28th January In Your Eyes Peter
Gabriel
Early in the morning I reached Battle, north of Hastings. It had been a battle too. Yesterday's trials with a broken gear box had ended with a comfortable settee and a fascinating evening with a lovely couple. The kindness of strangers was to be a constant feature of the year. People I had never met before invited me in for a drink, a meal, sometimes even a bed! They asked for nothing except my company, which I gladly gave. Wonderful, kind people.
Breakfast by Kate was a geometric delight! Soon to be on my way again, I bade farewell to my saviours and with my thanks echoing down the road, I set off for the real site of the Battle of Hastings, the town of Battle not Hastings.
The road to the historic battle site had a garage so I called in and amazingly it did cycle repairs too! My guardian angels were looking after me. A quick taking apart and putting back together of the gear changing system and all was right again with the bike and the world.
On reaching the town of Battle, I found the entrance of the English Heritage Visitor's Centre and exited to explore the battlefield itself.
I had been here back in 1990, with Diane of
course, for a re-enactment with a cast of thousands. On that day thousands
formed a rectangular crowd, cordoned off they and I watched as the might of
Normandy charged uphill towards the Saxon swards. Thousands of thankfully
blunted arrows rained down on the Norman heads as a loudspeaker told of the
progress made.
The biggest show of interest by the crowd was
when an ambulance came through to take a fallen cavalry soldier away. He,
having fallen from his horse during the charge, had a broken leg.
Around the Abbey I went and onto a terrace overlooking the fields; detailed explanation boards with colour artist impressions told of the battle. Most interesting and being lazy I photographed them instead of taking copious notes. Birds were here too, as they are everywhere, Fieldfares and Redwings mostly.
Now silly photographs, either
when with people are around or, as in this case, when I am alone, can be fun.
So, when I came across the place where poor King Harold received his eye
watering shock, I lay down, placed a stick next to my eye, lolled my tongue out
and took a selfie!
My afternoon was spent cycling
towards Royal Tunbridge Wells with drizzly sleet and a darkening sky. The road
was extremely busy, scary even and I want to thank all car drivers for not hitting me!
26.05
miles 1558 feet elevation up 1419 feet down
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