eat, rest, settle in, then out seeking life!

Shall we go here, there, here, there, over and on but in the end we go.  On way we change mind and in bout of stupidity stop at Corfe and enter Corfe Castle.  

Broken down by Cromwell during Civil War (how can any war be 'civil?') and left in bits ever since the solid entrance gates indicated a slow gentle wander up to the Keep.

Lies! All lies!  The gentle slope went on for ever.  My knees and his hip indicating displeasure as we climbed ever upwards surrounded by tourists of many tongues and not a few dogs and pre school children, I prefer the dogs!  

   
The gatehouse has many indications that this was not the most welcoming place.  Built around a thousand years ago with a Keep built of Purbeck Limestone at the heart created by William the Conqueror's son Henry I to defend the entrance to the land from the bay nearby.  The castle stands impressively atop the hill offering clear views for miles around and ensuring a strong defensive offering to any would be invader or local rebel.  The name 'Corfe' comes, as you know, from the old English 'ceorfan' which means 'cutting,' as the hill on which the castle stands cuts through the ridge of chalk hills on which it stands.

The archers view from inside.  I expect the floor was of a lower level in King John's time and that makes me wonder what may lie beneath?  I wonder if they ever attempt to look or will they consider it not worthwhile?  I suspect they know better than I.

Henry I indicated how loving his family was by imprisoning his brother Robert of Normandy in the castle, by then one of the strongest in the land and others were to follow the delight of being held here either in some degree of comfort or in the dungeon.   Both King John of ill repute and Henry III kept Eleanor of Brittany confined here as she threatened their position, typical woman!   She did survive however twenty or so of her Knights were not so fortunate.  

    
I think this was the medieval manner of keeping fit, you build a castle on a hill and get fitness by clambering up and down stairs and walkways day after day, cheaper than a local gym.

The castle was designed to look good as well as be efficient but Cromwell's men did very well in removing any possible defence capability with their gunpowder and engineering skills.  Massive walls these may have been but they collapsed well enough when pushed.

With too little information, too many visitors swarming around, school classes being educated about the civil war (by a lass of Indian descent) and the lack of breath caused by climbing this high without falling over the edge it gave little time to cogitate on those who dwelt herein during the castle's lifetime.  What was that door upstairs leading to?  Was it merely defence or did a king or queen live there?  If the kings life was somewhat sparse in comparison to 'Buck House' today what was life like for the workers, soldiers and the farmers providing foodstuffs and profit round about?  

Some residents today are doing very well.  In the nooks and crannies of the castle the Jackdaws were happy enough.  This was had been hovering in the breeze (breeze he says!) much of the time when not chattering to his mate.  He (or is it she?) looked contented enough.

 
A town naturally grew at the foot of the castle and the stone built houses are delightful to admire.  The break up of the castle has led to many stones appearing within these houses, occasional TV programmes venture into such and that which once graced the homes of the powerful now grace the homes of the well off.   These houses do not come cheap.  Is that stone tiles on the roofs?  
In past time these would have held the staff working in the castle, however their homes would probably have been rough stone with earth roofing, earth floor and somewhat inadequate sanitary arrangements.  Passing time brings improvements and the cattle, sheep and fields brought many wealth and comfort.

 
It would be possible to spend all day taking photos of the castle and searching the history.  One photographer was very keen and worked away taking several shots at various settings to get the right result.  Good for him I thought and later when I realised I had my camera on the wrong setting I became somewhat jealous!  Stupid boy, that means I have had to play with the pics somewhat. Bah!

One teacher had her enraptured class, well most of them, sitting in front of what was called the 'Gloriette.'  Judging by the Gothic type windows I considered this a chapel at first but 'Gloiette' means 'Little room' and this usually goes with a garden.  The 12th and 13th century building works appear to have been for comfort and enjoyment as much as for defence.  I loved the windows however I have no idea when they were added.

In a small dark room of to the side I suddenly noticed deep with the hole that at one time supported a floor beam sat this white dove.  Quietly but warily she watched our movements.  It was much darker than the picture shows and she appeared content while masses passed by unseeing.

   
Near the main gatehouse stood several huts which employed the castle carpenter and here the stonemason.  The area immediately after the entrance would once have teemed with workers, food areas, horses and soldiers going about or avoiding their business of the day.  At weekends now the castle puts on a variety of medieval or civil war re-enactments.  I wish I could be there at that time.  Speaking to the man on duty he answered one or two of our questions and appeared very knowledgeable and interested in the history and the visitors, it was a good response to find.

