Dumpy - Dover Castle's Nuclear Bunker

On Thursday my husband and I headed off an adventure, back to our beloved Dover Castle. This place is particularly special to us as it was where we went for our first big day out together as a couple, after we'd told everyone that we were an item. It was a day where we were liberated to enjoy our relationship without feeling like we were hiding a big secret anymore.*

Anyway, I'd first been there with my family when I was 15, and fell in love with it. It has a history that spans back as far as the Iron Age all the way through to the Cold War, and it is a truly fascinating place. What makes it more unique than any other castle in the country is its the network of underground tunnels. The first of these is Medieval. Then more were built during the Napoleonic era, and really came into significant use during the Second World War. Operation Dynamo, to evacuate troops from Dunkirk in 1940, was conducted from Dover's secret tunnels. I learnt all about this on my first ever trip to Dover. I was intrigued when our guide mysteriously informed us of another set of tunnels, further below, that was used for the Cold War, named DUMPY (Deep Underground Military Position Yellow), but that it was closed to the public for reasons that were not really given...

Fast forward to that special day out when my husband and I were first an item. The tour of the Second World War tunnels was the first thing we did when we arrived that day, and my husband became instantly fascinated with this subterranean world of intrigue, but particularly in relation to the Cold War and nuclear bunkers. Ever since then we have both been really keen to see Dumpy. So, when we spotted that English Heritage were hosting an Exclusive Members tour, opening Dumpy to the public for the first time, of course we had to go!

We travelled up to Dover by train, and then huffed and puffed our way up the very steep hill to get there, only to find that the rest of the castle was closed and that we couldn't get into the grounds until just before the tour was due to start. It was a lovely warm spring day, but we couldn't bear the thought of going back into the town and then walking up that hill again so we stayed just outside the main gate and ate our picnic. With a couple of hours to go, our caffeine levels were beginning to ebb, so my wonderful husband did venture back down the hill to buy us some tea from Costa. It wasn't much longer after that, when more and more history fanatics, urban explorers, and fellow geeks had joined us just outside the gate, when we were allowed into the grounds.

We all convened in one of the site restaurants, where we received an introduction from a group of experts who would be leading our tour, and then we were finally on our way down to Dumpy itself. We were led to a concrete block where we were given yellow lanyards to keep track of us, and then through a door and down some steps to the lift that would take us down to the tunnels.

Our guides wanted us to imagine that we were important members of the civil service who had been called down into Dumpy in the middle of the night. Dumpy was to be a seat of regional government in the event of nuclear attack on Britain, and so personnel were required to kept somewhere 'safe' where they could plan for the aftermath, and communicate with similar bases across the country. Just standing there in front of the lift gave a real sense of the dread that nuclear war could bring. These personnel would have no contact with their families or friends for about a month in the event of a nuclear attack, and they would have no idea how their loved ones would be faring above ground. In fact, due to morale, the information regarding what would have been happening in the country was limited only to those who needed to know for the sake of their role. If you put yourselves in that position, isn't it a sinister feeling? I think I would want to run back and be with my family, and yet the sheer horror of the unknown when it comes to a nuclear bomb, a potential Armageddon, could be enough to freeze you to the spot. Certainly the last thing I would want to do is go and work, even if it was for the good of the country! I couldn't bear not knowing what kind of world I would emerge into at the end of the month. The amount of professionalism and resolve these people would have needed if this situation had ever occurred is really quite remarkable.

The lift down underground...

The personnel who would have been required to work in Dumpy did undertake exercises down there during the 1960s, which apparently felt very real. I found a video by English Heritage on YouTube about this. If this is the sort of thing that you're interested in as well, it's only 10 minutes, so worth a look.

Down in Dumpy itself we were treated to explanations of how communications would have taken place between the other nuclear bunkers and ROC posts in the region and the wider country, how the air conditioning and ventilation worked in such a way as to minimise any potential radiation absorption, the limitations of the water supply and how 28 days was about the maximum time that could 'comfortably' be spent down there, and how the Chief Commander would have managed the staff and dealt with the information that came through to him.

