On New Year’s Eve this year I made a promise to do more travelling for Fashion Foie Gras. It seems someone was listening somewhere to my requests as I’ll be visiting four different countries over the next six weeks. However, what I really wanted to do more than anything else in 2013 was to see more of the beautiful English countryside. So, when Mr. FFG called on Sunday and said I needed to pack my camera and some warm clothes for a Sunday drive, I didn’t object. I closed the laptop, reached for the Nikon and my trusty Lole Women puffy jacket and headed for the door. There were a few hiccups along the way to that exit. For example, my camera was dead as a doornail. But in the end I made it into the vehicle and off we sped to the English seaside.
It should be mentioned at this point that I had no idea where we were going. It wasn’t until I started to see signs for Brighton that I questioned Mr. FFG on where we were headed. He assured me we weren’t revisiting a sight I had seen before. He was in fact correct. As we pulled up to Beachy Head, I discovered that this was a plot of land I had yet to walk in my travels on this great island over the past decade.
I jumped out of the car with a great enthusiasm for breathing in some fresh air outside of London and was nearly bowled over by a gust of wind so strong I was sure we were about to be blown away. We both braced ourselves and headed out towards the cliffs of Beachy Head, which overlook the town of Eastbourne. Apparently Eastbourne is a hopping location in the warmer months. However, on this particular day it looked quite peaceful as about a dozen folks walked the cliffs to and from the town.
Now, a bit of history about Beachy Head. I don’t know much really, so don’t get too excited. However, I do know that this happens to be one of the most popular places for people to plunge to their death in the UK. Lovely fact to share, right? Not to fear as apparently they now have people that patrol the area to make sure such activities are kept to a minimum. After hiking along the cliff’s edge, however, I’m starting to think less people jump here than are simply blown over the edge. There are barely any railings to speak of and in many cases you don’t realise you are approaching a cliff until you are nearly walking off it. Not exactly the safest place but a fun day if you are in for a thrill and the amusement parks are all full.
As I write this I’m actually sitting here with thighs that feel like lead. It was the grand idea of Mr. FFG that we should walk down grassy hills towards the seaside and back up again. Let me tell you that an incline that is nearly straight up and down, hiked in UGG Boots (remember I didn’t know where we were going), makes for an interesting workout. Part of me feared for my life for if I slipped and tumbled it would be straight off into the rocks below. The other part of me knew I had to appear brave in front of the man. I tread a fine line there.
In the end, we survived the trip and made our way into the local pub to try out the fish and chips that couldn’t have been fresher, or more appreciated at the time. My fingers, toes and nose were nearly frozen solid from the icy winds. But you know what? I’d do it all again in a heart beat and I fully intend on returning, with appropriate footwear and perhaps a walking sticks. Anyone upf or joining me in the summer months?