John promised he would finish his 24/7 report by the end of May, so I kept my counsel and was as quiet as a mouse about having a few days away. We finally pointed the nose of our old- but- still- stylish- car in the direction of the New Forest at the beginning of July – only for five days – but just that change of scene began to put a spring into the constant daily trudge and drudge … further burdened by a disabling depression, following the madness of Brexit. How could I, a European, be represented by blinking, blinkered Brexit? Would I have to leave my country of birth? The EU certainly needs radical reform but we need to be a partner in all of that – not an isolated small island on the fringes. Heavy feet combined with a heavy heart were not a great combination.
Our first port of call, although picturesque, with a river running through the garden, somehow didn’t appeal. Too twee, too expensive for what it was, although the dinner was good. We just felt out of place. Next morning, we were woken by a huge, red sewage lorry growling under our window. Long, blue sinuous pipes slithered through the dining room, into the garden beyond. We made a hasty exit. I fell silent in the car on our way to the coast, concentrating on the map – no sat-nav, so at least we won’t drive gaily into the sea…!
Keyhaven is a place more full of boats than people. It looks out over the Needles at the Isle of Wight. Otherwise, it’s marshland which attracts colonies of birds and then there’s Hurst Castle, which sits out at sea – a formidable and unwelcoming fortress – as it was in times past and latterly, during WW2. You can walk there from the shore (about 30 minutes) on top of a vast sand spit – which we did.
We met sailors, anglers, dog walkers and a lovely old countryman, John Churchill, dressed in capable browns and greens, who told us about the habits of grayling fish, which favour the shallows. His son was by the shore, fishing for their supper. They had invested in a motor home, bought on the proceeds of breeding a special type of dog. Looking at John Churchill, he could have come from the 18th or 19th century – immersed in country ways. It reminded me that my father used to read a book size magazine regularly, called ‘The Countryman’.
My change of scene was finally off to a great start and I could feel myself escaping from ‘grimmity’.
Good to be aware of the very different lives people lead. English summer weather – bright, warm but with grey clouds lurking somewhere out there and a brisk wind up on the sand spit.
I’m amazed this place exists here. When I elected to go to the New Forest I just thought of wild ponies and piglets, hoovering up beech mast. Lovely, but there’s so much more …
I was fascinated by the colours and patterns rust makes, when continually washed by sea water. The ‘lonely heart’ photo is particularly atmospheric!
The fort is well worth a visit. Lots of memories of how it was used in WW2, wonderful, panoramic views of sea and land, and volunteers repainting relics of war. See John’s blog.
Inside the fort.
There’s a lot of rust about …
The fort is slowly being renovated with relics of the past on view and two rooms dedicated to lighthouses around Britain.
It was beginning to spot with rain, so we decided to take the small ferry – ten of us squashed up for a ten minute ride – back to the shore. It had a canvas roof but was otherwise open to the elements – giving me a rush of elemental energy as the wind buffeted us across the water.
We clambered out onto a small jetty and made our way to the “Gun Inn’ for a welcome lunch.
Next day we found ourselves in a car park, near the Hythe ferry, which we were taking to Southampton to see friends. John spent an hour in the car on a conference call, while I moseyed around the local Waitrose, picking up a razor (which he had forgotten to bring with him) and also a free ‘Times’. No FTs on offer in Hythe. Two a day are delivered to Lymington – and later on we tracked one down, much to John’s satisfaction!
An old fashioned wooden train trundles the length of a very long pier far out into the Solent, where a quaint passenger ferry (1950s style) awaits to take you over the water. Southampton docks are still industrial and impressive with vast ocean liners and cargo ships.
I hadn’t been to Southampton before and it was lucky that we ended up in the old part, which was to some extent saved from bombs during WW2.
See John’s blog for this story – it’s his 9 life camera!
The Titanic sailed from here on its maiden voyage to New York. It sank on the 15th April 1912.
The Tudor House has a great museum and a charming garden at the back, built into the city walls. Worth a visit.
There’s a good place to eat and stay here, called ‘The Pig’.
We had lunch at ‘The Olive Tree’ (Italian). Our friends have a motor home and had travelled from Spain to Greece, so had interesting tales to tell.
Then it was back on the ferry. Next stop, Buckler’s Hard via a welcome Waterstones bookshop we found in Lymington. We finally drove through parts of the New Forest.
This is in an idyllic spot by the river, where Nelson had many of his boats built. Besides the hotel, there is a museum and many riverside walks. We did the one to Beaulieu by the river – twice. This is a wonderful place for a weekend visit – even better if you can go mid-week.
Another monster keeping a beady eye on our sandwiches.
The ice cream at Buckler’s Hard was so delicious. The sunset was very atmospheric. I slept well.
Next morning we turned the car’s nose toward home via Fordingbridge, where we have a friend who has made some stunning films about China. His name is Phil Agland. We were invited for lunch with his family and then for a walk by the river. I wish I’d taken a picture of the pretty, lumbering white cows, which followed us closely, slobbering rather alarmingly – but I got stung by nettles instead!
John spotted huge trout basking in the shallows.
And then it was back to the mad motorway, the boy racers, the pointless, idiotic speeding, followed by the relief to be home once more with good memories and some fresh air in my veins.
END