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Tuesday 7 December 2021
Since mid 2016 I’ve tried to join the life drawing classes run by Silvia McCrae-Brown at Charleston.
I’ve kept all my efforts and have a photographic record of most. I’ve just taken a look over these by way of comparison – I’m glad to see a significant transition from the awkwardness and impossibility of these early drawings.
Silvia Macrae Brown runs the life drawing class at Charleston on the first Tuesday of each month. I go along when I can, Covid permitting. I’ve taken the day off from work in the past to go along. It is just one day.
It matters to have someone with a plan, especially if it is designed to stretch us. This isn’t one of those classes where anatomical exactness created over a single pose over many hours is wanted, rather we have multiple poses, movement, drawing with our non-dominant hand, or with our eyes closed.
Today was different. There is an exhibition of Duncan Grant’s work ‘Duncan Grant: 1920‘ showing at the moment.
So the plan was to work the way artists at Charleston worked 100 years ago – a life model was a rare treat so what doodles and sketches they made were reimagined into later works, painted onto tiles, cupboards and wall panels.
Now it was my turn. I’ve always embraced instructions whether from a coach or teacher – however awkward I may feel the challenge of the new can create insight. Today was such a day.
An idea that had been fermenting in the first idea for something to contemplate in the afternoon was brought forward. The model would hold a pose and rotate 45% every minute – that of put her on a rotating plinth. I prefer the short pose. I find 30 seconds is enough. The race is to ‘grab’ the essence of the pose for future reference. Silvia is a sculptor who often references her own approach to seeking to find the essence of a pose.
I use a Lamy fountain pen and black ink. I used to swear by an artist’s felt-tip but have come to prefer ink on paper for its smudge-ability and inconsistency; I enjoy the fight. Just as I enjoy keeping one step ahead of the blunt pencil by having at least 20 sharpened (with a Stanley Knife, never a pencil sharpener). I only use soft pencils for drawing long poses when I’m in the mood for that kind of exacting task. I prefer to be quick and intuitive rather than slow and studied.
I keep all drawings.
This is a dictate handed down by my later mother who did her MA in Fine Art at Durham University in the 1950s. Quentin Bell was one of her tutors – he was a lecturer there at the time.
I will just show a few here to illustrate the progress. I know that plenty of my efforts fail, so will just do another, and another, and another until it starts to look and feel right. This is what is meant about getting your hand in … like a gymnast or dancer practising moves before a session.
After another go like this and taking note of the instruction to be capturing the essence of the pose I went for something smaller.
From these the idea was to take a pose and work it up as a single art piece, as bathroom tiles, wall paper or some such as the Charleston artists did (not the reproduction tea towels and place mats you might buy in the shop).
From here, whether or not the model was posing (which felt impolite and potentially a waste of a rare resource) we were invited to take a pose and work it up as a pattern, shape or draft for an artwork. I had a few goes with a single, double and various other repetitions and combinations.
And a single pose with colour – something I’ve rarely ventured into using!
This was a breakthrough moment for me. I’ve only ever thought of a life class to be a period of work that delivers its only outputs at that moment, on the day. That any reworking of something would be a lesser thing – akin to copying from a photograph. How wrong I am. Of course artists are forever gathering up ideas on pads of paper or working with models and items in the studio to work up into a distinct and separate work.
For lack of ink and seeing a set of blue sheets of paper to use up I went for white charcoal and produced a series of five multiple sketches on single sheets, followed by a few single images.
I was beginning to feel confident with what I was able to express with a few simple lines. The skill is to let the hand/arm draw what the eyes are seeing and the brain is feeling. Experience, practice and growing knowledge of where the bones and muscles are helps.
We were then invited to return to a favourite pose and work on this. The model kindly took a number of poses as requested including the ‘crossed arms above the head’ which I favoured.
We ended the session with a seated pose. Enjoying using the white charcoal pencil I had only grey or green darker papers to choose from.
A single pose for 35 minutes I did four sketches in each trying to do little more than get the entire figure on the page without making it too small. I then added the colour based on the model sitting under a bright orange/red heater in the barn where we are working.
Parking is limited to three or four cars on a stretch of badly broken curb or in a near-by lay-by but at this year especially it is worth the effort. There are no visitor plans or ‘site interpretation’ at the entrances which I rather feel is a mistake – education mattes, and helps. Not everyone will care to download maps or information in advance or once they have arrived picnic in hand, dog on a lead, children in tow.