We were taken through a series of corridors, and shown the air conditioning units, the Commander's office, the cabinet meeting room, the science room, the communications area, the small radio broadcasting room, and finally the toilets! Our guides were very informative about what life would be like down there, but they also gave us an insight into what it could be like up above. For example, the BBC would only broadcast a radio announcement at particular times, as people had to conserve batteries, advising people to ration their food and water sensibly, and to stay calm. And that was pretty much it. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult that advice would be when the fear of fallout must be truly terrifying, and that's if you were far enough away from the initial blast!

One of the comms rooms that once was full of teleprinters etc

Unlike the other main visitor tunnels at Dover - Annexe (used as a hospital during the Second World War), and Casemate (used for Operation Dynamo and other important communications) - Dumpy has not been dressed up or designed to create a visitor experience. Whilst I love that about the other tunnels, I also appreciated seeing Dumpy in such a raw format, and understanding just a little more about the Cold War and what the threat of nuclear attack really meant, thanks to our brilliant tour guides, I think it came to life just as much as if the rooms had been recreated as the other tunnels had been. Some visual aids were used, which were greatl, and we got to see plenty of real artefacts which was a treat.

After the tour we were taken up to the old mess hall, which is now used as a wartime themed tea room, where we were treated to tea and coffee, along with some delicious sandwiches and cakes.

I think the tour vividly created a sense of what a terrifying prospect nuclear attack once was, although it also raises many questions about just how capable the government would really have been if it had ever happened. With the kind of disaster they perceived, would any of their planned methods of governance have made any difference? And would they really have operated that efficiently? How could a few people underground cope with the masses above ground who were fighting to survive with limited resources and fear of radiation? I guess that's why the nuclear holocaust is such a popular topic for books and films, there are lots of 'what ifs?' I know so little about the Cold War generally, and indeed our parents have never mentioned what they thought of it back in their youth, or if the idea of a nuclear attack ever really bothered them. But I have decided to investigate the topic further and learn at least a little more about it.

And we had a great day out, courtesy of another brilliant English Heritage Members Event, huzzah!

Photos my own.

*I appreciate that this may sound quite cryptic. I do intend to explain it on my blog one day, I promise!

Pi, Paddy, a Picnic, and Planets!

The last week has been one of small celebrations that have brightened up March as the sun has begun to shine more, and spring has truly sprung.

The first celebration was Pi Day on 14th March - or March 14th I should say, as it actually makes sense the American way for this occasion ;)  Pi is a highly revered number in this household, something I am reminded of everyday as for years the symbol has been permanently branded on my husband's arm in the form of a very handsome tattoo. This year we didn't do anything irrational to celebrate but we did indulge in steak and stilton pie for dinner that evening. Naughty but delicious. And, you know, it's not appropriate to celebrate Pi without pie!

The second celebration was St Patrick's Day. We're not Irish and we have no Irish blood that we're aware of. But our youth minister comes from Belfast and she planned an Irish themed party for the youth group on Friday. We encouraged fancy dress, played a range of Irish music, and served green lemonade. There were plenty of potato and leprechaun themed games, a quiz on all things St Patrick and Ireland, and the kids got to decorate their own cakes with green icing. The highlight of the evening was when we sat them down to watch a Riverdance video, and as soon as the music grew dramatic all of us leaders burst into the hall attempting Irish stepdancing ourselves - Michael Flatley, eat your heart out! It was hilarious, although I don't know who was laughing more - the youth or the leaders!

The third celebration was Mothers Day. We went up to stay with my husband's family for the weekend, and on the Sunday the grannies came to visit and we all went out to a local country park for a walk. The park was covered in daffodils and many other beautiful spring blooms. We wandered around the nature reserve where we were lucky to see lambs basking in the sunshine, piglets playing together, and many other cool animals, including a raven who cried out rude words! We then headed back to the house for a tea party. We had actually intended to have a picnic at the park but the weather was on the temperamental side, so we decided it was safer to have an indoor picnic instead! There were lots of sandwiches and cakes and plenty of tea. It was lovely, and very relaxing, and as far as I can tell my mother-in-law and grannies-in-law enjoyed themselves. I plan on treating my mum to a gift and afternoon tea later this week.

