Dover's Western Heights

I've realised that it's been a jolly long time since I last blogged about a historical site, so here you go...

Yesterday we went to an exclusive English Heritage members' event at the Western Heights in Dover to see, amongst other things, the Drop Redoubt Fort and the Grand Shaft. The Western Heights is on the opposing hill to that of Dover Castle, one of our favourite places. Dover Castle is special to us, not only because we love its history spanning from the Romans to the Cold War, but because it was where we spent our first proper date day out after we'd told everyone who needed to know that we were a couple (this was a big deal and another story for another time). The secret war tunnels beneath the castle gave birth to my husband's fascination with hidden locations especially those that are underground. As this was essentially my fault - it had been my suggestion to go to Dover - I now have to be party to various adventures that take us to exciting and often scary places.

So this Sunday we went to the Western Heights. The Drop Redoubt fort is hidden high within the cliffs, built initially in the event of a Napoleonic invasion and then developed during the Victorian period. Now, I know (and indeed care) little for neither Georgian nor Victorian history. It makes great costume drama, and that's about it. Nevertheless there are occasions where my interest is stirred, and my find myself unwittingly drawn to a period that I generally make no secret of despising. This was one such occasion. We were given a tour by two eminent historians of the Western Heights Preservation Society (I say eminent because I think it would please them to be thought of as such). And it was fascinating. The tour was long - almost 4 hours - and involved lots of walking through woodland, up and down hills and steps, and occasionally crossing a road favoured by Dover's more manic drivers. It was also a gorgeous summer's day, and we were outside a lot more than we had anticipated so we both caught the sun a little, oops... I'll admit that I did switch off at times - my mind kept wandering to "Oh I should have packed sun cream...is my nose going red?," and "Why does Vodafone think I'm in France?" and "When do we next get to eat?" But for the majority of the time my attention was held, which is no mean feat.

The highlights of the tour were the Drop Redoubt and the Grand Shaft.

At the Redoubt we were met by two genuine historical artefacts - Napoleonic soldiers who had magically sprung back to life to welcome us, with just a little disdain, into their fort. They proceeded to tell us all about their regiment, uniforms, and weapons, and then fired their guns to scare the wits out of us all.

The Drop Redoubt

After that we were hurried up (more) steps to the very top of the fort to see the barracks, and to admire the views across Dover to the castle and across the Channel to France. And also to see a fake Roman monument (oh how I chuckled). After more fortness it was a trek down the hillside some way to the Grand Shaft...

The Grand Shaft is what my husband really wanted to see, and therefore what I wanted to see also. It is a triple staircase leading from Grand Shaft barracks, all now virtually disappeared, to the seafront below. In the event of an attack the soldiers could make their way down the different staircases rather than going up to the road and following that down instead. Much more swift I'm sure you'll agree. Our historians informed us that the staircases were designed and developed by a gentleman called Twiss , who completed them at £700 under budget. Wish we could employ his ilk at the council...

One set of stairs totalled 140, so that's 420 in absolute total - thank goodness you don't have to climb that many at once! There are a further 60-odd steps from where the barracks were down to the top entrance to the Shaft. By this time in the tour we were physically exhausted. We'd spent the day before traipsing around Brighton on a shopping trip, so by this point in the weekend we were well and truly ready to keel over. However, as we were quite bit younger than our fellow tourists we had to look sharp and descend the stairs like men! Well, going down is always easier than going up... When we got to the bottom my husband announced that he wished to have his photograph taken from the top. Because I love him I agreed. Half way up I thought I would die. But then a I was overcome by a strange dreamlike mist and found myself ascending as if by fairy wings... Actually I made that up, but I did, much to my amazement, make it the top much quicker than I expected and I was still able to breathe, huzzah!

View up the Great Shaft from the bottom

After that we broke off from the rest of the tour group as we'd been the only people foolish enough to travel by public transport so had no need to walk back to the car park. After the staircase I must have gotten a little lightheaded as I suddenly felt incredibly fit and began to lead us down a suspiciously overgrown footpath. Several scratches later we emerged at a dead-end. Only trees, nettles, and a tunnel... The tunnel was blocked off but just seeing it was enough to please my husband, and it was with a big grin on his face that he led us back through the brambles to the main bridleway and we somehow made it back to the station with a few minutes to spare for our train home.

We returned home with aching limbs and every muscle feeling extraordinarily toned (if only it worked like that), and decided to round off our day with Chinese takeaway and a double-bill of Lost. We slept well.