I’m no fan of the noise of traffic coming at you from two sides of this 20 acre triangular ‘ancient woodland’ plot that makes up Lake Wood. I keep thinking I ought to get earphones and listen to music; this is the sad reality of a number of these Woodland Trust woods here in Sussex where most seem to be on the edge of a main road or on the edge of urban development.
The site was given to the Woodland Trust by the Streatfield family to whom there is a dedication. From the Management Plan I learn that ‘landscaping occured in the late 18th and early 19th centuries.
A pond was enlarged, features carved in the sandstone outcrops and exotic specimen trees planet as a part of the ‘Gardens and Pleasure Grounds of Rocks House’. This would make the oldest trees, both conifers and broadleaves, some 140 years or so old. Armed with a tape measure this is what I found with a ‘veteran’ sweet chestnut, beech and giant redwood, in turn with girths of approximately 300cm to 500cm. It is likely that theee were all planted around the same time in the 1880s.
To protect woodland and put it into caring hands who will manage it for generations to come I can think of no better policy; it is that or risk seeing it being developed – in this case with a series of executive homes each with its own access to the lake, or a mass of Bellways Boxes, the lake drained or fenced in, or the wood simply abandoned to motorbikes and picnic litter.
The lake is the creation of Capability Brown and the rides around the lake, including a tunnel through the rocks, were designed for carriages. Excotic trees were planted, many of which survived. Steps, tunnels and a boathouse were cut into the rocks at the time too.
The 1987 storm took down some 100 oak trees and led to the quick spread of rhododendron and the associated effects it has on taking all light from the ground. An early task of the Woodland Trust, working with volunteers, was to remove the rhododendron.
Reading the Lake Wood Management Plan indicates the thought given by the Woodland Trust to getting the wood into a state where it can largely grow into its natural self, encouraging the variety of structures, ages and types of tree and undergrowth currently present with invasive species removed while retaining the ancient specimen trees. My sense of all this is at times more of a living museum, or a safari park for trees, than a truly natural wood – nature would quickly cover and block the so-called rides and paths kept clear by footfall alone could not exist without the steps and bridges so thoughtfully added. Here the need to accommodate, if not encourage visitors, is clear.
Nature in its truest form is more apparent where there are dead or fallen trees – though the mass flattening of hundreds of trees in the October 1987 hurricane is not apparent. I rather believe that with rhododendron invasion the site would otherwise be a mass of 40 year old densely tangled waxy leaved evergreen rhododendrons. Despite their threat as an invasive plant the cherry laurel planted along the dam as a hedgerow remains – it is about as appealing as a neighbour eager to shut out prying eyes from a private garden and looks out of place, or is just another boundary like a wall, road, by-pass or fence.
The rock outcrops are favoured as a feature and so are to be kept free to some degree of birch and holly which would otherwise hide their form.
There is next to no litter – unlike the bag of cans, bottles, crisp and sandwich wrappers I collected in September. I took away one plastic bag that had been used to pick up dog faeces and left in a hedge. I was wearing gloves: I already had a small bag from my own dog so didn’t feel unduly put out. However, there are no bins on site or near the entrances which is a pity – some people clearly leave litter at one entrance as if expecting a bin rather than taking it home with them.
I’ll be back mid-winter. I’m sure it will look different again once all the leaves have gone, with frost or a snowfall.
I have to admit to ticking off a walk out of Lewes I have never done before, although I have approached parts of it from the north and south. My desire is to see autumn trees but with the sun so low we decided to keep out of The Combe.
As each of these maps from OpenStreetMap, Google Maps and Ordnance Survey show the same thing: a strip of trees in the shady lee of the coombe. Instead we parked on the street off Malling Hill and took a path onto Malling Hill to Cliffe Hill, walked around the side of Lewes Golf Course then battled a chill northerly wind to the old chalk pit and the walk back.
I can’t say I took much pleasure in it.
In a ridiculous over statement Sussex Wildlife call the Malling Nature Reserve ‘a superb chalk grassland and scrub’. The same author calls Lewes ‘quaint’. The clichés depress me.
I would call Malling Nature mediocre; it gives the impression of a patch of exposed Downland that is overgrazed, over managed and over trod. It is an urban park, a dog and human playground squeezed in against the edge of a popular town with busy roads in ear shot and a golf course along its southern boundary.
