Wittering in Bracklesham

There is nothing that brings a smile to the face of a Franklin or Bradford quite so readily as a mention of Bracklesham Bay.  Come to think of it, there's a few Coughlans whose faces will lighten at the mere suggestion.  Some Green's as well.

Day three in Sussex and backtracking on a world of happy memories.  I can recall the journey being exremely tedious and filled with "are we there yet?" quite regularly.  I can remember halfway being somewhere in the vicinity of Burgh Heath but I could be way off track on that one.  Back in the day I made that journey in a bright yellow Lotus Elan, a large black Cadillac (with a black and white TV in the back...Quite ahead of its time in 1969 as it was on the calendar); a variety of small and dangerous mini's, a vanguard saloon car and no doubt many other carriages besides.

On this day in 2012 we travelled in another age, in comfort and with a different mindset.  Distance as you age seems not to have the same debilitating effect that it has on children.  Stop, I need a wee!

The road into Bracklesham is littered with derelict past times..The Selsey Tram is boarded up and other once gleaming premises now look more than a little jaded.  The Lively Lady would perhaps be better addressed as the grubby old tart circa 2012.  Shame!

As we headed out from from the Chichester roundabout my mind always seems to turn back to a time when in the company of the Green's, we watched Roger Moore as James Bond in Live and Let Die.  1973 it was and at 15 years old I was the senior kid of a bunch of nine.  If I happen to glance at that movie now I cringe...What possessed them to dress like that?

I digress....and probably will again so please excuse me.

Our first port of call was Dell Quay and the Pub on the water front.  Coffee's for the travelling party on the deck.  Dell Quay looked a little gray on this day but has some spectacular sunsets in the summer months.  The pub like any quality British hostelry; had character in abundance.

Coffee drunk and recognising we were slightly early for lunch we took a drive out to Chichester Harbour.  Yet again a distant memory always leaps to the front of my cranium when I revisit this place.  It goes like...."We all love daddy because he's nice and good".  I'll stop right there because again I'm starting to cringe.  The harbour yet again seems smaller than I remember; less larger than life.  Perhaps there's some role reversal going on here and its me that is now larger than life!  Have to give that some thought.  Certainly larger than I was back in the day.

 

 

 

It was then back to the car and off to the seaside. Driving past Holdens Holiday Camp, Cliffords Cottage (green infested thatched roof :-( ). The aformentioned Grubby Slag and then a right turn an off into East Wittering.

 



Lunchtime after a bit of fresh sea air beckoned and we reckoned on a pub on one of the backroads out of East Wittering.  The pub sadly on arrival presented as another derelict hulk closed due to the lack of seasiders during the summer.  I remeber this pub being a busy vibrant place where we played Bar Billiards and drank Ginger Beer or Lemonade Shandy as kids.  Lashings as I recall.  It was abouth this time I can remember ploughing through all the Enid Blyton Famous Five hardbacks while resting in the bedroom at Southbrook.  Dark red book covers with gold embossed titles.  Hurrah for Kirrin Island, Aunt Fanny and Uncle Quentin.

 

We continued along the same road and eventually at a cross roads spotted a sign for Itchenor.  So 'twas then we tripped to Itchenor Harbour to find a pub.  Generally a good bet one will be there and generally serving good food for well behaved customers.  We took a walk down to the front, breathed a couple times; remarked on the view and then headed to the pub to eat.  Some excellent sandwiches and a decent pint of beer.  Misty, Chris and Pauls Spaniel was our leashed company.  A great dog by the way!!

 

 

 

 

Appetite satisfied it was time to head into East Wittering, take a walk along the beach to Bracklesham and recall vividly the dozens of gatherings on the beach, the wood fires, the singing and the arrest of myself in a sad case of mistaken identity.  A madman wearing yellow swimming trunks was reported missing from a local asylum (so the story goes!)  I apparently fitted the description perfectly.  It was close run thing because without others to plead my innocence alongside me I might still be incarcerated to this very day.

 

Shore Road is quite similar to what it was.  The stores have changed a little nonetheless.  The Singing Sands has stoped singing.  Tesco and the Co-op are now present.  The Butchers, Greengrocers, Sweetshop and some other diehards remain, and thats nice.  I actually had a request from new work colleages in Canada to bring old fashioned toffees back.  Until this sweetshop I couldn't find what was required.

 

Shore Road was much the same and walking past Munneries I remember all of us staying there once with Mum.  It was the closest to the beach we could afford at that time but no worries.  Took no time to get to the beach and we did what we always did back then, made do with a large smile on the face.