It was a good day out. The historians who led the tour did really well; they made Napeoleonic and Victorian military history interesting as they placed the defensive history of the Western Heights in context. The soldiers in costume were a great touch. My husband has found his passion for the secrets of underground Dover even more fuelled than before *loving sigh* For now he'll just have to enjoy our photos, and pore over the chapter 'The Secret State' in Underground England by Stephen Smith which he was given a couple of Christmases ago.

No plans for our next historical adventure yet, but there will be one before too long, I'm sure!

Photos my own.

Lightning Strikes

I wrote a blog entry a couple of years ago on my fear of thunder and lightning storms. Since then I've been fortunate enough to only experience one or two such storms. However, I got to experience the biggest one we've had in a while a couple of weeks ago. It was actually three storms, one after the other.

I am worse with storms at night, but during the day isn't great either. These were during the day when I was at work. I was surrounded by other people, which helps to an extent. I also work in the tallest building in town on top of the highest hill in town... It has lightning conductors, but so what!? Even my colleagues that do not normally delight in the same phobia as I do were scared by these storms.

From my desk I have a spectacular view across the Ouse Valley with the South Downs looming either side, Kingston Ridge to the right and Firle Beacon to the left. This view gets me through my working day - I'm reminded of the beauty of my county and the glory of God whenever I look at it, whether it rains or shines, when it is steeped in fog or when the skies are clearest blue.

So watching a storm play out across this view was one of the most amazing things I've experienced. The first storm rolled in and the thunder rumbled menacingly, growing louder and louder. We were aware of lightning, occasionally seeing a fork in the distance when we looked up from work. The second storm followed much the same. Then the third storm came crashing in and now I was completely distracted. The lightning forked out over the valley, reaching for the Downs on either side. It was stunning. It was terrifying. It was beautiful. I will always be afraid of thunder storms, but I am so glad I got to appreciate one in this way, to witness the beauty and the terror combined whilst in relative safety. I am now facing the challenge of putting what I saw into words - I want to try with poetry, which is most certainly not my strongest form of writing, but that awe-inspiring sight keeps conjuring up images, words, and feelings in my brain that must be put on paper...

I should probably admit that I was distracted from work for a good hour - a combination of fear and excitement, and then ultimate distraction with the light show. But, I also kept checking out this awesome website where you can track a storm's progression in most of the UK and northern France. It's a storm chaser's dream. And, if you're like me, brontophobia does turn you into a little (desk-based) storm chaser, because there's nothing like scaring yourself that you're phobia is on it's way...

Blue Remembered Hills

Just over a week ago we came back from a holiday in Shropshire to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. We ended up there sort of by mistake. We knew we wanted to go away for our first anniversary, and we both had fond memories of childhood holidays in Dorset so thought we would go there. However, by the time we came round to booking a cottage most places weren't available for the week we wanted. A friend of ours had just come back from a holiday in the Forest of Dean and highly recommended it, so we took our search to Herefordshire. Little did we realise that the website we chose was for cottages in Herefordshire and surrounding counties, and it was about a week before we went away that we realised we would actually be staying in Shropshire. It didn't matter, it was still somewhere new for us to adventure and a chance to escape from everything.

We didn't know what to expect but when we arrived we were very pleased with our choice. Shropshire is an incredibly beautiful county. It is so lush and green, very hilly, and very rural. Our cottage was on the edge of a farm in a tiny hamlet. We couldn't have picked a more tranquil location.

Eager to explore (because that's how we rest) we very quickly discovered there was a lot to see in Shropshire - an abundance of National Trust and English Heritage properties around, plenty of walks, and pretty towns. We strayed into the neighbouring county of Worcestershire most days as we were close to the border, also very lovely and green. We went on many adventures, including cycling in the Wyre Forest which proved just how unfit we both are and that we need to invest in bikes to work on that! We explored some historical sites - Stokesay Castle, Ludlow Castle, Wroxeter Roman City, Witley Court, Kinver Edge Rock Houses, the Severn Valley Steam Railway, Worcester Cathedral, and the famous Iron Bridge and Tar Tunnel (there's lots to see up at Ironbridge near Telford, but we were only there for a flying visit!). We ate out at some lovely pubs or we stayed in and cooked for each other, winding down with puzzle books and games of Carcassonne. We ate cream teas or cake most days. We went exploring on random drives and walks. We did even stray into Herefordshire for one day - to see Berrington Hall, which has excellent Below Stairs tours - learning about the lives of the servants is so much more interesting than visiting just another posh stately home - highly recommend this one for something a bit different by the National Trust! All in all it was a relaxing holiday, surrounded every way we looked by beautiful countryside. A chance to be away from it all, exploring somewhere new, just the two of us.

Into my heart an air that kills

From yon far county blows:

What are those blue remembered hills,

What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,

I see it shining plain,

The happy highways where I went

And cannot come again.

