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Collect footpaths in Catsfield

26/11/2014

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Waymarkers and autumn leaves
I collect footpaths.

As outdoor list-ticking hobbies go, it’s fairly prosaic. Not for me a recognisable pastime: no notebook and anorak on a railway siding (trainspotter); no binoculars welded to eyes in a small hut on an RSPB reserve (twitcher); no energy-bar-fuelled scrambles up the highest peaks in the country (peak bagger). I admit, I do have a minor passion for trig points, but it's yet to develop into a full-blown trespassing, spreadsheet-wielding obsession.

Instead, I’ve limited myself to the confines of OS Explorer map 124 and anything printed on it in dark green - footpaths, bridleways, long distance routes and byways. I trace out the routes of walks taken in yellow highlighter, so that my map now resembles a fluorescent spiderweb with threads stretching from Winchelsea to Burwash Common and Pevensey.

This peculiar pastime explains why, one fine November day, my partner and I end up traipsing around nowhere in particular in the mud near Catsfield.

Autumn mornings that dawn this bright, this blue, cry out for a change of plans. “Go somewhere with a brilliant view,” they sing. “Climb the South Downs, drive up to Brightling, do that walk you love around Icklesham!”

Unfortunately, serious list-ticking requires the dedication to sometimes forgo the simpler pleasures of life. Today, Catsfield rights of way numbers 11a, 11b, 12a, 17a, 17b, 21a, 21b,  22, 23 and 25 must take priority.


Before we start, I get chatting to Janet Moore, a Beautiful Battle volunteer who is weeding the garden in front of Pilgrims Rest. Janet has volunteered here “every Thursday, whatever the weather” for years and she tells me that this June she saw hummingbird hawk moths visiting the lavender bushes. I’m tempted to keep talking, but those Catsfield paths call me on, in a manner totally unlike that in which the warmer climes of Africa call migratory moths at the end of summer.

We negotiate a few obstacles - a quagmire at the back of Battle Abbey and hair-raising sprint across Powdermill Lane between speeding cars - then hit our stride. The private road to Peppering Eye Farm is a delight, with glimpses of animals through the hedge, a faded old “children playing” road sign and a cosy community of repurposed buildings nestled around an oast house.

We spot a few squirrels, cross the rushing water of Powdermill Stream and gaze along a wooded valley, where a pale puff of chimney smoke mirrors the clouds on the horizon. Climbing out of previously-highlighted territory and onto a ridge road, we get a view of the South Downs in the distance.


The view doesn’t last. We sink into the rain-softened earth, down the hillside to the pretty hamlet of Watermill. We admire Orchard Cottage, which is for sale to someone with deeper pockets than our own. The footpath runs away alongside an oft-repaired wall, displaying materials from brick to flint, in a varying styles and degrees of neatness. Feeling arty, I snap a photo.

We decide that Watermill, on Watermill Lane, is named after a long-gone watermill. Perhaps with our extraordinary powers of insight we should have predicted the ground here would take a turn from muddy to positively riparian. We ford what feels like a small river, and my mood clouds over with the sky. It starts spitting. I descend into soggy socks and a glumness that persists as we squelch through damp fields and get ourselves stuck in some brambles.

But then the vast greyness of the Ninfield power substation looms up before us. Although pylons march across the hills to this point from at least three directions, I somehow never realised it existed. The sheer unexpectedness of it jolts me out of my mood.

I peer down at a tiny person in work gear scurrying between the massive pillars, then crane my neck back to view the strings of huge glass insulator beads festooning a nearby tower. My partner and I try to imagine a film or TV programme to suit the setting: sci-fi, probably, of a the classic Doctor Who variety, with a few alien villians wonderfully cobbled together from primary school art supplies. The rain stops.

In my newly cheerful state, even the concrete wall around the perimeter seems interesting, dappled with moss and shadows, with zebra stripes where rain has run down the fence spikes above. In the interest of fairness, I photograph this wall, too.


Stepping into a hushed wood, autumn leaves drift down around us. The trees are already half-bare, a sure sign that winter will soon be setting in. With the coming season in mind, it feels appropriate that the path then leads us through the middle of Catsfield Christmas Tree Farm. We amuse ourselves by pointing out our favourite specimens - mostly the wonky ones that look nothing like the classic, conical tree.

