South West holiday - The Sea

Today the cheap holiday was briefly derailed so I could go buy a new raincoat, the old one having finally succumbed after years of hard service and The Kinderscout Incident, after which it has never been the same.  I like the new one though, and it's a little bit smarter so it will do for work as well.

That done, I let the sat nav drive me to Burley by any number of tiny back roads.  Some lovely scenery though, and it gave the day time to turn from a misty cool morning into a day of cloud breaks, sudden sunbursts and, dare I say it, warmth.  I stripped right back down to my Tshirt.



I like Burley a lot.  It's very tiny, almost not there, but the surrounding countryside is wonderful.  You can park above the village in the Forestry Commission car park for free and then just go off wandering into the heath.  Gentle climbs and easy paths take you through the endless purple of the heather in bloom.  It sounds like fanciful poetry, but I swear it's true; when the wind was right, the air smelled like honey.

And there were ponies everywhere.
In gangs of three and five on the moor, thirty of them in a squad at the cricket green, ambling round the pub car park and haunting the woods.  They move through the trees like ghosts, and want little to do with you.  Poised study bodies moving slowly as their constantly graze, apart from their lips, which are rapidly mumbling over the ground.  There are curve-horned cattle up here too, which I stayed well clear of.

Sybil Leek (and Mr Hotfoot Jackson)

After wandering for an hour or so I went down into the village, which is mostly small shops and one large pub.  Burley's claim to fame is a witch namesd Sybil Leek who lived here in the 1950s, announcing herself just after the laws against it were dropped.  She flew the flag proudly and garnered quite a bit of attention; a plump middle-aged lady in a black cloak and a pet crow on her shoulder.  A few of the shops are themed around witchcraft for that reason, and it made me chuckle when I stuck my head in, as if that's what really witchcraft was; a funny hat and some faux-torn clothing in tie-dyed purple.  Not that I want any part in spell-casting, but I know enough wiccans and pagans to know that for all it's spiritual dabbling, it's mostly people in their kitchens, or jumping over a fire on particular days, or trying to feel part of a fringe philosophy.  None of this tourist paraphernalia.

A village has made a living out of one lady who dared to look a bit odd in public.  Well, fair enough.

Popped into the local shop for a few bits, picked up some fudge (for work) and cider (for me), watched the ponies some more.  Obviously I'm enjoying the novelty of them, but it must be a pain when they poo all over the village, and try to get into your garden.  Most of the houses have cattle grids across the drives to keep them out.





Went for a drive down to Brockenhurst (mostly just for the watersplash!) stopping at various points to meader and watch more ponies.  Some mothers and foals were having naps on the roadside.  As long as you don't move to touch them, they don't mind you sitting there quietly.  I'm used to seeing people feeding pigeons and squirrels by the roadside, but not something quite this large!





Finally I headed down to the coast and Milton-on-the-Sea, a gravel beach from which you can see the Needles and lighthouse on the Isle of Wight.

Towards the Needles

I sat here for a long while, mulling to myself and looking out at the sea.  The weather was warm, if a bit too rough for a swim, but I paddled, as I always do.  I've never been to the sea and not gone in it in some capacity.  This time I stayed in the surf, walking along in the foam of the breakers, and suddenly felt moved to read a Psalm out loud s a prayer.  Arbitrarily I picked 24 and 25, and spoke them to the sea, which seemed especially right considering how 24 begins.  I was in tears at a few points but having made it through I felt somehow fresher and more awake afterwards.

Light over the water

Feet in foam

It's funny to be on holiday when people are working.  You're there to look at things, at spectacles, which only are the way they are because people got on and lived their everyday lives.  And now their lives are an attraction.  It's very strange to think that one day our lives, individually and as a mass habit, will provide entertainment and tourism for someone else.  People will visit our homes and say "someone did Something here once."  We can do Something too.  We must not imagine that all the Somethings are done only by other people in the past.  We must make Somethings happen now, to us.

Spent the evening in with the grandparents again, watching University Challenge.  There was a round on Hamilton, of all things, and I got every question right!  And my sister phoned, which was lovely.  I'm now packed up, and ready to head on to Dartmoor tomorrow.


Bed + board: Pleasant company, and a certain amount of opera
Cider and sandwich materials: £5
Fudge x2: £7