I wonder if King John or one of the Henry's ever slipped and fell and cursed as he made his way down to the gate?  The pathway is hardened to make life easier but in truth walking to the side was better, I slipped less!  

The 'Trebuchet' shone here is still used in exhibitions.  This brute can throw stones, balls of fire and dogs and horses collected leftovers over 300 yards, that's about three long football pitches.  The ball when it lands in the castle can be a bit messy.
During the English Civil War the end came for the castle.  Lady Mary Bankes held he castle for her royalist husband, in spite of Dorset being solidly parliamentarian, and withstood a siege during which see suffered two casualties and the attacking for suffered over a hundred!  However duplicity brought the end. One Colonel Pitman arranged to leave the castle and bring in a hundred reinforcements, however he returned with parliamentarian forces and having sneaked in (how do you sneak in and out with so many men?) he waited until the parliamentarian force attacked and then turned on the defenders.  Generously once they had surrendered Lady Bankes and the garrison were allowed to leave and parliament voted to 'slight' the castle leaving it in the present state.

When we set out we had no intention of visiting Corfe let alone the castle.  However as we ended up in that direction, don't ask how, we stopped and then entered.  This was done as they possess the cards from the National Trust and by offering me the son's card I too entered this way (devious I say).
Neither my knees or his hip realised how steep the clamber up would be, normally healthy people would survive and many aged and decrepit folks were up there along with us breathing heavily and hobbling along cheerily.  It was well worth the effort, not just because I could play with the camera on a wrong setting, not just for the views or history but because it was worth it!  We both were glad we made the effort while she wandered the shops and sat in the car people watching which is her latest hobby.  
The National Trust now own the castle and keep it in good shape, considering much of it is falling down.  The staff were friendly and efficient, the work well maintained and the education side clearly beneficial as school parties arrive and can clamber up and down and pretend they are knights, kings and queens and medieval folks.  Rather than than me when medieval folks did not have a microwave!   Corfe Castle is worth a visit however I would suggest going before the kids are released from school.  I enjoyed it.
Then we moved on....

Blurred Blue tit!

You Lucky Lucky peepul!

I have just returned from a few days in the south coast penthouse where I have toured the beauty spots and climbed the Matterhorn, or so it seemed to me.  This means I have over TWO HUNDRED photos to post! 
 You lucky, lucky peepul!

Hello!  Hello!.... Operator! I've been cut off!...Hello....?

    

Sabbath Muse

Trundling down to church in the sunshine was an unusual experience today.  I found my tinted glasses and looking like someone from Hollywood I ventured forth.  Surprisingly nobody noticed me.  This was a bit awkward, at least while using the zebra crossing and indeed on the way home where I failed to look properly crossing the road and almost went under the police car.  The fear of thirty pages of paperwork meant he said nothing and moved on.
Soon people will begin to hate the heat that never ends, water companies are already threatening hosepipe bans and crops are failing in the fields, so Tesco can increase the price.  The red backs will soon have folks grumbling at the doctors  and the incompetent government will be given the blame.
Living on this island allows great scope for grumbling.

Amazon

Another book moves from the reading pile to the read shelf.  Very good it is too!

Far too many grumble about British generals and their apparent failings, this book, written by people who know as opposed to those with an axe to grind, offers us men in high positions with great responsibilities and carrying the same ambitions and failures we all have.  It shows these men to be human and far from willing to waste men's lives.

Haig himself is not mentioned, these are the army commanders, men who rose up the ranks to the top, some during the war and others in the field.  All had some sort of war experience, Sudan, India and the Boer War among them, all served at home and abroad.

The charge of uncaring generals wasting men's lives is often thrown around in the UK, never elsewhere for some reason, and these men were ordered to remove the enemy from France, therefore they had to deal with what was in front of them in the only way possible.  Tactics changed constantly over the period, weapons improved, yet the chief strategy was the same, siege warfare. 

There was no other choice.  The nonsensical waste of time and effort in Gallipoli and Salonika, ordered by London not the army, cost many lives but orders are orders.  The war could only be fought in France and Flanders nowhere else! 

For all the grumbles re generals, something that did not happen elsewhere and probably began with Lloyd George the one time Prime Minister trying to pass the buck onto the generals who followed his orders, it must be remembered that 70 or so generals died during the war, several of the leading army commanders suffered wounds and not only did they participate in holding the line with meagre resources against a vast German army in 1914 these were the men who finally pushed that army out of France and Flanders.

A good book, well written and worth reading.