Boating on the village green

You won't have been following the saga of Newhaven's West Beach, the only sandy beach along the coast for miles either way. The whole of the port of Newhaven, including the beach, used many moons ago to be owned by British Rail, who operated the Sealink ferries. The ferry operation alog with the port however was sold off to, first to Sea Containers, and is now owned by Newhaven Port and Properties which despite its name is a French owned company.

A couple of years ago a bit of concrete fell off the sea wall which encloses this lovely little beach. Obviously, NPP didn't want to fork out for the large scale repairs that the concrete wall clearly needs. But on the other hand, neither did they want to get sued if the next lump of it fell on a sunbather's head. So from their perspective the answer was obvious: close the beach and bar all access.

And thus for the last two summers the tide has gone in and out and washed away no sandcastles or writing in the sand; filled in no holes, nor even carried away any litter. You can stand above the beach and marvel at the pristine smooth sand that no one but the gulls can touch. But that might be about to change. Some enterprising soul had the idea of applying to have the West Beach designated as a village green. If this were successful - which would entail demonstrating that local people had used it for recreation for over twenty years - then access to it could not be barred, and, by implication, NPP would have to maintain it.

So a campaign was mounted, calling on people to dig out old photos to show how they'd used the beach over the preceding decades. The evidence was presented to a planning inspector, who makes a recommendation to the County Council, who have the power to make the designation. And it was reported today that the inspector has recommended that the West Beach should be accorded village green status, which is great news. It may not be a final victory however; not only do the County Council still have to give their approval, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if NPP were very slow to act. Fingers crossed however that next summer we'll be building sandcastles again.

Anyway, this gives me the chance to post one of the photos of my finest hour in the sand, back in July 2007 (and incidentally show how lovely the beach is).If you want to see the whole process from start to ignominious end, then look here.

Back on the bank

For now. Chertsey's first epic journey at an end, and me back in my house two hundred-odd miles away. Notable events which have occurred in my absence: Baz has saved up enough money selling ice creams on Brighton seafront to finally buy his i-mac, and the Newhaven Conservative Club, on the corner of our road, has burnt down. This latter is particularly notable for us not having noticed it on the way home.

I'll sort out the photos and post some more wonderful memories over the next few days - though most of the best pictures of Chertsey have been taken by others, and many thanks to all of you. In particular, thanks to David Goode, who took the photo that I've used for July's masthead, and took the trouble to print a copy and bring it to me at Braunston.

That bedspread at last

So sorry for keeping you in suspense, but suddenly there were so many more interesting things to write about. Anyway, here at last is the new bedspread, purchased a couple of weeks ago in the newest Newhaven charity shop. This one isn't part of a national chain but is a long-established local charity supporting disabled adults. Local charity shops like this I find are in general not so good for clothes, but better for bric-a-brac; a bit more like a good old fashioned jumble sale.

Anyway, I couldn't resist this multi-coloured crochet treasure trove. And it - and similar crocheted blankets - do have a use. The cross bed has a solid base and a foam mattress, which can attract a lot of condensation. Putting a blanket like this under the mattress seems to help reduce this, by spacing it out and providing some airflow.

Cold charity

I do like a nice charity shop, and have had some lovely finds over the years (and sent a lot of stuff in their direction too), so when Dean and Roger came to tea yesterday, and I met them off the train, and they asked if there were any charity shops in Newhaven, I eagerly told them that there were three, and that I would gladly show them these highspots of the town. So off we went first to the PDSA shop, which is a bit dear by Newhaven standards, and smells rather peculiarly of some very strong air freshener, where they were delighted with some CDs and various other treasures, and I had to borrow a fiver off Dean to buy a new patchwork hippy dress, just like my old one, only predominantly blue rather than pink and less tatty (I said it was dear, didn't I).

Then we went to Sense, which is generally pretty good but has recently taken to stocking large pieces of furniture. Here I resisted a set of Woods Berol ware cups and saucers, and Dean and Roger resisted a Dartmouth fish vase but were delighted to find a video that they had been after for a while.

Then off to the final one, my favourite, Help the Aged, where only last week I was enjoying my regular chat with the manager amongst the well stocked shelves and racks, and... it was gone!

Not just closed, but empty and stripped out. Just like that, no notice, no warning. I can't believe that Sue the manager could have known last week or she surely would have said. That was quite a shock, and very disappointing too. So we had to make do with just two charity shops, and the appeal of Newhaven for charity shop tourists just declined a little more. Although we have been promised a new one, from Searchlight, a local charity, but who knows whether that will come to pass. It's a bad day indeed when even the charity shops pull out.

Still, a variety of cakes and some trifle soon restored our spirits.

Newhaven narrowboat

I've mentioned before seeing a narrowboat moored, somewhat inexplicably, on the Sussex Ouse at Lewes. I don't know if I ever mentioned the one at Newhaven, glimpsed occasionally, in the distance, from the road.

This morning, in a final attempt to get my brain cells to talk to each other so that they could finish an article I've been staring at for weeks, I took myself off for a long walk up the river from Robinson Road to Piddinghoe. And as I walked along by the creek between Robinson Road and Denton Island at low tide, there it was, sitting most incongruously in the estuarial mud. I'd love to know what story it has to tell of how it found its way here.