Midhurst memories

So, now I've lived through a hurricane too! But not really: the bulk hit Ireland, and even part of that was not really affected (my friend V who lived through the Columbus Day storm and was on holiday at Londonderry during the worst of it, says, "Meh" to Ophelia.) The main issue was high winds and blowing sand which kept us away from our planned excursion to the beach. And really eerie light. The next day featured more eerie light, this time from a Saharan sandstorm. Who knew it could reach this island? Truly, we are a global society.

But, despite that, everyone has a place. Except me. The oddest part of this adventure is not really having a home. People ask me where I'm from, and I have to pause. Do I pick birthplace? the place where I grew up, where most of my family is? the place where half my stuff is, along with some of my family, some of my money, and most of my friends, where I lived for 30 years? the place where the rest of my stuff is, where my current doctors and mailing address and most of my money are? If home is where the heart is, my heart is scattered to the winds.

I usually pick New Mexico.

My stay in Midhurst was quiet and actually rather busy. I was working on the writing project, tutoring, and taking the dog for long walks twice a day. I was fortunate in that I actually had company for all but one of the walks, because I would have been lost otherwise. My host lives in a development on what used to be Cowdray Estate, home to polo, apparently, and it's right up against West Sussex National Trust land. The paths wind around woodland, and across single-track roads, criss-crossing at random, and there is no way I would have figured it out on my own. And, since there is no single walk, Rosie, the sweet and well-behaved black lab who walked to heel most of the time, was useless as a guide on the one time I conducted a solo walk.

Anyway, E, a German woman who lives with husband and daughter a few houses away, was my daily companion. She was charming and kind, and laughed at my stories. I really enjoyed her, and she also took me out into the country for some variety on the walks. We went to Petworth: the grounds were set out by Capability Brown and included an ornamental water with fake islands, into which we threw balls for the dogs to chase. It also had a huge herd of deer: we found an eminence in the woodland and looked down on them as they grazed, but then the wind shifted and one of the dogs started barking for the ball, and it was time to move off to a place where they could be let back off lead.

We also went to Goodwood Park and climbed a hill overlooking their race track. I think the hill used to be an old hill fort, maybe Roman (Bognor Regis and Chichester are nearby), because a dike surrounded by ditches circled the summit. But these days the summit is marked by a survey stone and two radio towers. Such is the time we live in. We were there, because the tail end of Hurricane Ophelia made us abort our trip to the beach at Wittingten, near Chichester. We went the next day, which was also my last morning at Midhurst, and I found tons of really amazing rocks and flints. The flints were what interested me the most, since we don't have such things on American coasts.

So, much of my time is being spent very pleasantly, but not as a tourist. There are loads of places to visit everywhere I go, and I don't do most of them. Part of it is expense and lack of transportation, but most of it is that I have other things to do: take care of dogs, work, read, do laundry. And that routine contents me.