The final few collectable paths are marked by an epic variety and quantity of fungi. I attempt to memorise the mushrooms for future identification, when I have a book and the internet to hand. I also fail to take any photographs, and my memory can later only provide me with snippets like, “Delicate and white,” or, “Looked a bit like a chestnut,” or, “Growing in a big pile of poo.”

We find a bench on Skinners Lane on the way into Catsfield and soak up a warm patch of afternoon sun while sipping tea from our thermos. We are surrounded by even more toadstools. At last, there’s one I can identify for sure - the fairytale red and white fly agaric.


Our home stretch along the 1066 Country Walk is already familiar and well-highlighted on my map, so we forge ahead. I’m so intent on getting out of my damp socks that I almost miss it: there, just for a second, a bright orange fox flashes through the dappled sunlight, highlighting her own swift path between the trees.
Footpath through field
Old road sign
House and apple tree
Brick and flint wall
Pond and reflection
Concrete wall with patterns
Christmas tree farm
Red toadstool with white spots

If you'd like to do this walk yourself, please feel free to download this GPX file, created using the Walk Highlands route planner.
GPX file of Battle-Catsfield walk
File Size: 11 kb
File Type: gpx
Download File


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Talk about tea, again

19/11/2014

7 Comments

 
It's been a while since my first blog post about tea, so it's high time to re-visit the topic. I'd love to hear your tea-related questions in the comments - I'll do my best to answer them there or in a future post. But for now, make yourself a brew and take a few minutes to relax . . .
Tea in a decorative glass
Flavour is not only in the mouth, but in the mind. A beautiful glass can enhance the tea-drinking experience. ("A Japanese tea" by Maaco.) *

Why is my tea bitter?

Yuck! There are three main possibilities that your tea tastes too bitter: you used too much tea, your water was too hot, or you brewed it for too long. It could also be that your tea is a cheap teabag of green tea dust, but that can often be mitigated by being careful about the other three factors. My suggestion, if following the packet instructions is producing a bitter brew, is to experiment with the following:
  • Tea quantity: For most teas, you only need one teaspoon of leaves per cup of water. You don’t need “one for the pot” – especially if you’re making jasmine tea (trust me). While adding more tea leaves can produce a more intense flavour, one of the flavours it’s likely to amplify is tannin-y bitterness. Some people, especially when drinking tea without milk or sweetener, like to use even less than a teaspoon of tea per cup. Experiment to find what's right for your tastebuds, your mood and the tea you're using.
  • Water temperature: Many black teas and most herbal/fruit infusions can take water straight off the boil, but boiling water can scald the leaves of delicate black, oolong, green and white teas. If you're using a kettle, let it sit for a minute or two before pouring the water over the leaves (or add a bit of cold water if you can’t wait). If using an urn, put the water in the cup/pot and let sit for 30 seconds before adding the leaves.
  • Infusion time: As a general rule, I start with 2-2.5min for green tea, 3-3.5min for black tea, 5min for herbal/fruit teas. (There are many exceptions to this rule, like the Keemun described in my last tea post, the 10 second brewing time for Pu-erh, or the completely different preparation method for matcha.) Timing is tricky, because you want to get the fullest flavour from the leaves, but if you leave it too long you’ll get bitter, “stewed” tea.
Having said all this, there is also the possibility that you just don't like a particular kind of tea. That's OK. Not everyone has to like everything. Let me know how your experimenting goes.

What are your opinions on teabags?

Remember how I said people shouldn’t be snobs about tea? Because tea is all about enjoyment and we shouldn’t look down our noses at other people’s enjoyment? Well, it was a noble sentiment, but my opinion on teabags is that they’re mostly pretty dodgy.

A lot of people prefer teabags to loose-leaf tea "for convenience", especially if they’re making tea at work. I can understand that and I have been known to drink tea and other infusions from teabags – gasp! But the ritual of making tea is part of the enjoyment for me. I’d much rather take an extra few seconds to spoon loose leaf tea into an infuser (a deep, mesh-basket style is good, because it lets the leaves expand) and an extra minute or two to let the tea infuse properly and rinse out the infuser. This way, I end up more relaxed and with a better tasting cup of tea.

