A Return to Cuckmere Haven

There was a balloon fly-past along our street yesterday morning, as part of this year's Covid-secure fiesta, which made for an auspicious start to the day's long drive to the South coast and back, to visit my daughter. 

And the day, spent (mostly) in Cuckmere Haven, which is one of my favourite places, lived up to the hype.

After lunch in the Cuckmere Inn, we walked down to the sea. The last time I was here, in late September 2017, it was autumnal. Yesterday it was summery and hot, but not quite too hot, which was a relief.

  Small cabbage white on fleabane

We made our way down to the sea along the flower- and butterfly-filled lane that runs along the right-hand side of the valley. 

Thistledown pretending it's sheep's wool

Glimpse of the cliffs

Chalk Hill Blue butterflies on vetch

Common Centaury

Viper's-Bugloss

Looking back up the meandering River Cuckmere 

Down on the beach I found a handy bit of wall to sit on. It's funny but once you've got your eye in, interesting pebbles present themselves even when you aren't really looking. Here's a hagstone masquerading as a geode. Or vice versa.

Down on the water's edge, where the River Cuckmere meets the sea, it's easier to get a sense of why this run of cliffs is called the Seven Sisters.

Just visible on the furthermost cliff is Belle Tout lighthouse, which we visited a couple of summers ago. And in the opposite direction, the coastguard cottages on Seaford Head. 

Seaford Head 

The looping River Cuckmere comes to its conclusion

The trouble with a long car journey is that the day's inevitably curtailed. One day I'll have a holiday in East Sussex. For now, though, it was time to head back up the valley, taking the path running along the right bank of the river, with a final goodbye from an unseen but nearby raven. 

Swan and little egret

Swan

An expanse of salt marsh

A Visit to Sidmouth

My parents love Sidmouth. So we went to Sidmouth. 

I love Sidmouth too - when the folk festival's on. The rest of the time it's staid and conservative. Not to mention Conservative. 

But the beach and the cliffs are great. I installed the parents in a shelter on the front with ice creams and a copy of the Daily Bigot and went for a wander. 

It was a lovely day for it. 

First, I headed for the cliffs at the easternmost end of town, on the grounds that I like them best. 

Here some of the sandstone rocks have green go-faster stripes. 

They reminded me of Ted a couple of years ago, during a spate of decorating.

Sidmouth's famous hanging gardens are still very much in evidence. 

In fact, I was shocked by how much of the cliff face has been lost since I was last here, just under four years ago. 

There are great holes visible in the sandstone now, and because the tide was high and it was hard to keep away from the cliffs, I decided not to hang about too long. 

As I was leaving, a woman with two children asked me if it was safe. I had to say no, I didn't think it was. 

After lunch - toilets 5 metres, France 87 miles (handy to know when life on Brexit Island gets beyond endurable) -  I deposited the parents on the esplanade again and forayed to the west.

Back at the cottage in Shaldon, I took stock of the day's treasure: (clockwise) a geode, a vug (which reminds me of my grandmother's treacle tart),  fossilised ferns and a fossilised sponge (or sausage roll).  Plus ten hag stones. All in all, a pretty good haul.