A E Housman, from A Shropshire Lad

Photos my own.

Paper

This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.

Genesis 2:23

Just over a week ago my husband and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary. We were on holiday in Shropshire, had a lovely day in the countryside, before spending the evening in our holiday cottage sharing a meal and relaxing together.

We can't quite believe a year has gone so fast and yet at the same time it feels like we've been married for ages. Our wedding day certainly feels like it was only a couple of weeks ago! It was such a fantastic day to spend with our loved ones, and I've actually missed the wedding planning this year! One of our best friends filmed the day and he finally gave us the DVD a few weeks ago. It brought many special moments flooding back. Although we won't forget our wedding it was great to see things more from our guests' perspective, to relive the feeling of butterflies before the ceremony began, the laughter at the speeches, the wise words of the rector during his address, to hear our amazing band again, and see the vibrancy of the smiles, the colours, and the joy of the day.

Our first year of marriage has not been perfect. We've had ups and downs. We've laughed and cried together. We've gone through some tough stuff and some really great stuff. We've got closer to God. We're still best friends, and yet we understand each other so much more than a year ago. We know that there is still more for us to learn about each other and it is together that we look forward to the future.

Photo by Jess Foreman, our wedding photographer.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

One of the joys of having our own garden is that we can be green-fingered again. It's a fairly small garden, mostly old brick paving and gravel, with a raised flowerbed running along one side, and a low one on the opposite side. There were already plenty of plants growing when we moved in, most notably the camellia climbing up the side of the old privy (now the "shed" and home to the washing machine!).

We decided to add to what was already here by attempting to grow some of our own fruit and veg. So gamely we planted seeds and saplings - tomatoes, courgettes, aubergine, peas, lettuce, butternut squash, summer squash, sweet peppers and chilli peppers. The squash and peppers had to be started off indoors but we have good sized windowsills and the house gets a lot of sun during the day (when it is shining of course!) There were also strawberry and raspberry plants already in the garden, much to our delight!

Well, we've had a few problems. Slugs and snails took a real liking to the courgettes. We tried the humane methods - putting orange slices down because they love citrus so would eat those instead - sadly they're greedy little monsters - they'd nom at the orange and then gulp down some courgette leaves for afters! Then we tried the beer trap. This merely became a woodlice graveyard. So, it was to the inevitable pellets we had to turn. Thankfully we found an organic and animal-friendly (except to slugs and snails) brand in Oxfam, and it is working a treat. The courgette plant has sprung back to life, and it is with much excitement that we can see them growing - looks like we're in for a good crop all being well, and the zucchini flowers have been popping up too (not sure our current healthy eating phase will allow us to eat these fried with cheese Italian-style though...) We've also got tomatoes appearing now, and the lettuce is blooming like crazy! Sadly the aubergines and peas didn't make it - first slimy predators, then windy weather proved too much.

Indoors, the squashes are generally flourishing - the butternut better than the summer - but we're giving them time. Hopefully it won't be too long before they can be moved outside. Our chilli pepper is fighting valiantly on after multiple aphid attacks and a nasty virus. We hope it'll make it!

In the garden already we've had the joy of seeing different flowers throughout spring, and now there are many blooming into summer too. In April there was a whole blanket of bluebells across the lower flowerbed, which were a real joy to see, especially as we didn't have a chance to go walking in the woods during bluebell season this year - instead we could admire them at home whilst enjoying a cup of tea and cake! Now we have stunning roses - an ancient red rose bush is clambering up the side of the house, and a pretty pink one is now covering the patch where where most of the bluebells were.

We also have a grapevine! It's pretty small and had been very much cut back when we moved in. We bought a willow trellis for it to climb up, and it's been flourishing ever since. We very much doubt we'll get reasonable grapes, so our wine-making dreams are currently on hold, but it's nice to see, and we're thoroughly enjoying all of these different wonders in our own back yard.

Oh, and one last thing- we live in quite a community-spirited neighbourhood. All of the houses open straight out onto the street so there are no front gardens, but everyone is encouraged to join in beautifying our street with flowerpots outside. Ours is full of purple and yellow violas which compliment our yellow front door (even when it comes to flowers I have to colour coordinate!), and there were enough left over to put in little pots by our growing fruits which are encouraging the bees and keeping things looking cheerful.

Will keep you updated on how our fruit and veg develops!

Photos my own.

The Welcome Back Party

Last night our house group (Bible study group) travelled up to the airport to welcome two of our members back to the UK. They have just returned from mission overseas for the past five months, and we decided to surprise them as they came through the arrivals gate.