There are multiple gates to negotiate each with a set of signs with conflicting messages regarding ownership, what you should or should do with your dog and the presence of sheep in the field (or not) – though there were no sheep present anywhere when we visited. The signs warning of sheep are secured by clips to the wooden gates and are clearly left in place regardless of whether there are sheep present or not. Someone has not been told the story of the boy who cried ‘Wolf!’. Ignoring the signs is inevitable.
Here at least the importance of picking up dog shit is explained; on the Landport in the distance across to the west of the town and visible from Malling Hill the attitude I have had expressed to me in person on the ground and online in meetings of the Friends of Landport Bottom that on ‘open countryside’ dogs can do what they please, were they please.
Although I am still new to identifying trees, though I am ably assisted by the ‘Picture This’ App, I am now taking the next step to approximate their age. A quick google gives a variety of approaches, some more technical than others, and those from the US forever having you choose between imperial feet and inches or the far more sensible metric systems. Having started with inches I quickly flip the tape measure around and go with centimeters instead to remove one complexity in the calculation.
The science is self-evident – some trees grow faster than others, and the growing conditions will have an impact too. I am not after an exact age, so looking for a recently sawn down tree of the same type and girth, or sawing down the tree to get at its age or taking a core sample would be taking it too far. And unless in my own garden, against the law.
All I want to be able to do is to take a measurement, do a calculation based on what kind of tree it is and therefore say that this tree is around 50 years old, or 100 years old or 150 years old. That’s about the range, with some closer to the 30 years mark, anything younger a sapling of sorts and anything far older edging towards ‘ancient’. Rather like guessing a person’s age I think you develop an eye for it, certainly around your own parks and walks. Around Lewes there is a lot around the 60 year old, very few old trees and many younger. I’m thinking the oldest trees are likely to be in the cemetery, where ancient yews are often found. And in Southover Grange Gardens which was in private hands 100 years ago and has an old mulberry and equally old beech which I think are at least 300 years old?
I try out my method around Stanley Turner measuring a sweet chestnut here, a field maple there, a sycamore too. The willow that came down a few years ago are surely reaching the 250 years old mark and having been sawn off I could get an exact diameter.
While the field maple that came down a year ago is possibly around 60 years old.
There is a chance that there is someone alive who remembers them being planted – or even planted them. For this I need to approach the Rugby and Cricket Club.
I also head up to Jubilee Gardens and visit Bell Lane.
My calculations remain vague. I put this large beech in Jubilee Gardens off Juggs Lane at 120 to 130 years old. With all of these are await correct.
I’m yet to calculate the age of the trees in Bell Lane Recreation Ground or the older trees in the Railways Land Wildlife Trust Land.
I will use the expression ‘fall’ as suits my own needs an experience; for me it is that day, or those days where leaves are self-evidently falling from the canopy – today is one of those days. ‘Fall’ here in Sussex on England’s South Coast is therefore is building to a crescendo and having lasted a week to 10 days will be over. Autumn on the other hand came as temperatures belatedly dropped below 10 degrees C. I struggle to believe we even have a winter anymore – for winter there needs to be frost and temperatures below freezing sustained during the day. Snow helps. I’m sure there have been a couple of years over the last decade where ‘winter’ in this sense never happened … autumn and ‘fall’ were late, winter tried but failed to transpire and days later we were into an early spring. Such is life under climate change.
This is my third visit to William’s Wood and the second time I’ve inadvertently timed my walk with the shoot that chases ducks off the lake or pheasants out of the heath to the west. My views are no longer mixed: we should not be raising animals to eat, let alone shoot them for sport. Yet I am a crack shot. Age 8 to 10 I remember going out to shoots in Northumberland and southern Scotland with my father who went shooting most weekends in the season. He taught my brother and I to shot. I use the same techniques when taking photographs.
Knowing where to park up and how to enter the wood makes it straightforward to find William’s Wood and then continue on through Bishop’s Wood and Harvey’s wood, sticking to the public access footpaths courtesy of All Trails and Ordnance Survey Maps.
Park on the lane leading up to Bellevue Nursing Home (formerly Stonewick), once the home of William Knapman in whose name the wood beyond was bequeathed to The Woodland Trust by his wife Jane Knapman both of whom are remembered on a bench in the meadow 50m or so into William’s Wood.
