Journal

Chidham 1 Chidham 2 – the crash-site is alongside the copse on the horizon Chidham 3 Chidham 4 Chidham 5 Coastal signpost Bosham boat West Wittering flag Elaine Dunes, East Head Prospecting East Head panorama 1 Panorama 2 Panorama 3

Next month, more precisely 16 August, will mark the seventieth anniversary of the day Tim was shot down during the Battle of Britain, with his Hurricane crashing into the south end of the Chidham peninsula, part of Chichester Harbour, and him landing by parachute near West Wittering. We got as close as we could to the crash site without infringing private property more than we already had done to get to the coastal path, then walked on through a haze of butterflies – and what I think were thunder flies, which blackened by orange shirt at one stage. One treat was seeing an egret on the shore at one point.

After a ploughman’s lunch in Bosham, we drove south to West Wittering, where we parked and made our way out onto East Head, a wonderful complex of sand dunes. The landscape was intensely familiar, given that we have quite a number of the paintings that Caroline did many years ago after visiting the place, for the same reason that we were there. A huge, atmospheric sky, but the rain – which had seemed imminent for much of the day, held off.

Pawprint in Roman tile Legionnaire and spinner Cherub riding dolphin Seahorse mosaic

Day started with a visit to Fishbourne Roman ‘Palace’, which delivered an unexpected pleasure, in that I have been reading Poseidon’s Steed: The Story of Seahorses, From Myth to Reality, by Helen Scales, and there in one of the best-known Roman mosaics in the country was an unmistakable seahorse – albeit allowing for a little poetic licence on the part of those who laid the floor.

River fronds Skyscape 1 Skyscape 2 Skyscape 3: where Catholics prayed for generations, at some peril Garden bugler Chairs Damsel in repose Convocation Skyscape 4 Skyscape 5

We drove south to Midhurst in Sussex today, walking around the town and stumbling on the ruins of Cowdray House. I had known of its role in history in Tudor times – but had no idea that this is where it was. A wonderfully kept site, but a pretty tragic history at times, what with the fire that reduced the great house to ruins in 1793, and the death by drowning of an  heir around the same time. Not sure I believe the story of a curse laid upon the family during the dissolution of the monasteries, that they would be destroyed by fire and water, but it provides a neat hook on which to hang the tragedies.

Later in the afternoon, we arrived at the house where we were to stay, set in woodland, found with the good services of one of Alastair Sawday‘s invaluable guides, only to find the owners in turmoil, she having reacted badly to treatment with monoclonal antibodies. As they headed off to the hospital, we settled in. I had looked the place up on Google Earth and seen a huge quarry nearby, but there was no sense of it from the house itself – and the landscape around here is wonderful. Thank heavens they have declared it part of the country’s latest National Park, including, apparently, the sand ridge into which the quarry has been digging.

Some of Tim’s cucumbers Maple keys – where the Bramley used to stand Pat at Burford Garden Centre Lavender bed

Spent the first two days of my week off at Hill House, with my parents, beginning to decompress. Saw quite a bit of Tessa and her boys, who were there, too. Among other things, took Caroline to the Borzoi bookshop in Stow-on-the-Wold and drove Pat across to the Burford garden centre. Slowing down made me realise just how much of an adrenaline junkie I am at times. What an oasis this has been.

It often strikes me–and others–as I report on my travels in this blog series that I love a remarkably privileged live. It also strikes me that the air travel component is something that future generations will not be able to enjoy unless there is an unforeseen breakthrough in carbon-neutral flight. Reading Helen Simpson’s wonderful collection of short stories a few days back, called In-Flight Entertainment, I was reminded of this concern by her story Ahead of the Pack.

In it, a personal carbon emissions consultant says something rather memorable about photograph albums. Given the pace of climate change, he notes, and the first bit of this is something I have often said, the world will be looking around for scapegoats. “Children will be accusing parents, and wise parents will have disappeared all visual evidence of Dad’s gap year in South America and Mum on Ayers Rock and the whole gang over in Florida waiting in line to shake Mickey’s hand.”

Both at SustainAbility and at Volans, we have long offset our carbon emissions, in many cases doubling our offsets and asking clients to do likewise. But, as I argued when we started perhaps 9 or 10 years ago, this really has been a bit like the medieval indulgences that were meant absolve you from your sins. So then the only excuse I’m left with is that the work we do when we get to the other end is God’s work–well, good work at least. But In-Flight Entertainment has picked at an uncomfortable scab.