1366

A week away - and I am not in charge!

For years I've always organised the days

Ensuring hours are profitably spent,

All educated in the local ways

With dates and vistas, views and monuments,

Till they merge in a pleasurable haze

Of boots and sticks, pub lunches, strange hotels,

Recalled for ducks in bathrooms, bedroom keys,

Reused teabags, small towels and soft beds,

House-rules on post-it notes and sneaked cream teas

Between full-English and the evening's meal;

Confusing and confused these memories please

Because, beside the days we can't recall,

They bring to mind real friendships which wont pall.

Brian Hick July 2014

©copyright Sally Hick 8.8.25

 1251

What a disaster!

First walk in thirty years where

All the pubs were closed.

Brian Hick February 2013

©copyright Sally Hick February 2025

1235

New Year 2013

The old year ended in a fit of squalls

Lashing rain and wind from off the sea

Keeping us indoors to clear the dregs

Of staling Christmas cake and cold turkey.

But the new-year's sun rose undefiled

To warm the downlands and our winter hearts

As we strode out to Alfriston, across

Firle Beacon, Bostlal Hill and parts

So muddy that we'd rather not recall

Their dank reality, preferring more

The joy of fierce light from out the east

And life returning from cold earth's core.

            No larks above, but our way is clear

            As we set out to face this brand new year.

Brian Hick January 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 3.1.25

 1317

Equinox - Bewl Water

Silent sultry

Late September days

A watercolour sky

Soft-focussed brooding

Drifts over Bewl

We walk clockwise

From Three Leg Cross

Through damp woodland

Up and over gentle hills

Down toward the water edge

On churned up muddy paths

Yachts drift past

A soft splash of canoes

Solitary birds unseen

Call from across an inlet

Distant laughter

Children's voices

A peal of bells

From hired bikes

Family filled

The water-side restaurant

Shuts out drowsy wasps

Who strafe the sun-cut terrace

A time-lapsed photograph

To mark the day

Cajoled we sample

Free goat curry

Before we move on

The day cools

We trudge across a bridge

Down empty lanes

To our parked car

And home.

Brian Hick September 2013

©copyright Sally Hick 2.11.24

                                                    Norfolk Coast Path

                                                    Friday

                                           Larks in the dappled

                                Sun on Weybourne cliffs guide us

                                             On our final day

Weybourne Priory, cliffs, larks

Skelding Hill past golf course

Art on the sea front

London style lunch but cheap

Abandon hill walk stay on beach

Heavy going so only get

to West Runton

Ladies have cakes - orange and maple / coconut and lime

Make for pier to complete the walk

heavens open up

Shelter until it goes over

But still raining as we leave.

 We shelter

But are still wet when we get back to Glendale.

Brian Hick April 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 18.4.24

                                                Norfolk Coast Path

                                               Thursday

                                         A warmer morning

                                 But by lunch the rain returns;

                                   Thankful for small mercies

                                         If Glendale's toilet

                                     Paper were any thinner

                                         It would not exist.

On with the walk but first we have to leave the car at Cley

And take the Hopper back to Wells, thankful that the day,

Though overcast, is free of wind and penetrating rain.

Damp underfoot the path from Wells to Morston is quite sound

Helping us to make up time

Morston oysters The Anchor alpacas and a dead mole

The rain and MUD, tea at Blakeney - no shops

Change in river course not on map

Get to Cley - nothing!

Wading through the sliding mud, it's onward till we drop

And as we get back to the car, the rain decides to stop

Brian Hick April 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 17.4.24

                                             Norfolk Coast Path

                                          Wednesday

                                     Cold and overcast

                               But today's rain comes as a 

                                      Blessing from BVM.

To Walsingham, the No29 goes all the way

But guided tours are off until late June, so we must pay

To show ourselves around the Abbey grounds and holy wells

Though cut our visit short as icy rain returns in squalls

Preferring coffee in the shrine cafe, or visit to

The Shrine Museum, the court and cells, for undesirables who

Got extra time for looking around, for whistling or singing

Whilst those who did far naughtier things are sent on via the shipping.

