Sea defences at Deal

Yesterday I went for a walk...

...following the footpath that runs alongside the golf course.  In fact it really looks lovely these days even if the golfers probably don't appreciate the new water hazards.  They don't appreciate walkers either.

We really have been very lucky in this area not to have had more trouble over this winter.  We did have a huge tidal surge in December but the defences in Deal coped relatively well.  They didn't in Sandwich and the lovely Salutation Gardens have had to close after the floods.

 They started our new sea wall way back in 2012.  They did complete it but the beach washed away.  There was too much sand in the shingle.  I told you so.  So they came back in September 2013 to do better.  The job was supposed to be finished before Christmas 2013so seeing the big machines working yesterday made me wonder if they just hadn't finished or if the beach was once more washed away.

This was the first time I saw the dredger actually pumping the sand/shingle mixture towards the beach.

Then it's sieved by the shuddery-juddery sieving machines much to the delight of the nearby residents.

Everyone was so pleased to see better weather for half-term, they were perfectly happy to ignore the machines to play and paddle on the beach.

The sound of shingle

From Conan Doyle's poem:

Her cheek was wet with North Sea spray,
We walked where tide and shingle meet;
The long waves rolled from far away
To purr in ripples at our feet.
And as we walked it seemed to me
That three old friends had met that day,
The old, old sky, the old, old sea,
And love, which is as old as they.

As seen on Britishspeak

In a gale I went to "where tide and shingle meet", a going out sort of tide.  I can see I have a lot to learn on how to use my new phone, and it might have been better to wait for a less windy day (not in the foreseeable future), but I think you'll agree it doesn't "purr in ripples" at my feet.

A view

I've so often shown the view from my own window, out over the sea to France, that I'm becoming bored with it.  So I thought I'd show the view from the place where my parents used to live.  It's a view over the sea again, but across the cliff top.

This is the view my parents used to be able to see from their window when they lived here.  Today the sky was blue and daubed with white clouds.  The sea was daubed with shadows.  If you follow the road on down, or if you're more adventurous you can follow a steep pathway and steps, either way you eventually reach the beach at the foot of the cliffs. 

We went to visit today at low tide.  The bay is nice enough at high tide but much more interesting at low tide when the rocks are exposed.  If you look carefully you can see there has been quite a landslip of chalk onto the beach from the cliffs although most of the cliffs have green daubs of vegetation on them, holding them together.

The rocks themselves looked as though they had been daubed with brown and green paint where the seaweed grew.  I was disappointed to find the pools were fairly empty of interesting sea life.  I wasn't allowed go further out to explore by my son who clearly had memories of his last visit here and his escapades with his brother and cousins.  I heard some hair raising tales today.

A two-in-one post for the Photo Hunts. 

Knitted architecure

These themes seemed to be an impossible mission until I remembered my neighbour, the castle.

Not only is it a good example of the architecture used by the 16th century builders of henry VIII's fortifications, but it also has examples of the method used to strengthen the mortar between the stones, in many cases taken from religious houses destroyed during the dissolution of the monasteries.  The builders used to insert flints into the mortar to make sure the stones were well knitted together.

When you consider that some of the stonework was taken from monasteries, (and you can still see the carvings on them) you could say not only were the stones physically knitted together but in a fairly loose way they are a knitting together of the religious with the secular.

But once I got the bit between my teeth, I realised that the whole town of Deal has various styles of architecture knitted together to make a unique whole, everything from the castles to the modern pier.

This view is taken down one of the streets leading from the seafront, showing 17th and 18th century houses looking towards the 1901 building, Lloyd Court.  This was first a school, then a retirement home, then a convalescent home, and now it's a block of flats.

The beautiful old buildings seem relatively content to look out over the much more modern pier (1957).

 

 

And these days, if you click to see the enlarged picture, the view includes wind turbines on the horizon.

Not only do we enjoy a great range of architecture but the community itself is knitted from many different groups: the locals (and you can't consider yourself local unless you were born here, not even after 30 years), the retired, the weekenders, and the DFLs (the Down-From-Londons).  The last group with their big city ways are looked on with a certain amount of amusement by the locals, but also with tolerance.

A two-in-one post for the Photo Hunts. 

Positive thought Number Two

At least it's pretty.  Taken early this morning, just before it started snowing again.

Sun arise

Sun arise, she come with the dawning,
Sun arise come with the dawning
Spreading all the light all around.

Sun arise come with the dawning
Sun arise, she come every day. 

Sun arise, bring in the morning, 

Sun arise, every, every, every, every, day. 

She drive away the darkness, every day, 

Drive away the darkness, 

Bringing back the warmth to the ground.

Not all that much warmth at that time this morning but it's lovely now and the temperature has reached the dizzy heights of 12 Celsius (53 or so F).

The words are part of a song, Sun Arise, performed by Rolf Harris, co-written with fellow Australian Harry Butler.

