Whitehawk Hill

Only just over a mile from the Clock Tower and nearly 400 foot above sea level is a remnant of downland which offers an unrivalled viewpoint over the City & Bay of Sussex.  In the near distance can be seen the greenery surrounding the railway cutting that served the Kemptown goods station. Hidden at the north end of the cutting lies one end of the tunnel that emerges alongside the Elm Grove primary school. The south end of the tunnel is used for storage, the Elm Grove end is blocked off. What a waste of a good tunnel! 


Whitehawk HIll  includes a neolithic enclosure which was the first Scheduled Ancient monument in Sussex and is a relic of ancient habitat designated a Local Nature Reserve (LNR) with areas of species-rich chalk grassland supporting colonies of Adonis and Chalkhill Blue butterflies. Yet little is made of the site  by the City. One suspects it is rarely visited and, instead of being cherished and protected as a unique beauty spot  it has been largely ignored; or spoilt with unsympathetic encroachments, by a succession of seemingly uncaring Councils. 


I wonder how many past or present Councillors have ever walked the short distance of the western flank along Whitehawk Hill Road at sunset; or visited the site at all to see how it might be enhanced & preserved.

Trees in Brighton - an earlier opinion.

The recent successful campaign to save the Clyde Road plane trees reminds me that people did not always feel so strongly about urban trees. Here is an extract from "Sunny Brighton" by the Victorian nature writer Richard Jefferies (1848-1887). He lived at 3 Lorna Road for a few years after 1882.  The house bears a commemorative plaque.

"Trees are not wanted in Brighton; it is the peculiar glory of Brighton to be treeless. Trees are the cause of damp, they suck down moisture, and fill a circle round them with humidity. Places full of trees are very trying in spring and autumn even to robust people, much more so to convalescents and delicate persons. Have nothing to do with trees, if Brighton is to retain its value. Glowing light, dry, clear, and clean air, general dryness--these are the qualities that rendered Brighton a sanatorium; light and glow without oppressive moist heat; in winter a clear cold. Most terrible of all to bear is cold when the atmosphere is saturated with water. If any reply that trees have no leaves in winter and so do not condense moisture, I at once deny the conclusion; they have no leaves, but they condense moisture nevertheless. This is effected by the minute twigs, thousands of twigs and little branches, on which the mists condense, and distil in drops. Under a large tree, in winter, there is often a perfect shower, enough to require an umbrella, and it lasts for hours. Eastbourne is a pleasant place, but visit Eastbourne, which is proud of its trees, in October, and feel the damp fallen leaves under your feet, and you would prefer no trees."

His feelings may have been somewhat coloured by his suffering from tuberculosis throughout his life and which accounted for his early death. I am glad that over the intervening 125 years his opinions do not seem to have been extensively followed.

Brief Encounter

One early evening many years ago I was floating in a small wooden canoe a few hundred yards off Brighton beach. It was fairly calm. I suddenly became aware of a disturbance in the water to one side and then to the other. Grey humps were briefly breaking surface 10 or so yards away and I realised I was in the middle of a pod of dolphins. I had just had time to feel a fleeting concern that I might be tipped over when one surfaced close alongside.  As it did so it rolled slightly and a knowing mammalian eye seemed to look straight at me. For barely a second we had eye contact and then it was gone, as were its companions. A moment to treasure.

The Seafront Railings

It is excellent news that the City Council has recognised the importance of the Victorian cast-iron work to the appearance of our world famous sea-front.  They are to devote £0.5M to restoration work with an ongoing maintenance budget of £100,000 per annum. One hopes this will be sufficient for the railings etc. to be treated something like the Forth Bridge and that this will ensure their long-term preservation. There must be some reservations as to whether £0.5M will be sufficient, especially if it is to cover the Madeira terraces, but at least it is a start and makes an encouraging change from past neglect.

However in the past few years some work has been done. At the Carousel steps entirely new railings have been installed with the proportions neatly adapted to bring them to regulation height.




Elsewhere long stretches are too low, probably due to raising of the pavement and will also need complete replacement.
  I hope the work includes the iron ornamentation on the West St. kiosk which looks to be in an advanced state of corrosion.

In Victorian times cast-iron was cheap, sturdy, and available locally from the several foundries in the North Laine. The seafront work must have provided livelihoods for many of Brighton's Victorian workers.

Boots at the Clock Tower

Today, wanting to get a better view of the complicated hard-landscaping going on at the Clock Tower, I wandered on to the upper floor of Boots and over to the window overlooking Queens Road. The view from here didn't leave me much the wiser regarding the worksite but, what did strike me, as always, was the complete absence of any of the signs of normal retail activity around me.  Certainly no customers with the gleam of acquisition in their eyes casting around for the paypoint, but also no browsers, no staff.  And this in an area devoted to kid's stuff during a half-term holiday in what must be the most valuable square-footage of retail space on the south coast! How can Boots afford it?

Up until about 10 years ago, on the same floor, but over on the North Street side, there was a very popular self-service restaurant. The staff were friendly, the seating area was comfortable, with views down North Street, and the food was adequate. To reach the restaurant customers had to wend their way through shelves loaded with what I believe are termed 'fancy goods'; items like candles, fancy picture frames and mass-produced little ornaments. Even then I remember wondering at what could be the turnover and profit margin for this stuff that would justify it occupying such valuable space.

Then the suits at Head Office must have got together and decided that the coming thing  was the provision of such fringe medical procedures as laser-eye correction, chiropracty, maybe botox and chiropody; I can't remember exactly.  The restaurant was swept away and in place of the lively chatter of coffee-drinkers, the clatter of cutlery and the hiss of urns, came silence, and a forbidding clinic reception area staffed by a perfectly made-up receptionist, also in white, who never appeared to have enough to do. The contrast was staggering!

It obviously wasn't a success. In September 2004 this also was swept away and, to this date, nothing has replaced it. Behind the white hoarding lies the remains of a kitchen and at least the same area again of unproductive space*.

I still miss the restaurant but otherwise am a disinterested observer.  If I was a Boots shareholder however I would be asking some very pointed questions about this situation which has persisted for at least 10 years

*Hasty footnote. Since posting I have heard that there may be a Doctor's Surgery behind the hoarding. So perhaps Boots are getting some rent. It still seems a strange use of potentially valuable retail space.