Huts

We're back from the "deep south". Rye is a lovely little town. Once a virtual island above the salt marshes of east Sussex, it retains much of its old character with cobbled streets, independent businesses, a little castle, a commanding old church and a mish-mesh of quaint little houses and alleyways. As one of England's ancient "cinque ports", its history stretches wayback. On the edge of "the salts", our small apartment overlooked the River Brede. We watched tides coming in and out and the comings and goings of seabirds, waders, ducks and ravens. Beyond were the flat plains of Walland and Romney marshes. You could see for miles.One day we visited Dungeness for the first time. This is a vast area of shifting shingle and pebbles. It has had several lighthouses for in past times many ships were wrecked on this unforgiving coastline. Mention Dungeness and many people would immediately think of the huge nuclear power station that was erected there in the sixties but for me my lasting memory will be of incongruous fishermen's huts, wrecks and debris amidst the pebbles, the dunegrass and the sea cabbages. Fortunately we visited on an afternoon when the light was a clear as crystal...

Above: Derek Jarman's Prospect Cottage