Thursday, June 13, 2013

 

Bolney. Sussex.

The 2013 June weather continues......grey, blustery, wet....with occasional outbursts of blue sky.
The walk I planned has been put aside.
We have had too much rain for walking in the mud alongside a river.
We needed something where we could be reasonably sure of solid ground. A village suits.
And believe it or not, after 70 years of living in north Sussex, there are still unexplored villages.
We turned off the A23 to explore Bolney.
The A23 has moved......but not Bolney!
Bolney has parallel village streets......one was the A23 once. Somehow I did feel that The Bolney Stage hotel/pub had moved. It surprised me to see it in all its glory where it was.
It is the other street which is the heart of the village....a long and straggly village.
We parked the car and began to walk north.
Many of the houses were recent, neat bungalows or quite large dwellings.
But some looked old.

These houses look like  16th century Tudor, but date only from about 1900.
























I I I             I I.liked the art work, advertising this house as a the village centre for dog grooming.
And I loved the colourful garden table and chairs.

The village post box.....opposite the house which on 3 days a week is the post office.






























No family ancestors in this Sussex village. But like all villages men had been lost during the 2 Great wars.



















At about this point the solid road petered out and we were on a footpath.....part of the High Weald Footpath.


Quite dark and gloomy...and at times very, very windy.
That's why I have the hat....to keep hair out of my face.






























Having checked the OS map, I feel sure that this sturdy bridge over the footpath carries nothing more than a farm track.
I see no evidence of there having been a railway there once.































A mother nature wood sculpture by the path.



















It should be considered a blot on the landscape - dumped farmer's horse box.
It won't be carrying any horses again.




















The wood pile.





































































More discarded farm machinery.
A muck spreader.






















A garage window and a garage door.
























Now we are at the south end of the village, amongst the old heart. The buildings here are 400/500 years old.

The church and the stinging nettle.

Mother nature and the human hand created this sculpture in the churchyard.

Daisies...perfect flowers to adorn a grave.
It was then that I began to ponder a little on my one tenuous connection with Bolney.
Twenty years ago, when I was very ill indeed, I was encouraged to attend the hospice day care centre.
Was I going to die? I didn't know and I didn't care!
I had slipped into the world of "one day at a time".
I enjoyed my days there and met some lovely people......all passed away either during my time there or soon after.
One of them was Ann, about my age. She lived in Bolney.
I turned from the daisies and was facing her grave.
I am so glad that the hospice gave you the opportunity to go to Wimbledon to see top class tennis, Ann.
If the truth be known, I was slightly jealous!!
Oh how she would have loved to have had what I have had......20 more years of a wonderful life.
Part of the old village school. Earlier it had been bustling there as the children in their bright red jumpers poured out of school to meet their mothers.
In the church yard.


Opposite the church stands the pub....The Eight Bells.
I am still not used to modern pub opening hours......we tentatively tried the door, to be welcomed inside.
We enjoyed our half pints. Bill loves his cider these days. I opted for a beer called Cornish Coaster.
I normally stick loyally to local brews, but the Cornish ale appealed and I was not disappointed.








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