It is a 500m walk from the drive to the Nursing Home to access William’s Wood. There is then a distinct fork, I’ve taken both; to the right is a long trail into the gill, onto open farmland, through other woods and lakes beyond – a right of way with a distinct sense of being hemmed in by fences, hedgerows of laurel or conifers and signs warning of Private Land. Best to go left and onto the edge of William’s Wood.
Williams Wood can be walked in a circular route in 30 minutes to 45 minutes, depending on how long you dawdle to admire the trees, the underground and gills. Bishop’s Wood beyond adds another hour.
As a Woodland Trust wood there is a management plan for William’s Wood that explains how the wood came into their ownership, its size, nature, problems, short and long term ambitions. On the ground you know you are in a Woodland Trust wood because of the quality of signposting, solid and generous boardwalks and bridges.
My timing is perfect. Leaves have been falling in abundance in places all week but there are just enough here still for the canopy in places to be an extraordinarily varied range of light to dark yellow, through orange, red, russet and brown with some auburn, scarlet or crimson.
My knowledge of trees and their leaves, let alone their trunks and silhouette is still too poor to identify any tree other than the obvious ones: I know my oak, maple and willow, but not my ash, larch or sycamore. This will come with experience. I assiduously use the ‘Picture This’ App, though this requires a good signal. I now know my liverwort at least, though I struggle with the different fungi and would never pick and eat a mushroom from the woods without expert advice.
Beyond William’s Wood there are long paths by one of the meadows, through stands of old larch and beech (I think), as well as oak. You can then double back above a deep or flooded fill where tress surely 200 years old or more create huge arches across the canopy and at this time of year litter the path in leaves.
Day 15 of a dreadful cold and day two of feeling on recovering fast I feel I may be able to manage more than just a walk with the dog to clear my lungs.
A crisp sunny morning I’m up at dawn and onto the Railway Land only to find much of it fenced off because of the massive fireworks display and bonfire site preparations – we stick with a few loops around the old ornamental lake and woods and then head for Bell Lane. My eyes are always on trees and hedges, newly planted and ancient. Lewes Urban Arboretum has been active these last couple of years putting in saplings and lengths of hedgerow. I take a detour to Jubilee gardens.
It’s too nice a day to stay in – that and the lack of exercise over the last couple of weeks is enough of an excuse for me to head out again later in the morning. Lewes on 5th November becomes gradually frenetic after 12 noon as parking restrictions come into place and the last cars leave the streets.
For the best part of a week I have slept every afternoon – feeling good and preferring to not to make long naps a habit I venture out again later in the afternoon. I’m out at 4:00pm to get the last half hour of winter sunlight.
By 4:45pm all vehicles must be outside the demarcated centre of town and the roads are closed. For the next hour as we tip into darkness the streets are quiet, though visitors are already spilling into the pubs and out of the last train.
I’m on Winterbourne Hollow as the roads are closed. From Prison Crossroads, as we call it, I head into town on Western Road. The Southover Bonfire Society Float is parked up ready for action at the top of the Hollow. It features Matt Hancock with his hands on a somewhat nubile, youthful and naked Gina Coladangelo. This is such old news, nearly 6 months, there have been many more scandals since. The large papier mache floats take a while to design and construct though – the default would be Boris Johnson.
I visit the Blacksmith Arms to find it packed with drinkers who appear to have been here since lunchtime – it’s like match day. Then down the High Street ‘reclaiming the streets’ in my own way by walking up the middle of the road looking back and forth to enjoy traffic free streets – not just no vehicles driving through, but no cars parked up either.
This always reminds me of late Victorian/early Edwardian Street scenes – the kind of thing my late grandfather would have appeared in as a boy: a street devoid of traffic, just pedestrians, perhaps a handcart, maybe a tub trap and pony.
I’m at the top of Keere Street as a squad of police officers arrive, gather to take instructions and then spread out along the High Street in pairs where they have been told to ‘familiarise themselves with their area’ – as if much can be gleaned ahead of the crowds and revellers while standing in a boarded up shop door.
Through town The Rights of Man appears packed until I see that drinks are being served directly on the street through a window. The Lansdown is as busy as on Match Day when Brighton & Hove Albion supporters gather her for a pre-match bevvy or two.
I venture over to the War Memorial then turn tail down Station Street in time to witness the police and organisers pulling a barrier across the road to prevent any further pedestrian access to the last surge of people coming in on the train.
