In 2019 Val and I went on holiday to Cyprus (twice), on a cruise in Norway, on short breaks to Norwich and Folkestone, and we also went on our now traditional weekend to Center Parcs. Val went away to Tenerife with our younger daughter in January this year, but we had made no holiday plans for the rest of 2020 before coronavirus came along.
 |
Bergen, where we started our Norwegian cruise in 2019 |
As lockdown started to ease, Val started hankering after
going away somewhere, preferably somewhere hot, although by the start of August
it was hot enough at home that that didn’t mean going abroad, even if anyone who has ever spent a summer in this country knows only too well,
reliability and consistency are not the hallmarks of an English summer.
Having a holiday abroad this year is by no means impossible,
but frankly it doesn’t seem worth the hassle at present, what with restrictions
at airports and resorts, and possible quarantine requirements on returning home
that might even be imposed while you are away. The staycation (or ‘holiday’ as
I like to call it) has become the fashion this summer, heck even Prime Minister
Boris Johnson has gone to Scotland – conveniently missing out on the fall-out
from the ‘A’ level debacle – and so last week we booked a short break in
Eastbourne.
I last went on holiday to Eastbourne when I was 15 and still
at school, with my parents. We stayed in a guest house – sadly I can’t remember
the name, otherwise I would have looked it up when Val and I were in town. What
I do remember is that almost without exception, it was misty in the mornings I
spent in Eastbourne in 1973, although generally it turned out fine by lunch
time. This year the weather at home had been scorching in the days before we
went – up to 33˚C – but the forecast was not promising, with every day of
our four day stay predicting rain, rain, heavy rain, and thunderstorms.
For our Eastbourne excursion, we booked an apartment on the
seafront. Choosing accommodation in the time of a pandemic is interesting, one’s
criteria are slightly different from normal. The apartments we booked –
Beachside – declares itself compliant with all of the current Covid-19
guidelines, and their website confidently lists all of the precautions they are
taking, together with a risk assessment. No doubt other hotels and guesthouses
are doing the same. The proof of the pudding however…
As it turned out, we were reassured when we arrived at
Beachside as the owners – John and Emma – have clearly been extremely thorough
in their preparations. The apartment was immaculate – I don’t think I’ve ever
stayed anywhere so obviously and meticulously cleaned. The bathroom looked as
though it had only been installed that morning, even though it was eight years
old.
Having somewhere so obviously well prepared put our minds at
rest and made our stay completely relaxing. The apartment – which was on the
ground floor and at the back of the property – lacked a sea view (something
which Val is normally very keen on – it’s been known to heavily influence where
we have stayed in the past), but since this time we had decided that a ground
floor room was a priority, it mattered less.
The room could best be described as compact, but it had
everything necessary. A small kitchen area with a hob, microwave oven, and
toaster; a living/sleeping area with a huge bed, settee, dining table and TV,
plus a wardrobe that had been sourced from a local antique shop and reminded me
very much of my childhood, with matching bedside cabinets. And, of course the
immaculate bathroom (shower room really, as there was no tub).
Would I recommend Beachside for a short break? Without
hesitation. Would I recommend Eastbourne for a holiday? Yes. I’d not been there
other than on a day trip since that holiday with my parents in the 1970s, and
the resort has a sort of God’s Waiting Room reputation (there’s a joke that
half the population are over 65 and the other half are poodles), but it seemed
more lively than I had expected. And, if some of the regional accents and
football shirts on display were anything to go by, holiday makers from various
far-flung parts of the country had decided that it was a good place to visit.
Many of England’s seaside towns are in decline, and have
been for a number of years. Eastbourne hasn’t avoided the effects and there are
a number of empty and boarded up shops including a long since defunct TJ
Hughes, and a more recently closed branch of Debenhams. There is however, a
fairly vibrant main street, and a bright shopping centre – The Beacon – with many
popular retailers represented. Eastbourne is not a seaside resort teeming with
amusement arcades, and sadly the pier is closed at present, but the front is
thronged with hotels and guesthouses, and there are plenty of places selling
food and drink along the promenade. Compared with some resorts – Folkestone,
for example, where Val and I spent a few days last year and which looks very
down at heel – Eastbourne seems to be thriving, although according to a report
on local TV news, visitor numbers have been down this year. That didn’t seem to
be the case when we were there; steady rather than packed I’d say, and more
people in the pubs and restaurants than I might have expected.
Since lockdown began, the number of miles that Val and I
have walked has fallen dramatically. Before lockdown I was averaging 5.03 miles
a day. Since March this year, that average had fallen to 4.93 miles, and my
average during lockdown was even lower at 4.08. Our four days in Eastbourne pushed
the average up slightly. We started with a trip to Birling Gap on Friday, and
we walked 11.86 miles that day. On Saturday we did 14.07, dipped below ten to
9.19 miles on Sunday (the only day we had rain), but pushed the average up to
11.73 miles for the four days by completing 11.80 miles on Monday.
Monday was the hardest day. We walked from Eastbourne to
Beachy Head; not a particularly long way in itself (from Eastbourne Pier it is only
3.5 miles), but there are two routes to walk there, one is fairly gentle (which
was the way we came back), one is not so easy. There is one path we took that
has such a steep gradient that looking back is vertigo inducing. I really
thought at one point that I would not make it to the top, my thighs and calves
were on fire.
Holidays in England have always suffered in comparison with
trips to Spain, or Cyprus, or more distant locations due to the vagaries of
domestic weather: A common factor in holidays I took as a child in this country
was arriving somewhere that had allegedly not seen a cloud in the sky for
months, and then having to spend a week dodging the rain, until the day we
travelled home, which inevitably would be hot and sunny.
That comparison hasn’t changed, but this summer we have been
fortunate in having generally good weather, a blessing in the circumstances: a
cold, damp English summer would have restricted what people could do, although
with the numbers thronging the beaches at Bournemouth and Brighton, potentially
spreading the virus, perhaps that was a mixed blessing.
I am as happy to go on holiday in this country as I am to go
abroad – happier, probably what with not having to negotiate airports – so long
as the weather is reasonable, which is not something that England can
guarantee; if it were I probably wouldn’t bother going abroad again.