Soup, back in the shrine cafe, before we make a start

To walk round the Rosary Way which lies at the heart

Of Pilrimage to Walsingham - a journey for the mind

To focus ever more upon the mysteries, to find

A new way through the Labyrinth of emotions which entwine

Our seeking for the spiritual, our sense of the divine

Until within the Holy House we know that we have come

Not to an end but to a place where new quests are begun

For this place is a vehicle, a means of moving on,

A start of possibilities for life once we have gone

Back to our normalities, our families, our friends,

Where love and mercy daily find that giving never ends

And shrines, however beautiful, however filled with prayer,

Are dangerous if we come to believe that only there

Can we fulfil our purposes, experience true worth

When all the time, where're we are, we've all the gifts of earth.

The Albatros is open so we dine

On pancakes, beer and Scrabble until nine.

Brian Hick April 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 16.4.24

                                                   Norfolk Coast Path

                                                  Monday

                                        Early clear bright skies;

                                     Clouds  roll in but disappear

                                         Leaving evening calm.

The Wold Way leads us on to where St Edmund's Chapel stands

Then off across the dunes to trek the miles and miles of sand

Before The Lifeboat for light lunch - oysters & whitebait -

Which was worth it, though we had a fair old time to wait

Considering they were not full, but no one seemed to worry,

You'd think we're all on holiday, so no one's in a hurry.

Larks across the dunes

Scared by our approach

Rise, dip, soar

Till high above

They sing their safety

Laughing at our plodding

Earthbound plight.

A muntjac deer

Ambles round the golf course brush

Unseen pheasants squall to warn us off

Across the ploughed field

Hares circle

A pair of quail who dip and dive

Then lope away

To fade

Against the dark earth of the bank.

Brian Hick April 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 12.4.24

                    Norfolk Coast Path

St Edmumd, England's Saint and gentle sage,

          King and Lord of Anglia's Thanes

             Martyr to marauding Danes,

          Join us on our Norfolk Pilgrimage.

North Norfolk Coast - the wettest walk that we have ever done;

Hours and hours of driving rain and scarcely any sun,

But are we vexed? Do we give in before we've even started?

Not likely - we've wet weather gear and all of us stout-hearted.

After years of striding out in snow and sleet and hail

Nothing daunts us OAP's nothing makes us quail,

As long as there's a tea-room near and a quiet B&B

An old pub with real ale, and somewhere to have a pee.

Brian Hick April 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 10.4.24

 1151

How should I record our Norfolk walk?

Immediately pentameters ensare

And even if I try to break the mould

The form seems to assume I will not dare;

Yet each walk takes its own particular shape -

A sonnet cycle for the South Downs Way

An epic poem up on Hadrian's Wall

Reflective snippets for a single day.

But even when ideas begin to come

It takes some time before the hedge and mead,

The muddy path, the misty river bank,

Settle to the verse which you now read.

            So far I've abandoned several tries.

            It seems that I must wait for Norfolk's skies.

Brian Hick April 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 9.4.24

 1090

New Year 2012

No snow this year and winter seems to be

A waiting room before the new buds burst

To green and warm our gardens by the sea.

No snow this year.

On New Year's day, we join up for the first

Walk of the season with friends who willingly

Brave the cold, aware we've walked through worse

And knowing four brisk miles will find us ready

For lunch at The Queen's Head, our chapped lips pursed

And keen for wise and wassail; though sad to see

No snow this year.

Brian Hick January 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 10.1.24

 1052

A storm of rooks mass over Hoad Hill Farm

            As rain clouds gather from the west;

            So we stride on, making the best

Of a winter walk, suppressing the odd qualm

At bullocks in a cluster by the thorn,

            Deepening puddles round damp gates,

            Thick mud which might make us late

For lunch, before the road back to Eastbourne.

Brian Hick November 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 5.12.23

 960

What better way

To end the day

A long bath

With iced Pimms.

Dr Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 14.7.23

 959

When Sally went to Westgate as a child

Her family took delight in getting lost.

Setting out each evening - as the mild

Mid-summer air cooled and the host

Of day trippers disappeared - they

Would search the lanes and byways, putting trust

In providence to find a different way

To an undiscovered pub before the dusk.

Today, we walked for further than we'd intended

As far as The Dog & Duck at Pluck's Gutter

But, lunching in the garden, all was mended,

For to be honest, it really didn't matter

That one of us had misread the map

Especially now there's Shepherd Neame on tap.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 12.7.23

 957

Rutupiae

The beach along the Saxon Shore

          Has drifted as the years have passed

          And Roman walls no longer cast

Their shadows where the tidal bore

Once carried Claudius, who claimed

          The conquest of another race,

          One more triumphal arch in place

Over the butchered and the maimed.