I tied to embed this video with great Australian images for those of you who weren't brought up on Rolf Harris but it won't embed so here is the link.

Our little storm (not Sandy)

We had a day of high winds coinciding with a high tide, followed by rain.  It started with blue(ish) skies and an angry sea.

Then the skies darkened though by then the tide was going out.

It didn't have the best effect on our beach - before:

After:

What a difference three weeks makes.  There is a great deal of head scratching and muttering going on.  It may not be Sandy but the beach is no longer sandy, the waves have washed the sand out of the shingle.

Sea mist

At low water and on a very still morning, the pier sometimes makes great reflections in the sea.  It did again today but I was too slow.  There was a slight breeze just sufficient to ripple the sea and to spoil the reflections.  It's not the most attractive pier in the world and needs all the help it can get.

I did see what I took to be a bird diving, but it didn't move at all when the rest of the birds did, so could it be a wreck?  Next low tide I'll have to take a closer look.  We have more than our fair share of wrecks in these waters but I've never noticed this before.

In spite of the sea mists which really haven't lifted for 24 hours, the cliffs still catch what little sunlight there is.  I don't think, even if you click on the picture, you will be able to see a family on the beach and two or three swimmers.  The village on the beach below the cliffs is Kingsdown, a 30-40 minute walk from here.  Pity the pub doesn't serve better food.

Another swimmer here, striding out with determination and what looked like a briefcase under his arm.  Maybe it was a towel.

All this time I could hear engines of ships passing by, but I couldn't see them at all, only this lone yacht making it's way slowly south down the English Channel.  To some real sunshine, I hope.

Steaming seas

The steaming sea and leaden sky soon gave way to steady snow.  This is the seaside.  This is the south of England.  We aren't supposed to have snow. 

The amusement of seeing a boat called Polar Bear covered in snow wore off 11 months ago.  Enough is enough.

Dark

The sea

The moon

And ships that pass in the night

This was intended to be a post for the Photo Hunt, but a surprise family visit intervened.  If you'd like to see what other people did in a timely fashion, visit TNchick's site to find out more.

Life on the ocean wave

Well, no, not quite the ocean wave but I'll be crossing the channel this weekend.  Under it, and not this direction.  In this picture you can see the Isle of Sheppey but I'm headed for France.

The Timeball Tower

A timeball is a device created to signal the time, usually to ships at sea.  It is a large metal or wooden ball which slides up and down a mast normally on the roof of a building. The ball is dropped from the top to the bottom of its mast at a specific time each day, allowing people, sailors in particular, to check the time.

The Timeball Tower in Deal is a four storey building on the seafront.  Until 1831 the tower carried a semaphore mast used by the Coastal Blockade to pass signals along the coast about Smuggling Activity in the area.  Deal was reputed to be a great smuggling town.

Before that, there was a shutter telegraph, built in 1796.  It was at the end of a line of telegraphs, 12 of them, that stretched back to the Admiralty in London.  It closed in 1814
The present timeball was put in place in 1853.  It operated from an electric signal from the Royal Observatory at Greenwich.

At 5 minutes before 1:00 pm, the ball is raised halfway as a warning, then at 3 minutes to the hour it is raised the full way.

At precisely 1:00 pm it drops. It was regarded as the most important signalling device after Greenwich at a time when Deal was an important port with a Navy Yard.

Not only were sailors able to have an accurate time signal, but so too were the people in surrounding areas.  Several churches kept their clocks accurate by observing the Timeball tower by telescope.

When the navy Yard was closed, wardens were appointed to live in the tower to maintain the system.  At one time there was a family with 13 children living there.  By 1927 its days were numbered because of the arrival of accurate radio time-signals (the BBC's pip signals).  It stopped working on 25 February 1927.

I've scanned in a picture I noticed in our local paper showing a detail of a watercolour by Rosemary Hammond.   The foreshore looks very different now, and the few boats left really don't do very much at all apart from allowing themselves to be photographed.

This evening

The day, water, sun, moon, night - I do not have to purchase these things with money. ~ Plautus

PhotoHunt: ripples

Ripples in the river.  I took this on a late December evening.  I was fascinated by the change from the almost ripple-free river, smooth ripples over the weir, followed by turbulent ripples as the water fell to the lower level.

"Here, on the river's verge, I could be busy for months without changing my place, simply leaning a little more to right or left." ~ Paul Cezanne

Ripples in the sea and the sky.  In spite of what this looks like, it was taken mid morning in March of last year.

"I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky" ~ John Masefield

If you'd like to join in and find other other players, visit TNchick's site.

PhotoHunter: Salty

I must go down to the seas again,
for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call
that may not be denied

John Masefield - Sea Fever

Water, water every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water every where,
Nor any drop to drink

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - The Rime of the Ancient Mariner