Sunday lunch at Pevensey

I referenced briefly in the introduction to my previous post, about escaping down to the coast in order to get away from my over-running DIY task, and also just to enjoy a short break and charge our batteries after a busy week at work for us both.

Before packing up the previous evening, I’d roped a tarpaulin in place, over the apex of the shed roof. I was glad I did so, as there was some quite heavy rain just after dawn on Sunday morning. So, safe in the knowledge that my hard work would not be spoiled by the weather, and after a well-deserved lie-in, we jumped in the car and headed down to Pevensey.

The latter is a large village situated five miles north-east of Eastbourne, and one mile inland from the coast at Pevensey Bay. I’ve always muddled up Pevensey and Pevensey Bay, but for the record the latter is a relatively modern settlement which is built virtually on the shoreline, whilst Pevensey itself has origins dating back to the 8^th Century.

Pevensey is dominated by its surprisingly large castle, parts of which survive from Roman times, when it was one of the “Saxon Shore Forts,” built to protect Britain from, you guessed it, the Saxons and other Germanic raiders. Although the old shore fort at Pevensey was later strengthened by the Anglo-Saxons, it wasn’t sufficiently fortified to prevent the landing nearby of forces belonging to Duke William of Normandy, in 1066. And we know what happened soon after that!

I’m pretty certain that I hadn’t visited Pevensey since childhood, when exploring castles, and other ancient ruins, was a favourite pastime of the Bailey family. My father in particular enjoyed this activity, and took my sister and I to castles up and down the country. I have a vague memory of visiting the one at Pevensey.

Pevensey Bay, on the other hand, is where, in more recent times, son Matthew and I spent many largely fruitless hours, attempting to catch fish from the shore. It was good father and son bonding though, and the settlement’s excellent fish and chip shop compensated for the lack of live fish nibbling away at the bait on our submerged hooks.

As mentioned, in the previous article, the purpose of our visit to Pevensey was to call in on Mrs PBT’s brother, and his partner, who were spending a few days in their campervan at the nearby Fairfields Farm campsite. Unfortunately, the glorious early autumn sun and accompanying warm temperatures, of the past few weeks,  had vanished to be replaced by grey skies and even some rain.

The change in weather did however, prevent us from being unable to sit outside when we reached our destination as, whilst the rain had eased off, a strong south-westerly wind was blowing.  Fairfields Farm is a medium sized and well-laid out campsite, although I have to grumble about it being the only site I’ve ever been to where visitors are charged to enter and park their cars.  The buggers charged us £4 per vehicle as well!

Eileen’s brother’s campervan is a medium sized Fiat model, which can accommodate three people. It is a replacement for his much larger Hymer vehicle, which was written off in a crash, caused by an inconsiderate driver, a couple of years ago.

We had the usual cup of tea plus a chat on arrival, before heading into Pevensey for Sunday lunch. I would like to have walked, and explored the village on foot, but both Mrs PBT’s and her brother were incapacitated in one way or another, so I had to drive us there instead. This unfortunately means there are no photos of Pevensey and its castle.

On the way, we passed Pevensey and Westham railway station, which provides a link from the campsite into either Eastbourne or Hastings. Our destination was not the 16^th Century Smugglers Inn Eileen and I thought we were heading for, but the rather more modern Heron, in Westham High Street, where a table had been booked for 2.15pm.

The Heron is an imposing, but pleasant, late Victorian pub, which still retains a two-bar layout. The interior is finished in that contemporary, washed-out, pastel look, and is quite sparsely furnished. It wasn’t overly busy, but there was a family who were just finishing their lunch when we arrived.

A very acceptable pint of Harvey’s Best (3.0 NBSS), was served up by the friendly barmaid,  along with an equally good, roast dinner (turkey or beef). I joined the others for a dessert afterwards.

As I said, I would have liked an amble around the village, but we did take a short walk when we got back to the campsite. Consequently there are quite a few animal photos, to make up for the lack of village ones.
 

On the plus side, a pub which I probably wouldn’t have given a second glance from the outside,  turned up trumps by providing us with a well-cooked and substantial Sunday lunch, along with a very drinkable pint of Harvey’s; both enjoyed in pleasant surroundings. If proof was needed never to judge a place until you have stepped inside, then this was it.

We left just after 5pm, as Mrs PBT’s was starting to feel a little claustrophobic cramped up in the campervan. All thoughts of us owning such a vehicle evaporated with those feelings, but I think we would both go stir-crazy if we were cooped up in one for too long.

I took the scenic route home, heading up from the Pevensey levels towards Battle, via the villages of Ninfield and Catsfield. We both thought Pevensey was worthy of a return visit, for a proper look round; but next time, on our own!