But looking at this tourist site

          The tidy walls, the well-clipped hedge

          It's hard to sense the cutting edge

Which decimated Britiain's right

To claim this island and its coast

          - now basking in the morning light -

          As we set off towards the sight

Of Augustine's inflated boast

That he brought Christianity

          To pacify the British tribes

          Who, left alone, would have survived

To find their way to amity.

Dr Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 7.7.23

 956

Saxon Shore Way 1

The maps are checked; the rooms booked for the night;

The route is clear; the weather whould be bright;

Emails arrive confirming all is well,

And we are ready - as far as we can tell.

And yet, I need to quieten the tide

Of thoughts that could so easily collide

With all I hope these walking hours might be-

A chance to concentrate and maybe see

Beyond the working problems and the net

Of memories, which I could shed, and yet

Which cling as if my life might not exist

Without their presence lurking in the mist.

          Will the Saxon Shore's elusive mystery

          Be enough to turn this tide for me?

Brian Hick summer 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 5.7.23

 947

A Sussex Rambler

Seen above Ditchling Beacon

Just bimbling about.

Brian Hick May 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 14.6.23

 918

Long Walks

It seems we're getting older as the walks

We're planning shorten as the years go by;

The South Downs Way of ninety-three out stripped

All subsequent endeavours by some miles:

But all have had their moments and some days

Enchanted us despite the shortened length.

Perhaps we're now concerned with quality,

With panoramas rather than the strength

Of thighs or ability to out-pace

The others? Many friends no longer can

Come with us, in the wake of bodies which

Are giving out.  How sad; the mind of man

          Longs to stride forward past the point

          Where brain decamps and knees are out of joint.

Brian Hick April 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 3.4.23

 900 

Dover to Canterbury (day two)

A little coaxing from our host

And we are into fruit and toast

Before we sigh and gird

Ourselves for the scrambled eggs and bacon,

Tomatoes and fried bread; all taken

Without dissenting word.

The morning leads through Sibbortswold -

With topiary curious to behold

By the Oak Bakery wall -

Then open fields and open skies

Dry out our boots and clear our eyes

To face the pilgrims' call.

We canter over Barham Downs

But our pilgrim thoughts are drowned

By the constant roar

Of traffic at its noontide peak

And crows are seen with open beak

But we can't hear them caw.

Entering The Red Lion for lunch

We stand out like a surly bunch

Of peddlers on the make

Compared with all the well-dressed crew

Who've just popped in to meet a few

Friends for old time's sake.

The tympanum at Patrixbourne -

Survivor of  the Tudor storm -

Looks down on aged yews

Whose ancestors have stood here since

The Romans came, or Saxon Prince

Stood one among the few.

And so to Canterbury we came

A little tired but all the same

Ready for a cream tea

Then in the silence of the Quire

Give thanks for friendship and the fire

Which burns in you and me.

And were there Larks upon our way?

I saw none, but it's true to say

That sometimes far above

I sensed a call from out the sky,

The rapture of a simple cry

Of undemanding love.

Brian Hick February 2011

©copyright Sally Hick 20.2.23

 900

Dover to Canterbury (day one)

Four of us, and a two day walk

To Canterbury with time to talk

And sup the local beers.

So to Dover on the Ashford train

And, after endless days of rain,

The sun once more appears.

Across the marsh, slight signs of spring

Hide in the hedges, and on the rim

A heron's silent whiteness

Lifts lazily into flight,

A spirit from the passing night

Caught in the morning's brightness.

Up, up onto the Downs

Until the midday sunlight crowns

The tumuli and gilds

Each tree with February's charm.

A raven calls across the calm

Deep furrowed fields

Where rabbits amble unaware

Of fox or hunter, or the care

We're taking as we go

For no one told us of the mud,

Ankle deep where'er we trod,

Making progress slow;

So what should have been an easy day

Was bogged down almost all the way

Till by glum consent

We took the road to Waldenshare -

An eighteenth-century brick affair -

Then tackled the assent

To Coldred for our B&B -

Bourbon biscuits with our tea -

And the welcome showers,

Before we're taxied to the pub,

The Crown at Eythorne, lovely grub;

Then sleep for hours and hours.