 





 

 

Dolphins and Southbrook are not what they were.  The magic that was both those holiday homes has been replaced by modern, confortable buildings totally out of keeping with what seaside holiday homes should be about.  If its not a couple of old train carriages welded together or a ramshackle old hut with a slanted roof drop off its not going to cut it.  Southbrook was magic; it had something very special.  Granted it was probably as much to do with the company as anything else, but I can still see the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedrooms and the do eveything and anything room across the back of the whole house.  Loved that place; it gave us so many smiles when we most needed then.  Back in those days ten quid covered holiday costs from ice creams to games to souvenirs to postcards.

 

Dolphins was more upmarket but still had a familiar smell and air about it.  The greatest con of all time took place in a caravan in the back garden.  We kids took money from the adults to buy ice creams and coke and crisps and then sold them back to the adults 'shop front' style and made a profit.  In hindsight we would have saved loads of time just asking for the cash but then the fun would have evapourated.

 

 

 

 

Another first occurred here in Bracklesham and that was rock pooling.  At the end of each breakwater (groyne) the sand washed out and crabs and all manner of sea creatures without the brines to catch the returning tide loitered without intent.

 

 

 

 

One of the beach front homes had a wall mural that captured the 2012 Olympic success enjoyed by Team GB very nicely.

 

 

 

 

Our last visit along memory lane was Sorrento.  I stayed here with Chris, Paul and then their very young family.  Brother Mark was also there as were Colin and Pauline Lambert and their two young children Shane and Kelly.  We painted stomes from the beach, we doodle-arted to our hearts content, we played cards.  Goodnight and may your God Go with You Mark called out after a round of Waltons style goodnights and the whole house collapsed in tears of laughter.

 

 

Bracklesham Bay and East Wittering fondly remembered but the heyday now distant and lost in another time.  Goodbye fancy dress; goodbye taking turns making the dinner; goodbye a golden age.

 

 







Steam Pudding

Day two in sunny Sussex and a leisurely trip into Burgess Hill to grab cash and start buying Brit Gifts for family and friends back in Canada.  Paul did some Gym time while Christine, Kim and me hopped across the Road to visit cousins Becky, Annie and their little kiddlers.  Becky and Annie are Maggie and Richard's daughters and sisters to Jamie (a visitor to our log home last year).

Annie's children are Harrison, Poppy and Julia and Beck'y little one is called Adam.  Harrison is extremely bright and gave me a tour of his room, hobbies and friends.  In writing this note I am minded I promised to send some rocks and gems to him for his collection.

Being late writing a journal means certain things fade from the memory so I'm guessing that 'twas on this Tuesday that we were blessed to receive a steam pudding at our table.  No finer dessert in the land!

Hassocks and Cassocks

0600 and it is reveille.....Time to rise, say farewell to Pilning and all the loveliness that therein abides.  Probably just as well we left then as after seeing the bunny rabbit vet bill today (9th November) we would probably have been on a diet of bread and water.

Reece and Marcus were both hugged large and we got underway at 7am.  It would be a little while before we got to see the boys again but in manly fashion we kept control of our emotions.  It had been a fantastic week with two great lads.  We had laughed till we cried, we cooked together, we gambled together, we golfed and skittled together and just had a riot.  I will miss their company and their humour; much quite obviously inherited from their hilarious father.

We thanked Cherie and Di before putting the pedal to the metal and heading to the M5.

We had the option of cutting south on the M4 at Newbury but stayed the course to the M25.  A decent choice in the end as this normally challenging ring road can be distressing when gridlocked.

We arrived in Hassocks at 1130 and met Paul with our luggage in hand.  We had a brief dicussion over our travel plans and fortunatley Paul agreed to run us to the airport on our last day in the UK six days hence.  The lift necessary because I was about to drive to Gatwick and lose the Ford Fiesta Diesel which had served us so well for the previous three weeks.

30 minutes later I was delivering the car; 35 minutes later I was on my way to the train station to head back to Hassocks.  I moved swiftly and grabbed a ticket before jumping on a train which arrived at the platform at the same time as me.

I was back nattering to Paul and waiting on Christine by 1245.  Hassocks, for those following the tales of Father Moriarty, was the last known sighting of the poor old soak.

Once Christine landed home we plumped for a trip to the National Trust Gardens at Sheffield Park.  It was a beautiful walk round a fantastic place.

The afternoon capped off with a pot of tea before heading back to Hassocks and another evening with family.  A visit from Maggie at 7pm and a lovely reconnect preceded dinner.  Lovely cold cuts of roast beef, salad and mashed potato; a glass of red wine and a reasonably early night. 

