A Different World!

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Travelling in time needs no machine... no Tardis... not for me, anyway. All it takes is a little imagination, a little knowledge about the ancients and a high, quiet spot on the South Downs. I suppose my love of the South Downs stems from my childhood, when my Mum and Dad used to take us up Wolstonbury Hill every Sunday from Spring, through Autumn. My Dad didn't drive, so between them, Mum and Dad would pack a picnic and we'd go with another family of friends to catch the bus down to Clayton. It was an outing we always looked forward to... we'd alight the bus opposite the Jack and Jill pub, which was named after the two windmills which stand on Clayton Hill to this day. Then, we'd walk down the country lane at the side of the pub, watching a train or two emerge from or enter the Clayton Tunnel. Then, when we reached the track which led up the side of the hill, we'd trundle up, through the woods and up the footpath which mounts the hill. We'd arrive at about noon, and proceed to lay out the picnic on a tablecloth with was placed upon the grass, surrounded by blankets which we sat upon, and then hungrily devour all the wonderful goodies our mums and dads had packed for us. There was no "ours and theirs"... we shared both picnics between the two families. Fed and watered, we'd then wander off and do our own things... sometimes in pairs or groups and sometimes alone. We'd do things like walk in the wooded areas finding nature's cast-off leaves, pine cones, etc, etc, or maybe just sit and draw a scenic view. Sometimes, we'd even make rough bows and arrows from tree branches, but we had the most fun with a roly-poly race down the hill, followed by a race back up to where our parents were. Then, we'd climb to the highest point and survey the expanse of the Sussex Weald below, picking out the landmarks, watching the horses and riders trot by, and identifying places which nestled in the Weald. When the day began to draw to a close, we would walk back down Wolstonbury Hill, through the woods and back along the lane to the pub, outside which we would catch our bus back home. We would be treated to lemonade or juice and a packet of crisps... always plain in those days, with a blue pack of salt to sprinkle over them. lol. Then, we'd get back onto the bus for our short journey home. Once there, Dad would proceed to cook us a decent supper, whilst we had our bath, and after supper, we would climb contentedly into bed, heads full of the day which had just ended. I loved those days... perhaps that's why I still find pleasure in the Sussex Downs. I love to spend time up there, looking across the Sussex Weald. On a clear day, you can see the trains emerging from Clayton Tunnel, the traffic on the A23 and the planes taking off from Gatwick Airport. Occasionally, you can hear the sound of leather on willow and a cricketer's echoed cry of appeal. Moreover, I now know so much more about the history of the Weald, which was once all forest. To the Saxons of 900AD, it was a part of Andredesweald... a great forest which stretched from the marshes of Kent to the New Forest in Hampshire - 120 miles long and 30 miles wide, nestling between the South and the North Downs. Deer used to be hunted in the forest, and Saxon pig farmers would drive their herds across the ridges. I can stand here and imagine the Saxons driving their wooden, rustic carts along the valley, and their pigs across the ridges, and hunting deer. I can hear their voices on the wind which blows through my hair, and I'm in a different World. Turn 180 degrees and you can see Brighton, Lancing College and right across the English Channel. Are those Viking longboats out there, or is my mind drifting again? The South Downs is a historical, magical place to be. I just love to dream up there. What do you do when you want to escape the rat race world we live in? Where do you find you can live your dreams?