My lovely friends Chris and Barbara (they sort of feature in one of the photographs) invited me for a weekend at their cottage in Bosham, near Chichester, in Sussex and I was quick to accept, as the weather had been hot for days and I thought it would be nice to get out of London and feel the cooling sea breeze on my face. And so it proved, with the Sussex countryside in full, glorious bloom, lots of sunshine, laughter and relaxation. And food and drink, of course - you know me too well!
The Goodwood Estate just up the road was hosting one of its massive annual events, I think the Festival of Speed, so the whole area was due to be overrun by people and cars, making some destinations (especially nice country pubs!) perhaps difficult to get in to, or to at least enjoy properly. Certain road in the area were also due to be massively busy, especially those giving access to the event. Our solution: avoid Goodwood and environs completely,including all adjoining roads, and stick to our immediate area; this turned out to be an excellent plan.
On Friday evening, after an easy drive down in C + B's car, we opened up the cottage and got it ready to house us over the next couple of nights, then ambled down by Bosham harbour to a lovely brasserie for a bite to eat. The gorgeous flowery lanes just made the walk even more special, the light evening adding to the allure of what it, anyway, a pretty setting; the food and wine at our destination just helped to make it perfect as, through a minor mistake between service and kitchen, we ended up with an extra portion of tasty fish and chips to devour. The mushy peas that accompanied the fish were certainly the best I've tasted in along time. And despite the fact that we were walking back we were very sensible with our drinking - enough for pleasure and no more.My hosts are prodigious walkers and were contemplating a Saturday spent up hill and down dale, but thankfully they came to their senses: after a restrained breakfast we headed down to East Wittering and spent the morning and early afternoon walking along the beach to West Wittering and back, admiring (surely not the right word...) the various seafront residences, ranging from tumbledown - literally - shack to mock-Tudor mansion, with everything in between. In all we found one house we all thought was interesting and looked as if you could perhaps live in it for more than a weekend here and there and a month in the summer. Some houses were decrepit or had an air of abandonment, others were well maintained and/or busy with people enjoying the weather and a meal. The beach itself is long and unremarkable apart from the distant views and, on the day, was quite busy with people (even in the water), especially as we approached West Wittering with its organised cafe and water sports area.
The cafe is nothing to write home about, but still of a much higher level to many other similar establishments of the not too distant past (remember the Fawlty Towers styleof catering establishment?), with cheerful young serving staff and a nice if plain interior. My cappuccino, from a fully automatic machine, was drinkable, but only just, as was my friends' tea, though their cake looked pretty good (no, I was not jealous!), and I was grateful for the shade indoors. Most people were sitting outside in the sun baking but I demurred as, having being lulled into a sense of false security due to the cloud cover earlier, I had left my hat in the car and was feeling hot and bothered, despite my Mediterranean roots.
The walk back along the beach with the tide well out was more pleasant, with a light breeze and easier walking on the moist hard-packed sand, but I was still pleased to be back in East Wittering where the lovely fishmonger was offering local crabs at an excellent price, thereby solving our lunch issues together with the neighbouring greengrocer. The resulting crab salad sandwiches were not only excellent but light, thus leaving room for the main event - a pub supper - that evening. A mutual friend decided to join us a bit later and we spent the early evening playing croquet good-naturedly but with mixed success, at least for me. Well, when I say mixed success I mean complete disaster, completely ruining my team-mate's chances but increasing everyone's appetite; laughter does that for you!
Our destination for dinner was not a million miles away by car and is apparently renowned in the area for its fresh local fish selection, especially the fish and chips. I know that fried food is not great for one's health nor for an already enlarged physique such as mine, but I could not resist trying the fish and chips in order to compare with that of the previous evening (excuses, excuses...!), especially as they seemed to be selling countless portions. We did try counting, as we were seated next to the serving hatch, but so many were going out and the live singing was - unsuccessfully for me - warbling and distracting away, so countless they shall remain. The food was good but possibly not exceptional, and not unreasonably priced. The service on a teeming Saturday evening, with the sun shining and the singer wailing away, was justifiably a little slow but charming. And the view of the water was just lovely, a great background picture for a super evening, low on alcohol (for the driver, anyway) but high on good spirits and simple enjoyment. Life rarely gets better than this as far as I'm concerned, and I think that my photographs, clumsy as they are, somewhat support my assertion.
All good things must come to an end according to a well-known expression, and my stint at the seaside had to end too after another quiet evening and a good night's sleep at my friends' cottage. Sunday morning saw us breakfasting, then getting ready to lock up and leave to go back to C & B's home near Guildford, a short, easy drive on that Sunday morning, then for me a train ride back to the Big Smoke, London to you and me, clutching my little suitcase. And taking with me the warmth of the sun, and of true friendship.
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