The last phase of our trip was underway.

Mist to Mint and Roast Lamb Spectacular

Sunday after a curry can sometimes be challenging.  Depends on the spice and the heat generally.  We were remarkably unaffected in the appetite department and breakfasted well before Kim, Diane and I headed off with Betty and Doo Doo to the Severn Beach for a walk along the promenade.

The morning mist translated into fog over the Severn and further down in the Bristol Channel.  Quite an eerie sight to be fair.

We were back in time to see some more fine timing going on in the kitchen as Cherie set about putting a Roast Lamb Lunch on the table.  We had visitors as well on this day as Caroline and her mum Shirley joined us.  Both had been front and centre when we played skittles earlier in the week.  Writing this memory now it feels like a decade ago.

Caroline brought a traditional Sherry Trifle with quite a bite and we spent a couple of hours enjoying our meal before settling into an afternoon of natter and chatter.  The meal was an absolute triumph...Cherie had produced a rosemary based onion sauce to die for and the whole meal was just a delight.

It is always difficult the day before moving on to pastures new not to be preoccupied with packing and stacking stuff just to get ahead of the game.  With an early start also on the agenda filling the car before bed was also necessary.

I want to include a family shot with me, my sister and my sons, a marker set down for our next reunion whether that be in the UK or Canada.

Tomorrow morning would be Kim and I saying farewell to Reece and Marcus as well as Cherie and Diane and yet again it would be manly hugs and brave face (for me anyway).  The time with my sons could not have been better and we really reconnected on another level.  Part of that reconnection occurred before I went to bed that night as one son held me down and the other delivered a huge Franklin style raspberry to my stomach.  Such an assault and the accompanying sound must always be accepted with dignity.  After so much eating on this trip Marcus had a fairly large target area to aim for!

AP McCoy, Myxy Bunny & Mixed Bhuna

Saturday started with sadness as Coco the Rabbit afflicted with Myxemotosis had to be escorted to the vet to collect a ticket to rainbow warren.  Our day planned with seven of us travelling to Stroud then Cheltenham now reduced to five as Cherie and Diane had fumigation and incineration duties to try and contain the disease and limit its spread to the other two bunnies.

We got underway pretty soon after breakfast using one car now for the trip.  First port of call was Stroud; cashpoint machine and take away snacks.  Better to eat from the supermarket shelves than pay extortionate prices at Cheltenham Races we decided.

A particularly stupid Sainsbury's car park presented the greatest challenge....and it had obviously just been parachuted into a densely built area.  It was all over the shop!  literally.

Nest stop was Holly Trees home of sister Nicky and nieces Kathryn and Hannah.  Beautiful house with a view from the rear garden to die for.  We had hugs and coffee before taking Kathryn with us to the races for the day.  We would all meet up later in the same day for a Curry House Take Away that would blow the average mind.

Our drive to Cheltenham was pretty uneventful until we got within a couple of miles of the track when it slowed a little.  No real aggravation though and we were in good time and ready to get betting on the first race.  First task was to buy entry tickets and it will amuse Canadian folks hugely to know there are best mates tickets and that there is a best mates enclosure.  10 pounds per head is all it costs.  I can only imagine the track is betting on extra cash from punters being passed over the bar counter or more so into the hands of the bookies eagerly waiting to skin the gathering throng.

Pre race drinks was not going to occur because of the knee deep humanity blocking the bar so we queued and placed our first race bets.  Kim and I had budgeted for 5 squids per race each and so it began.

The Cheltenham Racecourse is beautiful and it rolls away from the stands and enclosure.  Watchers can see the horses at every point around the course.  In the background before the first race a steam train, a memory of a bygone age, huffed along the tracks.  At least I imagine it huffed as is was too distant to hear.  The steam was quite visible however.

First race and Marcus came out smiling with 65 notes for backing the winner.  Second race and Kathryn and Reece made some headway.  By the end of the third race and with no return for our bets, kim and I were a little concerned.  We reminded ourselves of a shocking day at the dogs in Brighton where we won nothing all night.  On that ocassion we even had family leaving our table to avoid the jinx factor.  Funnily enough in our last week of holiday we would be outside that same dog track.

Race 4 and we raised the ante a bit adding a third horse to the bet.  Lo and behold it came home in front and we were 40 pounds to the good and now only 10 pounds down on the days betting.

In between races four and five we were priviledged to see Arkel win his 14th consecutive race and at Ascot on the big screen.  It was like being at Ascot watching the horse start poorly and hearing the collective groans from the Cheltenham Main Stand.  The horse came through in the end and the stand erupted in front of us in an explosion of noise; noise which had built through the final furlong with a vengeance.