We got home too late to go the evening service at church, but we still went along for the youth group that's held afterwards. As we were walking down there my husband pointed out Orion. This is nothing new, we can see Orion all the time from where we are, so I decided to go one step better. I proudly pointed out  Jupiter and Venus to the right of us, shining brightly and beautifully in the night sky, and then to the left of us, Mars, its red glow making it stand out especially from the stars we could see around it. My husband checked a phone app to ensure I was correct in my planetary assertions, and indeed I was. OK, I'll admit my knowledge was thanks to one of my friends pointing Jupiter and Venus out to me a few weeks ago, as well  reading my mother-in-law's Guide to the Night Sky that morning, as she is an enthusiastic amateur astronomer. But anyway, how cool is it to see the planets?  Agreed, it's even more fab through a telescope. We got to see Saturn through my mother-in-law's last year, rings and all, awesomeness! Anyway....

Spending a few minutes gazing at the stars and planets was a lovely end to a pretty good week. Next up is an adventure of the historical variety. We're so excited we might not be able to sleep the night before! I hope to report back in a few days!

Thinking About Water

Our latest social justice & advocacy campaign at church is water and sanitation. We're encouraging people to take action by putting pressure on world leaders, who are meeting in Washington DC this April, to place water and sanitation higher on the development agenda. This is part of Water Aid's Water Works campaign, summed up in this brilliant little video:



As you can see, access to clean, safe water has far-reaching benefits, yet it is such a simple initiative.

The campaign is also asking people to post photos of what water means to them, to show just how important clean and safe water systems are. You can find out more on their website: http://www.waterworks.me/.

This has got me thinking about what water does indeed mean to me. I take water, and the constant supply of it, completely for granted. Drinks, washing, cleaning, gardening, food preparation - I use it everyday and rarely stop to think about how privileged I am to have safe, running water on demand.

This campaign comes when our region is facing a 'water crisis' due to two consecutive dry winters. A hosepipe ban is predicted and a the water companies have got a campaign underway to encourage us all to use less water. That's all very well, but I object to the term, 'crisis'. It simply isn't representative of our minor irritation compared to the serious water and drought problems that occur in other parts of the world.

The Water Works campaign vs our media's scaremongering has given me much food for thought. I believe I do need to be more conscious of how much water I am using on a daily basis. It's common sense, because water is truly a precious commodity. But it's also made me stop and be thankful for what I have.

When we stayed on the favela in Brazil I learnt just how little I ever thought about my water use back at home. One of our host families had seven of us staying in their tiny house for three nights, and they provided the meals for the entire team (fifteen in total). Water was delivered by the government about twice a week, and there was a butt on the roof to collect rainwater, which the shower was connected to. The toilet could only be flushed by pouring a bucket of water down it. Obviously this was quite different to what we were used to, but I think we all thought we could cope just fine.

On the first night a group of us did the washing up after dinner, to thank our host family for a delicious meal. On the second night our host mother insisted that she should clean the dishes instead. We thought that she was being too kind, but after some translating we realised that she was politely trying to tell us that we had used too much water the night before! We had just used as much as we pleased, like we would at home, without really thinking about how limited it was. Having seven of us use the shower and toilet for three whole days must have been a huge sacrifice for them. They never once complained but they did guide us on how to be sensible with what we used.

It was definitely an eye-opening experience, and whilst it still challenges me now to be conscientious with how much water I use (even though I fail dismally), it also serves as a reminder of how we've got it made, even with an inconvenient 'drought' to look forward to this summer. Hot and cold water on demand, power showers, clean drinking water direct from the tap, flushing toilets, as well as plenty of water for pleasure, such as fountains and other pretty things.

The contrast of any 'water problem' in the UK to some other countries is sobering indeed. It is a disgrace that so many children in Africa die as a result of diarrhoea everyday. As the Water Works campaign points out, water sanitation is simple, effective, and cheap. With the correct systems in place diarrhoea is preventable, and there are numerous other benefits. Clean, safe water is a basic human need. Let us be grateful that we have it, and let us push for others to have the same!

The Tales That Timeline Tells

I recently changed my Facebook page to the new Timeline style because rumours were circulating that it would eventually be enforced upon all users and I wanted to get to grips with my privacy settings etc before that happened. As with all of Facebook's past changes, I've quickly got used to the new layout and resent it far less now then when I first saw it.

Anyway, this afternoon I was procrastinating, and I ended up trawling back through the past few years, casting my eye over my status updates of yore and revisiting a few old wall posts etc. I had a good laugh as many happy memories resurfaced, particularly of university days. My favourites were messages between my friends and I when we were on the verge of insanity due to massive workloads and impending deadlines, as well as bizarre references to Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, and other Classical figures who we blamed personally for our work related madness!

