Beachy Head

Yesterday we went to Beachy Head. Beachy Head is a sheer cliff face that drops into the ocean.  We were standing on the coastline of England. As a person you are buffeted around like a ragdoll in the wide. It was cruelly cold but beautiful none the less. Also because of the wind everyone has terrific ne hair-dos!

When Driving around one is mesmerize by the surrounding countryside. Fences of trees part to rolling hills covered in parched green and gold.  Cows and sheep dot the land as they spend time in the blonde sunshine. But the sun is deceiving; because of the wind that runs rampant in unseen places. Grey and white clouds scuttle across the sky, herded by the wind. Towns do not cut harshly through the landscape, rather coexist and are friendly with each other.  

Once getting to Beachy Head, the sheer majesty is massive. Running across top of the cliffs are footpaths, some are treacherously paved while others cut through fields of grass and yet others are packed down with pebbles in the dirt. There really are no words to describe the cliffs of white. A small lighthouse sits at the base of one cliff, protecting boats but guarding the cliffs. The ocean appears white but then changes with the waves to a foamy pale green.

Stopping in the town of Alfriston on the way back to Brighton: one notices the wind again. Though here in this countryside village, the wind is warm, kissed by the sun. The little village beckons you in with little shops and alley ways that call for adventure. Nested behind the building s is a beautiful church, whose lawn is filled with school children on a trip. Once back on the bricked sidewalks, the cottage name their presence and sit quietly while cars bustle and whiz past. The streets are friends to all: horseback rider, wheelchair riders and foot travelers. Leaving the village behind, the hills once again share their sprawling magic. An Ancient man engraved into the chalky hillside looks across the valleys of green and gold.

Once Back in Brighton, I explore with the girls the marina. It is small compared to Chicago standards, but is England’s second largest. The gulls fly high and rest on the still strong wind.  The drive here made me want to live here so bad. I could easily see myself living in one of their colored row houses. Maybe a pink one with a bright blue door… Dinner I switched groups and joined a different group for dinner where we all had fish and chips and I finished with treacle pudding.

Now as I attempt to quickly write this, we are getting ready to leave to for Stonehenge and Bath….