History observed we now stood by clutching betting slips in hand for our last race of the day.  We planned an early departure to miss the traffic and get to see Nicky and Hannah at the stables before grabbing large Curry for dinner.

The last race was a stormer; really exciting to watch and another really close finish greeted by a massive cheer from all sides.  best mates erupted left right and centre including Reece Kim and I.  We had nailed the winner on our last outing and this time 55 quid into the pocket.  Here's Kim collecting our dosh!!

 

First time I have ever been to an event like this and come out ahead at the end of the day.  We had allowed ourselves 50 pounds for betting at the start and bet 60.  We walked out with 95 notes and smiles wider than the severn bridge.  Hurrah.

Next stop was the stables near Brookthorpe and a visit to Nicky's little tea shop wedged between horse dollop and straw at the stables.  Not as clean as Nicky's own kitchen though, I have to say.

We met Phoenix a giant horse pictured here and Hannah's slightly less gigantic mount and chatted while the farm girls did some cleaning business.  We marvelled for an age at Nicky's footwear.  Only a picture would do it justice.

Our Curry was a massive affair and only the whole back seat of the car would suffice to carry it.  We ate enjoyed and laughed our way through another evening.  Cherie even found time to splutter outrageously and spew wine across a number of guests and the table.  The cause of her explosion?  Nicky.  Cherie happened to mention hearing a voice from the past about 15 years hitherto.  Nicky suggested it might have been our old cat Puffin (HR Puffinstuff).  Contagious hysterics followed.  We played the names on the head game and then limericks and eventually folded into bed once Nicky, Kathryn and Hannah had departed for home.

Always sad to say goodbye to family in stages as our trip progressed but how can you complain at having to say goodbye.  It's a sure sign there was a hello not long before.....

Definately Yes Chef!

Fridays agenda had been predetermined.  It was the day when the house guests would take to the kitchen and prepare a fine dining experience, while the householders repaired to the comfort of the lounge.

The day initially involved much chatter and natter among the lads as they toured the supermarket looking for ingredients.  Chef wanted some professional shopping time but Oh No! his father and brother just couldn't let him wander around without routinely consulting him on menu choices or ingredients.

The job was finally done without undue distress and with Reece at the wheel we headed back to Pilning.

Lunch was an awesome affair with at short notice a plan to visit a fine hostelry many long and winding roads in all directions the compass had to offer.  The White Hart was the name of the ale house and it was fantastic.  This old boy enjoyed a pint of Youngs Special, home made pork scratchings, all  before devouring Faggots in Gravy with Champ Mash.  The UK dining extravaganza was nearly complete with ticks in all the home dish boxes.

The countrside in this part of the world is very special and the villages boast pubs with real old english character.  Fine places just to sit and vegitate or engage locals in conversation.  Just so long as you can articulate in a Gloucester accent.  Not easy to understand for outsiders.

The menu was interesting to say the least and in the hours in the kitchen I really got to recognise the skills that Marcus has when it comes to preparing and presenting food.  His timing is impeccable and the food just beyond imagination. 

Papa Shango here took on the starter and after thinking about stilton wilted spinach mushrooms opted for a personal favourite and a desire to learn just how to put it together.  Breaded Brie in Breadcrumbs deep fried and with an apricot compote.  I had no idea that breading effectively often required layering with crumbs not once but three times.  There is no picture of my dish as we were all too busy eating it to bother!

Reece went for the calorie buster desert with a chcolate mouse on a butterscotch biscuit base topped with whipped cream.

Marcus produced a wrapped chicken dish using a technique I had never seen before.  The chicken has proscuitto or parma ham with a boursin cheese filling and is then rolled and wrapped and sealed in clingfilm before being boiled to keep all the flavour in.  The finished article is then grilled before being plated and served.

We spent much time being prompted by Cherie to say YES CHEF and NO CHEF and meanwhile I was enjoying a glass or two of fine flat scrumped cider from the local farm shop.  To Marcus as a chef and son I salute you.  Reece for your enthusiasm and a remarkable end product that had you excited, I also salute you.

The dinner was a great success and we celebrated each other and being proud family.  That my children dearly love spending time with their old auntie`s Cherie and Diane is a legacy of years of fantastic times while the kids were growing up.  There are so many tales to tell and so many pictures of the kids in Dursley, Newport Parrog, Berkely and Caldicott Castle`s and just generally in the very warm and welcoming west country. 

The gathering in the lounge in the evening still chewing the fat was marvelous.  I can highly recommend it.