Looking back has given me a little snapshot into how much I've changed, not only since I first joined Facebook in 2006, but also since I left the council. For example, a number of my past statuses show just how desperately unhappy I was in my old job, and with my daily commute to London for my job before that. They also demonstrated just how unwell I had been. I have an archive's worth of status updates about feeling ill. I usually get at least one bad cold annually but according to my status updates, when I was in my old jobs I was unwell over and over again. My sickness record for work is fairly average, so each time I claimed to be 'ill' on Facebook I wasn't necessarily missing work and hiding under the duvet. I think there was a direct correlation between my unhappiness and how I was feeling physically, whether or not I was actually 'sick'.

So, even though I knew I had been struggling for a long time in my old job, the sheer volume of negative status updates relating to it did shock me a little. But on further reflection, I really was that miserable. It's just that now I have been moving past it, and a lot of the nasty feelings I associate with the old place are beginning to fade.

Thankfully I'm not too much like Eeyore, and all of the miserable or angry updates are counterbalanced by many happy or excited updates and other jolly material. And so this random record of my feelings at over the past few years has made me very reflective this afternoon.

I remember all too well how much I struggled with difficult housemates and a heavy workload during my MA. I remember how tired the London commute made me. I remember how bored I was in my previous two jobs. I remember how some mornings I did not believe it would be possible to leave the house and go to the office because I was so unhappy. I remember how many problems we had with our old flat.

I remember how stressed I was planning our wedding, but also how much fun it was. I remember the stress of my degrees, but also how fascinating I found the research and how I never really wanted my studies to end.

I remember how amazing my trips abroad have been. I remember how fantastic Muse were the three times I went to see them perform live. I remember all the silly jokes my friends and I shared that only we understood. I remember how beautiful all the weddings were that I have been to. I remember how much I missed my brothers when they were away at university and how I loved being home for the holidays.

Good or bad, I don't need Facebook to help me remember any of these things. But, like finding the diaries I wrote when I was younger, I think a little reread, a deliberate revisit to the thoughts and feelings of the time, does good for the soul. And today it has conjured up a whole wealth of different emotions in my heart.

I look back on those bad times, remembering every ounce of misery, and know that I have moved on and that I have emerged a stronger person.

I look back on those good times, remembering every ounce of joy, and smile with fondness and am thankful that I had those experiences.

My Facebook statuses and old wall posts remind me of the conversations I have with old friends when we are feeling nostalgic. We reminisce, we, laugh, we congratulate or encourage each other on coming through the other side of whatever life has thrown at us. We bring back lots of memories, the good, the bad, and the hilarious. Although looking through the old Facebook stuff isn't the same as chatting with a friend, this afternoon has had a similar effect.

I sit here, in my desk chair, the sun beginning to set, and I feel content. All too often I dwell on the past and think about how I wish things had been different a lot of the time. But this half-hour of procrastination on Facebook has once again reminded me that I've had some pretty fantastic times in the past six years, and that although I've been through a lot emotionally I am a stronger person because of it. I needed that reminder today, and so I am grateful that Timeline gave me that little look back.

A Science Date!

On Thursday my husband and I went on a science date. No, it wasn't a tour of his lab (done that), or a trip to the Science Museum (done that too), or even to view the stars at the Herstmonceux Observatory (on the 'to do' list). Nope, we went out for dinner. But it was dinner with a difference.

Menu for the evening

February is the month of the Brighton Science Festival. A range of science themed events are held in the city and surrounding area throughout the month, and especially in half-term to inspire kids to be more interested in the subject. My husband had already been to an exciting talk on neutrinos which I had bailed on, not being much of a physicist and all, so the thing we decided to do together was go for a date at the restaurant, Due South, for on an evening named 'Weird Science', where we were promised an "evening of edible theatrical delights" - "deconstructing  flavours, taste and textures using the latest in cooking technology and technique" (Brighton Science Festival 2012).

We both smartened ourselves up and headed down on the train, enjoying the unusually mild temperatures as we walked down to the seafront. Being the nerds that we are we were the first to arrive for the evening. We were greeted by the head chef preparing apple and basil mojitos in liquid nitrogen. We were passed our little frozen blobs in a paper cup and momentarily stood there entranced, unsure how we were supposed to eat them. The chef advised us just to "pop them in our mouths in one go", which we did, and my, what an explosion of flavours! I got a temporary cold burn on my tongue, but it was worth it because it was delicious.

