A MAGIC TIME
By
Sue Grey
How I long to stroll once again with you, hand in hand, through acres of sunlit meadows bustling with ewes and their springtime lambs. To smell again the sweet freshly baled hay, mixed together with the aroma of delicious salt sea spray. These are some of the magic things I still want to wake up to today.
We would trudge along the top of the White Cliff path, and nestled deep, shrouded in the mist of the valley below, we would watch and listen to the 24 hour Port of Dover, where thousands of ferried passengers, lorries and cars from the Continent to England still come over. Today, the numbers still continue to grow and the Port operations, whatever the weather or time of year, effortlessly flow.
But further along that expanse of coast, if the tide was just right, sometimes we would catch a glimpse of the battered remnants of shipwrecks still embedded in the treacherous Goodwin Sands, a chilling reminder of the tremendous power of the sea and the insignificance of man.
Onwards, usually out of breath by now, still we would climb to reach the top of the winding chalk hill, and there stood majestically and proud on top of the White Cliffs was the Old Coastguard Tea Rooms. We couldn’t resist admiring the riot of colourful flowers bursting from its window sills. Once inside, a delicious strawberry cream tea was the perfect accompaniment for the views across the English Channel and for us to gaze further out to sea. The French coastline we could often make out through the balmy heat haze, then we would pour ourselves another cup of English tea and be thankful for living in such a beautiful part of the country. The view from the cliff top would never cease to amaze.
Back we would travel the few miles to our country cottage home, drinking in once again that salt sea spray, admiring the windmill surveying the lush green fields from its position on top of the hill, set amongst acres of grade one farmland, which even today, can you believe, the greedy developers want desperately with new homes to infill !
The Village Hall was the heart of the community, Fetes, Mini Markets and Jumble Sales, where an assortment of home made cake and coffee for the locals was always free. The drama group production we always enjoyed to see, with its fun and laughter, and a glass of homemade dandelion wine in the village hall we drank after, if you didn’t want the tea. Thankfully, the weekly class of yoga and tai chi worked off all that delicious cake and tea. We couldn’t forget the social quiz nights and the agony we endured pouring over the questions and the answers right on the tip of our tongues we should have had. What more could this little village offer? I remember those young Mums and Toddlers, and the bell ringing, enjoying listening to the choir practising their singing.
Then the main event of the year, the Annual Village Fete, We would guess the weight of the immaculately iced cake, the winning bets you always seemed to place. Morris Men would skip and jump around, wooden sticks and ringing bells on their feet did sound. We enjoyed the judging of the Guernsey Cows, and the Gloucester Old Spot Pigs, then we’d take in the Dog Show and even a mad Ferret Race. How about the prettiest pet who looked just like its owner, we didn’t like to decide who had the better face! Another welcome cake and cuppa would help us maintain the pace. It was such a close knit friendly community and a very magic place.
Then the bitter cold snows of winter arrived, some of the activities in the village they did subside. A milestone anniversary we did celebrate, I dreamt of us forever together, but your true feelings you could not hide. It was for you, another model, newer, younger from the city you did decide.
So today years later, the landscape of my life is in a very different place, motorway congestion, supermarket queues and a whole set of new faces. The busy pace of life here is a million miles away from those relaxed cliff top teas and dramatic seascape places. Time has marched swiftly on, and life is sweet again, but always I will hold in my heart the magic time I treasure the most; my years spent with you in that unspoilt country village on the idyllic Kent coast.