July 22 Possibly back to my roots

Pagham Harbour (birding), Chichester- cathedral, Goodwood, Kingsley Vale

You will be pleased to know the roots element of the title of this post refers to an American usage and not the Australian meaning.  The 'possibility' refers to the difficulty we are experiencing in finding out whether Goodwood is open for gawping on the week we are in the area.  I sent them a nice note explaining my links to the House, through Mum having been in service there in the 1920s or 30s but thus far they haven't replied to this missive.

For the first time I watched the TV news which was to use an appropriate Pommie term, naff.   It appears Ms Cambridge has not yet popped out the next in line so they are having to celebrate a Kenyan (raised in South Africa winning the Tour de France.  I wonder if, like Australia claiming Phar Lap and John Clarke,  the Poms would be claiming him as theirs if he was Wamaasai rather than a Mzungu?

At about 6am Ms Cambridge has snuck into hospital in early labour (perhaps not early New Labour).  Wait for the uproar.  At 5pm she still hasn't done the business but Sky News is interviewing Poms in the street who are apparently expressing opinions on the matter.

We decided to have a slow start to the day and Frances wandered off to the sea wall to draw fishing boats while I had a shower and wrote up yesterday.  When I joined her, after noting yet again the collection of plaster pigs – one being ridden by a gnome - in a front garden 

opposite the Lifeboat pub,

she excitedly pointed out some Turnstones busy on the shingle

where there were many stones to be turned,  Sometimes they took a breather on the groynes.

On the way back I noticed that the lifeboat shed doors were open so wandered out there.

Some vital supplies (in bottles and cans) were being installed – apparently left overs from a station BBQ on the weekend.  I chatted to the coxswain and found out many interesting things.  He and a mechanic were paid employees and they need three others to run the big boat and a further three for a Zodiac.  It is difficult to get the volunteers because most people work out of Selsey and many employers are so strapped for resources they can't – or won't - give people time off for such duty.  Night time rescues are OK because the commuters are back home.

They have boards up showing their tasks.  

It works out to about £750 per board to get it made, painted and the words written up.  They need another 10 boards , but the RNLI won't fund it.  There are definitions of when someone is 'brought in' or 'saved': it seems that to be a saving the boat really has to be sinking with no chance of anyone else doing the rescue.   My favourite of those listed is the 9 people and 1 dog brought in.

As we got to shore I noticed an artistic array of rope on a shed door

before there was more overhead noise in the air which turned out to be the Red Arrows out for a hoot.  This almost distracted me from sign of the day (if not the trip).

On leaving we first went to the Chapel of St Wilfred in Church Norton.  (The 'Norton part of the name simply means "North Town".)

Wilfrid seems to have arrived about 725 CE and been given land for a monastery.  We read on a sign about Selsey's history that he had taught the Saxon natives how to fish.  This is repeated in one of the windows in the Chapel,

but the idea seemed bizarre so I asked a lady visitor who was in there about it and she didn't.  She did ask her son, who coincidentally was an historian and he said it was true, at home in Saxony the Saxons were farmers and didn't know how to fish.

We added a few birds to the trip and caught a fleeting glance at a seal in Pagham Harbour.  A great little area which seems popular with the locals and will be revisited.

We then gave battle with Chichester.  Parking was both a pain and a ripoff.  A pain because it was not possible to tell where the cathedral was (and thus to know where to park) and a rip off because instead of telling you how much time you got as you pumped in coins you had to get to a thresh‑hold value to get the time you need.  I failed this so we were pushed for time and didn't give the Cathedral 

the attention it probably deserved. 

The Chagall window was brilliant 

as were various other art works.

Coming back the Market Cross was a good example of its type.

I also noted this mural - I don't think it can be classed as graffiti!

On, on to Goodwood where I spotted the motor racing track and airport.  We swung in to munch some baked goods acquired in the pedestrian area of Chichester.  I then went to ask if we could get to look at the Spitfires and was given directions to the aero club.  One appeared in the air above us and I got a fair snap.  After finding the tunnel to the Paddock walking through same – where else can you see a Ferrari, several Porches, a Bentley and a McLaren just sitting parked? - we found a Spitfire sitting on the ground. 

Cars were hammering round the track but we were able to wander over to the Pit Counter and just watch them hammer by: that is what I call motor sport.  I can't quite work out what brand of car this was: suggestions welcome!

I asked another punter (carrying as helmet so probably a little more involved than us) what was going on and he said it was track day, which wasn't really racing just “.... having fun and spending lots of money on fuel, tyres and brakes.”

On to Goodwood House 

where my Mum had been in service in the 1930s.  As noted in the preamble, I tried to use this to get some special treatment but failed miserably.  I did find out that there was a Clarke family associated with the Estate for many years which I assume would be some relatives on Mum's, who got her the job.  We took a tour of the State rooms of the House and I was able to establish that the Duke and Duchess Mum worked for were the Grandparents of the current Earl of March who runs the place.  The various titles come and go, but the family started off with a bastard son of Charles II being made the first Duke, and unlike many of the other Houses we have visited, the line has been maintained since then.

The current Earl has re-established some elements of Goodwood tradition, including use of the car race track with a huge historic event in September and Speed Week, which had been the week before (and the marquees etc at the House were still being dismantled.

On the way back to Gull Cottage we called in at the Coop where we had got great service on the weekend.  I assume they were all immigrants, because this afternoon things were back to the level of client service I expect to receive in the UK.  They have a nice little deli section and when we arrived there keen to buy some cheese, pork pie and olives.   There was no-one behind the counter and on asking a young person for help she said she'd have to get someone who was currently on the tills.  After a short while a 3F (fat foolish female) person appeared.  She advised that:

•  it would be difficult to give us cheese or pork pies as they weren't allowed to use the slicer.  On being asked, it emerged that;
• this was because they hadn't been trained to do so.  On being asked why there wasn't someone who had been trained;
• this was because the person doesn't work after 3pm so they cut a few bits to be sold after they leave.  If you want something else, tough.
• While we thought about this Frances asked for some olives (which didn't need cutting).  At this point 3F became the amazing disappeared woman.  When she returned after some few minutes it appeared that:
• she couldn't find the tubs in which to put the olives. 

The pelcian we were trying to communicate with didn't think once about 

• using a knife to cut the cheese (perhaps the institution in which she resides doesn't allow the inmates to use sharp things); nor
• putting the olives in a suitably sized plastic bag.

Nearly two weeks later Frances still shakes her head at this performance.    We never got any olives and took a 1kg chunk of cheese to save cutting it. Asking about the pork pie would probably have caused WWs III through IX so I didn't bother.  I may go back one morning – without Frances – to amuse myself in that matter. 

Beer this evening kicked off with the Hinton Ampner Ale I acquired from the Trust yesterday.  A very full flavoured golden ale.  This was followed by an Arundel Special Bitter which had adequate hops and very pleasing malt!  Probably beer of the trip thus far.

Bird of the Day: Turnstone

Building of the day: Chichester Cathedral

Garden of the Day: Gull Cottage

Bad taste of the Day: the plaster pigs in Albion st.

View of the Day: the marshland of Pagham Harbour

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