Lewes station closed as I approached – no trains will be stopping again today – I’m on the railways bridge to hear a station announcement about the station being closed and see a couple of police officers walking the platforms to remove any stragglers.
Pubs are charging £5 for a pint of Harvey’s Best, up from £4:30 / £4:40 in most pubs, the exception being The King’s Head which has puts its prices up from £4:80 to £6:00 for a pint – one to avoid, as I state early on via Lewes Present on Facebook. This later meets with a certain amount of vitriol for my calling them out – yet someone else points out that they are also charging £3:00 for a can of Coke. I also stop in at The Volunteer – busy, but a quite different atmosphere – more of a lads pub? A club or supporters pub? The atmosphere is that of a vibrant ‘working men’s club’.
My favourite watering hole on this side of town is The Swan – where the prices have remained the same (good for them). There is a jovial party atmosphere here all afternoon and evening, very much like a very large family wedding with some drinking early, polite quaffing for a period then a descent into propper party mode. For now I head home for an additional break. Usually by this time we would have pulled out several large Really Useful Boxes containing pirate uniformes, tricorn hats and weaponry – this is all mothballed to another year. Bell Lane, too often a rat run, certainly more so before the Covid-19 lockdown than now, is devoid of traffic. The way groups of people walk down the road just shows how ante-social our narrow footpaths are that have for the last 100o years put cars, lorries and buses first. This must change. We need to reclaim the streets 🙂
Being in civvies I am not committed to joining the official marches of Southover Bonfire Society, which I have done for 12 or more years. If you’re part of the crowd and gather and re-appear at a pub as part of the crowd it is hardly surprising to find them crowd; I was able to get around with ease. The High Street was also less rammed than usual I am sure – there are years where once you get onto the route of the marching bands then you are stuck for long periods – not tonight.
The evening’s entertainments to follow. Though I made no trip out to any bonfire site. I saw fireworks over rooftops and listened to the commotion from the street.
Moat Wood, Uckfield 3 November
My third of fourth trip to this Woodland Trust wood, so I ought to get it right. Parking by the Church is the best way in, with parking spaces and bins, then a path through the churchyard past War Memorial and alongside the Primary School into the woods.
As we approach remembrance Sunday I must research some of these names shown here; men who served and died during the First World War.
Moat Wood isn’t a long walk, but our dog Evie is on a time limit of 20-30 minutes given her age and arthritis.
I think I’ve got the timing about right for autumn colours, the path thick with fallen leaves and the canopy in many places becoming a yellow/orange glow. This can only be enjoyed with sunshine so I’ve crawled away from a cold to get some air and stretch my legs before it is too late. Moat Wood is small, surrounds a medieval moat and is demarcated as ‘ancient woodland’.
Over the last 20 years I’ve used the end of October and then 5th November as the guide for when I would expect all the leaves to have gone from the trees, but it appears to be getting ever so slightly later each year. It takes a storm blowing through or frost and we have had neither despite hints of frost right now and for a day or two.
I sincerely recommend going to the Woodland Trust website and searching for this wood and reading the Management Plan. It is reassuring to know that such an organisation exists and with 1000 woods around the UK many people, communities and local councils have put woods into the hands of the Woodland Trust. You can guarantee a steady hand, careful planning and a sensitive recovery plan for woods thick with invasive species or poorly planted in previous decades (typically with conifers), while dealing with the menace of things like ash dieback. I find their communications with the public are excellent.
And then there are benches, dedications, bridges, duckboard tracks, gates and notices aiming to help the public enjoy the woods rather than keeping them out.
From the Management Plant you learn some technical phraseology, this is ‘ancient semi-natural woodland’ with the majority equating to ‘National Vegetation Classification’. I’m trying to get my head around these expressions as I go from one Woodland Trust wood to another to see for myself what is meant on the ground.
‘Large parts of the wood were replanted with broadleaves after the storm of 1987.’ Which explains why so few fallen trees indicating this event can be found on the ground. There is a corner where the failure of planted ‘oak, ash, wild cherry and non-native Norway maple’ is self-evident and the natural regeneration of species such as hornbeam and birch quite virulent by comparison.
The pine, though thinned, still dominates its corner of the wood where little light gets to the ground.
There are days when I visit The Railways Land Wildlife Trust land in the morning and late afternoon without fail – and more often if they have an event on.