But, if you must use a teabag, then hear this! Not all teabags are created equal. First, there are the ones most people mean when they say “teabag”, i.e. supermarket brands like Tetley’s, Typhoo, PG Tips, Yorkshire, Lipton or Twinings (if you’re fancy). Then there are the silk pyramids and similar you get from specialty tea companies like Tea Pigs.**

One difference between the two is that the silk bags are usually filled with a better grade of tea (i.e. larger leaf pieces or intact leaves, like a good loose-leaf tea) and the bags are bigger, which allows the leaves to expand and the water to circulate while steeping. These teabags give a more interesting flavour, offer more variety and stay fresher for longer (because the oils don’t evaporate as quickly due to the smaller surface area). Supermarket brand tea bags usually contain a lower grade of tea (i.e. tea fannings or dust – very small pieces of broken leaf). These leaves make a stronger tea and have a shorter brewing time, but the tea lacks subtlety and variation. The takeaway message is: check the content of the teabag - generally, the bigger the leaf the better the quality.

In the end, though, it’s up to you: I won’t judge you for making teabag tea. Unless you’re running a café and I’m paying for it, in which case, I will absolutely judge you and definitely find you wanting.
Close up of white tea leaves
Whole white tea leaves. ("Fujian Silver Needle" by Rebecca Siegal.)
Green tea leaves in a cup
Whole green tea leaves. ("Sencha" by Christian Kaden.)
Oolong tea leaves
Whole oolong tea leaves. ("Fujian Rain" by Rebecca Siegel.)
A tea bag
A teabag filled with tea dust. ("Tea Bag" by Anders Adermark.)

Notes

* All photos licenced for use under Creative Commons, click through to find original images on Flickr.
** Then there are novelty teabags that look like goldfish - which, yes, OK, fine, I admit they're cute.

Do you have a question about tea? A correction or further advice for your fellow readers? Leave a comment!

7 Comments

Walk from Battle to Robertsbridge

12/11/2014

4 Comments

 
There is something magical and slightly eerie about walking in a heavy mist.
Battle Abbey in mistBattle Abbey gates in the mist.
On this early morning in autumn, the world seems small, still and hushed. Down Battle High Street, the top of the abbey gates fade into fog. The view from Whatlington Road towards Battle Great Wood is a soft, featureless glow. Instead of distant vistas, my attention settles on closer, more intimate details. Precise, silver-spun spiderwebs drape over the trees and fences, glistening with tiny beads of water. My breath stirs the mist, which swirls in a brief dance as I pass. A family of sparrows chirrups quietly in the brambles and I disturb a watching cat – he flashes me a wide-eyed glance, then slides around the corner and disappears.

This mist-bound world moves with me as I turn down a narrow farm track. The hedge melts into view when I step forward, then dissolves away behind me.

Old ambulanceThe old ambulance.
The landscape hidden by the fog is infinite. What lies beyond those trees, across the field, in the valley? The mist is keeping secrets. Maybe the High Weald has been replaced by a towering mountain range. Maybe the sea has swept in overnight, quietly but completely submerging everything around Battle Ridge. Maybe the ghost armies of 1066 are clashing silently just out of sight. Maybe I am displaced. Is this burnt-out corpse of a 1970s ambulance a figment of my imagination? Have I stepped out of time itself?

I entertain these thoughts with a little thrill, almost certain the everyday world will return soon, when the mist disperses in the sun.

The human world is waking up. I hear the ringing clangs of someone working on their home extension, and there’s an old Land Rover idling, door open, next to a field of excited Shetland ponies. I cross the rail line just in time to see the tail of the London-Hastings train. But despite these signs, I meet no one. I circumnavigate a damp field, pick my way along an overgrown path, and meander beside a stream through a beech wood. I peer into a derelict shelter that looks like a horror movie setpiece, wave to an empty train, dash across the A2100, greet some friendly horses and find myself in Mountfield.

The mist has burnt off now, and the eeriness has gone with it. I receive a hearty, “Good morning!” from a group of adults and children trailing bikes and horses, out to make the most of a beautiful sunny day. It’s so sunny that after climbing across the stubble fields to Mountfield Church, I stop to put on some sunscreen.