We were then led upstairs to our table by the window, where we had a perfect view of the sea, the crests of the waves only just visible against the nighttime blackness. We ordered champagne as it was the first time we had been on a proper date in ages, and who doesn't want to celebrate science anyway? We supped and chatted happily, watching the late evening runners, cyclists, and skateboarders zoom past on the promenade below, as the rest of the restaurant filled with other eager science foodies.

The next course was beetroot jellied, pickled, and coffee-roasted served with capers and creme fraiche. I don't like beetroot but I decided that this was the evening for trying new things, so I tucked in until I couldn't eat any more and had to discreetly shovel the rest onto my husband's plate, who thankfully found it delicious!

Beetroot prepared in three different ways

The next course more than made up for it, however: mackerel and shiitake mushroom ravioli served with horseradish snow and anise foam. The mackerel was the best I have ever tried, really fantastic. It was so tasty it was like I hadn't tried real seafood until that evening!

Next up was pheasant served with squash, blue cheese, pear, and sage, as well as a generous side dish of crunchy greens and rosemary potatoes. All of it was scrumptious.

The mouthwatering pheasant dish

Then the puddings began. The first of these was an apple sorbet served with a frozen pastry stick, powdered butterscotch, and cinnamon jelly. It was experiencing an apple pie in a whole new way, and very yummy indeed.

And as a chocoholic the final course was probably the best (followed very closely by the mackerel in my opinion). It was a chocolate brownie served with an incredibly light hazelnut sponge. It was gorgeous. This also came with chocolate cream that had been frozen in liquid nitrogen, like the mojito, and a hazelnut biscuit that had been made using the Maillard reaction (non-enzymatic browning).

This was so good I'd already begun to demolish it before I remembered to take a photo!

We finished up with a good old hot beverage before making our way home. Our bill was accompanied by fizzy lemon jellies, another tasty explosion of flavours in the mouth!

It was a lovely evening. As food lovers it was fantastic, and eating a meal where the science of the cooking and preparation methods, however gimmicky, were explained to us made it all the more enjoyable. It was a fun little adventure, and we'll definitely be keeping Due South in mind for future dates!

Photos my own.

Fighting the Fear

I suffer with anxiety. I imagine the worst possible scenarios for everything and then fret about them until the event is passed and nothing terrible has happened. In many ways it appears to have become a subconscious way of 'controlling' the situation, even if it does nothing of the sort. My twisted logic is that if I'm not worried then something is wrong, and something bad will happen. But if I worry, it will probably be fine. On a conscious level I still fear the worst. It's no real comfort to know that beneath the layers of worry I am actually attempting to control things.

It's because of this lack of control that I procrastinate. In a sense, if you want to control your life then wouldn't you just get on and do it? The problem is not the action itself, it's the outcome. Even if I work really hard I cannot guarantee that I will get published, I have no control over that as an end point. And so I freeze, I stop writing, and I quietly panic.

A couple of years ago I decided to see a Christian counsellor about my anxiety and procrastination woes. I had a session every other week or so for about a year, and although it helped to some extent, the really interesting thing that my counsellor identified about me is that the reason I procrastinate is because I am a perfectionist, and if the outcome is anything less than perfect, rather than making it as good as it can be I don't do it. Or at least I put off doing it. And by leaving it that long I know I have an excuse for the final product not being 'perfect.' It's because I didn't give myself enough time.

So what that and my anxiety boils down to is: fear. I am scared of failing, and I am scared because I can only control things to a certain extent.

I had a weird dream last night. I dreamt I was on a mission trip. I don't know what country I was in only that there was a lot of disease and lots of dangerous animals, mainly bugs. One of these bugs in my dream could burrow under your skin and paralyse you within four hours. In my dream I was petrified of this creature. The trip's leader, Dr Ray Langston from CSI  (I can only guess it's because I watched a couple of episodes before bed!), was very reassuring about the whole thing, and explained that the bug was quite rare and so finding one in the town we were staying in was unlikely. However, the panic I felt about dying from something, if not from that bug then something else, was extremely vivid. I woke up just after I began to cry out that I hadn't told my husband how much I loved him before I left, and that I might die before he could know.