Longer walks are now being measured by how long we have been told our dog Evie should be out – 20 minutes, not an hour or more. So we do a short circuit taking a different route each time we return.
A morning walk on the Railway Land with heavy due glistening in the low sun. Capturing the delicacy and brightness of due on the rushes needs something better than the lens in my phone, but who carries around a DSLR anymore?
Lewes Present tells me I am looking at White Poplar here, something I confirm by putting some closer images through the App Picture This and then reading up some notes from The Woodland Trust.
From the Woodland Trust British Trees App
The thing I should look for is this bright, white shininess in the canopy. Knowing that the underside of the leaf is paler than the upper side explains the effect they produce as you walk around the trees from a distance.
The visit ends at Bake Out for a coffee, or later in the day at the John Harvey Tavern for a pint of Harveys.
Lewes has it all. Though some benches along the river bank would be welcome. A project for the Town Council.
I’m ticking off another East Sussex Woodland Trust otherwise I might not have gone far from home – I’m going down with a cold. But the sun is out, the dog needs a walk and the fresh air usually does me good.
Not for the first time I got lost in the suburban entrails of a town, this time 1960s detached homes, and bungalows on the edge of the London to Brighton Rail Line. I don’t like to get caught in a cul de sac or turning circle in a dead end so parked when I felt close enough and could see tops of trees over garden fences. Asking a friendly dog walker gave me a way in – no through someone’s back garden (they do not even have access), but down the road, along a path, by the railway …
The top end of the walk was me getting out of the housing estate, and then doubling back along a narrow path between a link-chain fence and the railway and high fencing along people’s back gardens. An inauspicious start though had we wanted the brook by the bottom of the path might have been a spot for Evie to wet her feet and take a drink.
People are always friendly and usually have a dog with them. In this instance the conversation turned to ‘ash dieback’ before I even got to the wood. In the distance chainsaws wired. I reassured a depressed walker that over in Lewes we cut back the ash a few years ago and all the stumps were left to grow back. The dead or dying trunks need to be cut down before they kill someone I guess. It’s the responsible thing to do – especially where the wood is managed by the Wood Trust to provide accessibility.
There’s much that can be learnt from the Woodland Trust Management Plan for Butcher’s Wood which is available from the Woodland Trust website.
They were working on the trees when I was there, with intermittent chainsaw action, plenty of space in the canopy and piles of logs. Some will be left, some removed. Additional planting is unlikely as hornbeam, silver birch and sweet chestnut should self-seed I believe.
This is only the second time in a six weeks of doing these woodland walks that I’ve come across people at work – the paths kept me well away from them, across a patch of meadow into Lag’s Wood – privately owned, access permitted, with a brook running through one side of it.
I can understand the pleasure locals will have here, adults and children, for walks and picnics.
On the way back passing through Ditching I pulled over to get some photos of their effective traffic calming measured; I can’t see getting approval for this in Lewes, but this is what some residents are calling for. I’d like this on Winterbourne Lane to oblige the rat-run traffic to be more considerate, while over in Malling people would like something like this on the busy main road that is Malling Hill and Malling Street.
After a day in bed with a bad cold this short walk is just to reawaken my legs and get some fresh air into my lungs. It is also a change to enjoy the view, the early autumn colours and sounds, walk the dog and think about where else to live other than Lewes – like in the village of Glynde.
I’m now doubling up and walks which makes it a whole lot easier – I know where I am going and what to expect. Even ambling along we’ll be back in less than an hour, the hill is gentle and the entire thing less than one end of the Newcastle Town Moor and back.
I got a negative PCR test back for Covid early this morning after a test on Thursday afternoon. I have cold systems, not full-blown Covid-19 or ‘Flu symptoms but best be certain before I start mixing with people again next week. As it is I declined the Lewes Town Hall event yesterday evening.
This is the sort of walk to do before or after a pub lunch; sadly there is no Glynde Pub, just a tea room that is only open in summer. Or is there a pub over by the station? I should investigate. Here I come for the view, best enjoyed on a clear day such as today.
If you don’t park by the Village Shop, then there’s a layby on the way out of the village just beyond Glynde Place heading out towards Glyndebourne.
The village has a number of old dwellings, a blacksmiths and workshops. It’s a buzz during Art Wave in September and has a busy cricket field and lovely children’s playground too.