They were expecting only our house group leaders to meet them, so the rest of us hid behind a (hardly sufficient) pillar and awaited a signal from our leaders. It was so funny - as soon as their flight number displayed 'Baggage in Hall' we ran into position. Having chosen a rather tall and narrow object to hide behind we formed a long line - it looked like we were all being very British about queueing to order coffee or something from the pillar, and seemed to offer much amusement to other people waiting for loved ones. We stood giggling there for about 15 minutes, and almost got into a fight with a member of staff driving a buggy through who complained about the way we were all standing... But there was no time to argue because our leaders had run forward to greet our friends and that was the cue for the rest of us to jump out and run to them as well. They looked bewildered and very, very happy as we all hugged them until they could hardly breathe!

Once we'd all had a chance to exchange greetings and let them get their breath back, some of the lads hauled their luggage off to one of the cars whilst we all made our way to one of the cafes for tea and a catch-up. They have had an awesome experience, and it was great to hear some of that and what God has been showing them and where He is leading them to next. It was also just brilliant to see them again - within minutes it felt like they'd been away for hardly any time at all.

Our leader joked that we better not let the church leadership team we were having a welcome party up at the airport instead of serious Bible study that night. But you know what, God revels in our joy too, and being there for each other is part of what being in Christian fellowship is all about. I have no doubt that He was laughing as much as we were while we hid behind that pillar and I have no doubt that His heart welled with joy as much as ours did when we saw them coming through the gate.

And what can I say - road trips on a school night rock!

Discipline

Discipline. A word I am not terribly keen on. A word that actually I don't ever really like to hear. It's a word that reminds me of my flaws. A word, that when shone onto my personality reveals what I prefer not to notice. What I would like to hide.

I am creative. I have a mind that wanders. I daydream. And one day, somehow, my creative genius will explode into full being and will make me become who I was designed to be. I will write novels as an uncontrollable flow of amazing stories spills forth from my brain, my house will be stunningly welcoming and tidy, my body will be slim and glowing with health, and I will be at peace with myself and all those around me. Discipline? Pah! That's just for people who operate that way. I wasn't designed that way. That's not how I work.

Why, then, does God keep challenging me about this? Why is it that last weekend in both sermons, morning and evening services, did He speak so clearly to me about this one word that I would pretend isn't even part of my language, let alone my comprehension? Because discipline, perhaps the one part of me that I know requires the most work, is what it will take to be who I was made to be. To produce those astounding stories, to have a house that is welcoming and manageable, and to be healthy, requires discipline. I have just managed to convince myself that I am a personality designed to operate without discipline.

At the evening service the curate gave the sermon on Genesis 1:26-2:3, focusing on God's plan. None of this world, none of us, not you nor me, was made by chance. God planned it all from the outset, and His creation was meticulous, His natural world works just how it was meant to. Yet look at it, so amazing, so stunningly beautiful - only the most amazing artist could create such beauty. What? More creative than any other and disciplined? And we were made in God's image, which means...?

To fulfil my potential as a creative writer, and all those other aspects of my life, I now recognise that I need to be disciplined. Our curate is an artist, which is what he trained in before he turned to theology, and he still produces stunning work. What helps me is that he struggles like I do, that he has realised over time that he needs to inject discipline into his life in order to make things run smoothly in his work. Admin is the task he finds hardest, but he's found that, rather than letting it slide because he's "creative" and it's ok to ignore the "boring" stuff, that if he takes control of that aspect of his life and works at it, his filing system and organisation has improved.

He described it to me in a way I hadn't thought of before. Organisation and precision is something that really irritates me about other people. And that's because it is an aspect of God that I have ignored, that I have tried to live without. In order for my creativeness to flourish I need to have that tempered more deliberate side to my life. And it takes work. It is difficult. But life isn't easy, and if it were, where would the great successes come from?

I'm not trying to say, and neither do I believe God is, or indeed our curate, that people aren't different. There will always be people who are naturally organised and keep things running down to the finest detail. There will always be people who lose themselves in their creativity and who seem to enter a different world of their own in the deepest throes of their work (I forget to eat when I'm writing fiction!) But it seems to me, as I get older, that one doesn't completely work without the other.

What was said to me on Sunday, and what God has been prompting me with recently in all the different ways He speaks to me, shows that this area of my life can't be ignored any more and seriously needs some work. But I don't have to do it alone. He's in this with me, guiding me, showing me how, continuing to shape me to fulfil my purpose for Him on this earth.

Discipline won't make my life perfect, but it does allow me to be free. I always thought it meant being a slave to the boring, the routine. Yet it will actually allow me to be who I'm meant to be.