As I lay in bed before getting up this morning I realised that this dream directly reflects my fear about my work and about a couple of other things happening in my life. I have been dithering and dawdling with my writing. I've been scaring myself about the end product by researching the cut-throat world of publishing even though I am a long way from sending anything off. I have put myself back in the position of believing that what I write simply isn't good enough, and even if it could be, I can't guarantee that I will get published.

But that's not why I am writing. I am doing this for God. What has happened is that I've fallen back into the old trap of relying on my own strength.

At house group this week we prayed for each other, as we always do, and this time I was bold enough to ask for prayer about the fact that I was relying on my own strength rather than God's for my writing, my job, my marriage, and my family. The first step for me is admitting that I have a problem because I fear the unknown. Instead of relying on God and trusting Him, I am scaring myself about having no money, about losing control, and about failing, ultimately about being anything less than perfect.

I believe that God is freeing from this fear once more, but He is also teaching me how I need to learn (again) that I have to trust Him.

What my dream furthermore reminded me of this morning, after I prayed, was when I went to Brazil in 2006. I remember that I definitely wanted to go. I had no qualms at all in saying "yes" as soon as our student worker at my uni church asked if I wanted to go. I knew God wanted me to go. Yet, I remember fighting to quell my fear of poisonous spiders. Although we weren't going to the Amazon Rainforest part of our time there was to be spent on a farm surrounded by jungle. At the first prayer meeting prior to the trip I remember being overcome by a strong sense of peace. God was reassuring me that He wanted me to go on this trip and that He did not want me to worry about spiders or anything else. This was significant because it stopped me worrying as I set about fundraising and making plans for the trip with the rest of the team.

By the time we were in Brazil it was clear that God has His hand on us for the whole trip, and He did so many amazing things while we were out there.*  On the first full day I encountered a small spider in the shower but I washed anyway, just keeping an eye on it. This was amazing for me - I shared a shower with a potentially deadly spider! Then, when we were staying on the farm, one of my friends found two poisonous spiders on her bed one night. However, because she grew up in Zimbabwe and South Africa she wasn't phased in the slightest and just got rid of them. I'm pretty certain that if I'd found them on my bed I would have freaked out big time, but she would have come to my rescue if need be. I knew then that we were protected by God from our own individual fears. We were on this mission for His glory, and He wasn't going to let our worries, however large to us they seemed, get in the way of that.

It was on the coach journey back to the airport, watching the lush foliage flash before my eyes that I realised I had done it. I had faced my fear of poisonous spiders to go to a country that I had never dreamed I would ever visit. But I hadn't faced it alone. I had gone there in God's strength, and he had surrounded me with fantastic people to share the experience with.

The farm we stayed on - you can't see it very well but there was forest all around full of parrots and monkeys. One night a three of us went for a walk and saw hundreds of fireflies glowing green, orange, and yellow. It was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen, and also something I would never have done if I'd thought about spiders...

It is with Brazil in mind that I know that this is what He is doing for me now. I write in His strength, not mine. He has surrounded me with people who support me, who cheer loudly for me, and who still love me regardless. I have countless other examples of when He has given me peace, squashing my fears so that I may fulfil my purpose through Him.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

 2 Corinthians 12:9

I will always worry. I think I will never be completely rid of my anxieties, my perfectionism, and my propensity to procrastinate. And although I am not proud of those flaws in me, I know that God is working through me, strengthening me, and building me up. Above all, He has asked me to write for Him, and just like in Brazil, He will not abandon me nor let me flounder in my fears.

*I could talk and write about Brazil for ever and ever - I've only just managed to exercise restraint in this post - there's so much more to tell than my fear of spiders!


Photo my own.

Winter Weariness

Christmas was cool. VnV Nation in London were awesome. Celebrating my brother-in-law's engagement to his lovely girlfriend was wonderful. The gospel concert at church was fantastic as always. The country walks have been brilliant fun. Snow, when it finally came this weekend, has been a joy. And eating ice cream by the sea in the face of bitterly cold winds was an experience!

Snow comes to Sussex

This winter has not been devoid of wonderful happenings. But I am tired of being chilled to the bone. I am tired of the lack of sunshine. I am tired of losing buttons from my coat. I am weary of winter and longing for spring. I'm counting down the days.

Photo my own.