Posts Tagged ‘Beach’

Worthing Beach

June 1, 2016

I grew up little more than 25 miles from Worthing. We never went there. My dad had no taste, really, for seaside towns with no other function other than holiday places and retirement homes. I tend to follow him in that view.

I used to go to Worthing as a train spotter – not because Worthing attracted but because this enabled a train to pass the Lancing Carriage Works which were home to a couple of my favourite ‘Terrier’ locos and also because the local runabout ticket allowed one to go to Worthing.

I have a memory of once going to the seafront and not being much impressed.

Last month we made a trip to Worthing. Sorry Worthing. I still wasn’t impressed all that much. The sea front seemed to be a way of taking money off motorists (to park) without offering them very much. However, we were there for a purpose and parked up in a multi storey park near Howarth – the oboe maker who we needed to visit and not that far from the front. We took a picnic and as it was a tad breezy we quite fancied sitting in one of the shelters with a sea view. But the seats on the sea facing side were no longer there so we sat on a seat facing the sea but with the main road just behind. It just didn’t feel welcoming.

The interesting things I found to look at included the pillars, way out to sea.


These seem to be the as yet incomplete wind turbines of a massive off shore windfarm being constructed along 20 miles or so of the Sussex coast. They are way, way out to sea and don’t really represent an intrusion on the sea view.

There was also a winch on the beach to take a look at.


Clearly this had been used to haul fishing boats ashore as happens at Dungeness and also at Hastings. I enjoyed seeing it.

Now I must redress the balance. My late sister wrote about a trip to Worthing in 2007. Like me, she didn’t know the place. Unlike me she decided it was a vibrant place. She visited in an August.

I was quite pleased to get away.

Father and son on the beach

October 11, 2015

A few days ago I looked at mother and daughter at Haytor and commented on how much I liked to get up in hills – actually in preference to the seaside which I can visit a bit under sufferance. But when you have children (or as now, grandchildren) you have to put personal preferences to one side and get on down and enjoy the beach. And that, clearly, was what I was doing on the same holiday as the ‘Haytor’ one.


Yes, that’s me and my son who seems to be dancing round a piece of seaweed. Now it might seem odd but this is just the kind of beach I find least interesting. It’s all sand. Give me some rock pools and I’ll find something which I think is more interesting. If there are pebbles they have texture, colours and shapes I can enjoy. Sand always seems so uniformly dreary to me.

However, I seem to have the small plastic bucket and, no doubt, a spade is not far away. And with a bit of luck, son can build some kind of castle.


This would have been on the south Devon coast somewhere near Teignmouth. The year was 1982.

On the beach at Bexhill

February 15, 2014

My grandparents spent most of their adult life in Bexhill on Sea in Sussex. They married there in 1916, celebrated a Golden Wedding there and ended their days in the area.  For about a dozen years they were elsewhere. Under fear of invasion in World War II, Bexhill was largely evacuated. For a while grandparents settled in Tunbridge Wells but on retirement they moved back to Bexhill.

Grandad was quite a keen photographer, but without the cash to really indulge in a hobby. He took photos and got the local chemist to do the difficult developing of the film. Grandad could then select negatives for contact printing. Printing paper was made to be insensitive to red light. Grandad could happily process his own prints. But many of his negatives were never printed (or if they were, I do not know where they are). I have his negatives which of course, have no captions. Here is one of them which shows a lady on the beach at Bexhill in the 1920s or 30s.


I’d love to be able to tell you who this is, but I have never been able to decide.  She has something of the look of my granny – but definitely is not her. Maybe it’s a relative – perhaps Great Aunt Eliza. But there again it could just be a friend, never known to me. Whoever it is, I love the image of this rather mournful looking lady sitting on the beach doing her knitting or crochet.

But I do wonder who she is!

Romance is in the air

February 13, 2013

Well, it is Valentine’s Day tomorrow but for this post I’m going to do a bit of then and now.

When we married, back in 1971, my wife and I honeymooned in the tent. We went to the west coast of Ireland

For our Ruby wedding, in 2011, we decided to take our tent back to the same area. We actually found pretty well the same camp site, run by the same family who had hosted us forty years earlier.

Photos, then, were taken on my Canon demi half frame camera.


Wife, tent and car in 1971.

Tent and car 2011 – no need for a loo tent as the campsite now has facilities.



View from campsite in 1971. The folks of 2011 could recognise the man standing in the boat (a curragh) by his stance. And below – pretty similar in 2011.


In 1971 we saw a sign for a hotel which amused us for Inishbofin was a distant island. ‘When in Inishbofin just seemed like an impossibility.


We didn’t stay there, but in 2011 we took the ferry and visited the island.


And that’s the Doonmore Hotel. On our return on the ferry I sat next to a lass who had a student placement, working at the Doonmore Hotel.

Near our campsite there was a cillin. These are sad for they are burial grounds for children who died in the famine of the 1840s and 1850s.


Back in 1971 it was just a chance discovery which fascinated us for we had no idea whether this was something truly ancient or not. If we remember back to 1971 we had no internet to look things up and as youngsters, we didn’t think to ask people who might know. And of course we were on our honeymoon and had other things on our mind. In 2011 we could look things up and learn more – and we now had that ability to talk to others.


The cillin was still there, of course.

I have no 1971 equivalent but the beach was etched in our memories. This was what we were returning to see.