Mountfield Church
Mountfield Church.
It’s a lovely spot. I end up sitting in the well-kept churchyard a while, drinking tea from my thermos, nibbling a biscuit and watching buzzards wheel and spiral above. Organ music from the Sunday service drifts from the church. It mingles with the whistling cries of the buzzards, the grunt of a distant tractor and the quiet bleating of sheep to create an idyllic rural soundscape. I start to feel a certain companionship with the people who rest here more permanently – this is as good a place as any to stop.
Mountfield CourtMountfield Court.
But the path calls me onwards, up the grand sweep of road to Mountfield Court, then over the rise beyond. Fields fall gently away to a treeline starting to blush with autumn colour: yellows, oranges and browns mingle in with the lingering dark greens of late summer. The view towards Robertsbridge makes the town seem tantalisingly close. The path sinks into the valley, then twists swiftly northwards between the stream and the railway line.

I pause at a laden sloe bush and pluck a few handfuls of ripe, purple fruit to make sloe gin. As I do, I spot an odd thing: a crow with white wing tips flaps past me and begins strutting across the field. I later learn that these white feathers are a sign of leucism and they aren’t too rare an aberration. But for now, the puzzle stays with me as I head into Robertsbridge.

The train back to Battle seems to take seconds. Scenes whiz past too quickly to take in. “I walked there! And there!” I think. There’s nobody in the field where I waved to an earlier train, so I raise my hand to past-me, instead.

Waymarker
Public footpath waymarker and autumn colours near Mountfield Court.

This article first appeared as "Taking steps from Battle to Robertsbridge" in the Battle Observer, Friday 12 October 2014, p65.

4 Comments

Report: American football poised to conquer Hastings

5/11/2014

0 Comments

 
The UK’s first ever fan-owned, co-operative American football club is aiming to score big time with an application to join the national league next season and the imminent launch of their local youth programme.
American football game by Ree Dawes
Hastings Conquerors in action. Photo by Ree Dawes courtesy of Hastings Conquerors AFC.
Hastings Conquerors American Football Club was established in April 2013 to take local interest in the sport to the next level. As newcomers, the team has just undertaken what is known as an associate season to prove it is financially viable and capable of fulfilling fixtures and hosting games. Now, with the 2014 season almost over, the club’s plans and financial records have been submitted to the national governing body and the team hopes to enter national competition in 2015.

As well as trying for the national spotlight, Hastings Conquerors wants to expand local interest and participation through its community and youth programmes.

The club recently teamed up with Bexhill College to bring 10 free American football training sessions to students. Hastings Conquerors Chairman Chris Chillingworth hopes the Sport England funded sessions are the beginning of something bigger. “We would absolutely love for Hastings to become an American Football town here in the UK,” said Mr Chillingworth.

The Bexhill sessions are giving coaches a chance to warm up for the Conquerors’ youth programme, set to kick off in January. The programme will be open to boys and girls aged between 16 and 19, offering teenagers a chance to attend regular training and possibly entering into a league. Luke Boorer, the club’s Commercial Manager, noted, “This is just the first step. We want to make the sport of American Football a complete family affair.”

Hastings Conquerors was the first co-operatively run American football club in the UK (the Aberdeen Roughnecks have recently followed suit). Mr Boorer explained, “This means we are owned by our fans, for the fans, by the fans.”

A share in the club can be purchased for £30 per year, and shares are limited to one per person. “One owner, one share, one vote,” said Mr Boorer. “No one person can ever own the club.” Shareholders choose a committee to see to the day-to-day administration of the club, with bigger decisions voted on by shareholders themselves. “We’re very proud of the way we operate,” said Mr Boorer. “I think our club is run in the best possible way.”

American Football is one of the fastest growing sports in the UK, due to the NFL’s investment in the sport in this country. Hastings Conquerors and Sussex Thunder represent the South East along with three teams from Kent and five in the London area. There is also a national universities competition, won last year by Brighton Tsunami.

Hastings Conquerors would like to hear from locals interested in volunteering, playing or coaching – regardless of their level of expertise. “Most of our players, when they started, knew very little about American Football,” noted Mr Boorer. The club also want so set up a discount card to help connect shareholders with local businesses, and would like to hear from interested businesses.

Get in touch (down)!
  • Find Hastings Conquerors online: Website / Facebook / Twitter
  • Volunteer, play or coach: recruitment@hastingsconquerors.co.uk
  • Business links: finance@hastingsconquerors.co.uk or 07946 449 378

This article first appeared in Hastings Independent, Issue 16, 10 October 2014, p12.

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