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 8th 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 16th 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!