Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

I picked up an old guide book from a charity shop yesterday. It was aimed at people visiting Worthing in the late 1930s, although there are a few pages about Arundel. Fascinating stuff. (Well, to me, anyway). Let me share a few words.

“Except during the holiday season, the current of life in the town flows as placidly as the neighbouring river. The industries, of which the chief are brewing, timber work and printing, cause no stir, and even the bustle and commotion of the market-place are as much things of the past as are the comings and goings of knights and men-at-arms. It is fitting that Arundel should have an appearance of association with the past, for it really is an ancient place”.

Fast-forward 70 years and there’s definitely still a ‘holiday season’ when visitors start to arrive. Alas, brewing has pretty much vanished (although the Arundel Brewery, based on the industrial estate at Ford, is doing a good job to keep the tradition going). Gone also is printing (although there's at least one design agency in town – and the post office will do photocopies!)

As for timber, there’s little evidence – you’ll find 'the old sawmill' as part of an address… and there are plenty of trees on the Duke of Norfolk’s estate… but not much else that I can see.

Alas, the watercress beds have gone as well. They’re now part of the Wildfowl & Wetlands Trust, as far as I can see. Shame – I like a bit of watercress.

PS: There’s a 'literary' section in the guide that describes Arundel as being the scene of Tickner Edwardes’s ‘The Honey Star’ and H.C.Bailey’s ‘The Young Lovers’. Never heard of them, in case you wondered. Time for another visit to the charity shop, I think.

Cut the risk of dying!

I'm sure this whole 'eternal life' thing isn't as clear-cut as it looks...

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Ford – just down the road from Arundel – isn't very big. A pub, a church, a station and some industrial units. Oh, and the prison. At the railway station there's a brass plaque in memory of Frank 'Ford' Rowe. I didn't know Ford Rowe. But I know he made a difference. I know that local people liked him. That's pretty much what we'd all want from life, isn't it? Making the world a better place for other people?

My mum was brought up in a little village not very far from here. One of the residents had a child. The boy was called... actually, it doesn't really matter, because he was usually known by his nickname. As a toddler, he'd take his clothes off and would wander outside his garden in the street. Therefore his nickname was... hmmm... if it's all the same with you, I don't think I'll tell. You see, he was known by this nakedness-related name all the time he lived in the village - well into adulthood.

And those are the two sides of "country life" - a.k.a. community - that attract and terrify many of us. May we all make a positive difference... and not acquire comical nicknames!

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

"Would you like a lift?"
The guy in the blue Fiat stopped alongside me and wound down his window.
"Thank you but no - I'm heading for the station and I've left plenty of time."
A friendly wave and he'd gone.

That tends not to happen in big towns, does it? Certainly not when you're an I-can't-believe-I'm-in-my-40s bloke striding manfully down a fairly busy road. (Some of that last sentence exists only in my imagination!)

If I was to get all philosophical - and I probably am - I'd say that's what the oft-sought mystery of 'community' is all about. Not the helping part... but understanding. Empathy. Offering a lift in the knowledge it'll save me from walking down Ford Road and playing 'chicken' with the oncoming traffic. Not gossiping from behind your net curtains but being there to help if you're asked. Okay, philosophical moment over.

Incidentally, it wasn't my mother's warning about talking to strangers that made me decline the lift. Neither was it a similar message from Charley the talking cat. No, it was simply the fact that waiting at Ford station would have been boring and cold... and I'd just enjoyed a decent-sized cheese sandwich for lunch. I reckon I needed the exercise.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

I’ve had a busy few days of work recently, so there’s not been much time for blogging. I'm still car-free, by the way - spending my 'petrol money' on public transport and cake. I reckon I'm just about breaking even.

The real loss for me isn't money or even door-to-door convenience - it's time. My 40-minute drive to see my girlfriend becomes an adventure holiday lasting two-and-a-half hours. Exposure to extreme cold whilst waiting for a delayed train? Best pack my thermal gloves. Standing immobile in the carriage when it arrives? Must remember my DVT exercises. Making the connection after my train's been delayed? Time for my all-terrain running shoes.

Okay, so I'm exaggerating... a bit. But I'm rather hoping to find a car before too long - and before I get desperate enough to choose something impractical (again). At least there's no danger of me buying a £300-a-year CO2-spitting monster from the chancellor's budget blacklist!

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Here is today's bakery update.

The bakery is definitely under new management, although it’s reassuring to see the same staff working behind the counter. Well, they’re working behind the counter now – there wasn’t really a counter in the old shop.

The new shop seems to be positioning itself as a ‘specialist’, using locally-produced flour and cooking some unusual breads. It’s probably the only way that independent retailers can make much money in towns such as Arundel.

Anyway, this morning’s chocolate brownie set me back £1.50… and was big enough for two. I did it the honour of dividing it in half and enjoying it with two cups of coffee.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

The mystery of Arundel’s disappearing bakery continues. As you’ll probably recall, we have fresh bread available locally – not only does the grocer sell bread from the relatively nearby Slindon Bakery but there’s also a branch of the Three Cooks chain in town.

Yet “Bread Alone” had something of an edge, because it seemed to be run by what I can best describe as ‘talented enthusiasts’. Which is why its closure earlier this year was both disappointing and puzzling.

On Saturday the former “Bread Alone” premises suddenly and quietly re-opened as the “East West Bakery”. Unfortunately I was hurrying home to put my freshly-purchased eel steak (from the Farmers’ Market) in the fridge, otherwise I’d have stopped to learn more.

There’ll be an update (and a cake purchase) before long, don’t you worry!

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

I was recently emailed by a friend who’d found my blog here. I’ve edited a few names and other personal stuff out, but the brief online rant is reproduced pretty much word-for-word.

I think it'll strike a chord with an awful lot of people!


-----Original Message-----
To: Del Arun
Subject: RE: Blogs

I made the mistake of reading someone else’s blog and got so irritated I've had to stop.

Why is it everyone wants the country 'lifestyle' but no-one wants the country 'life' and why do I get so annoyed by it?


-----Original Message-----
From: Del Arun
Subject: RE: Blogs

Why? A combination of rose-tinted glasses and mistaking "lifestyle" for "reality", I think. People buy a Cath Kidston Nokia and think they're Mrs Beeton. Everyone wants the good bits and no-one wants the bad bits.

My girlfriend said she got thoroughly fed up with badgers digging up anything she planted in the garden when she lived in a rural setting. The neighbouring farmer sprayed silage on his fields - and on everyone's car as he drove his tractor to the fields. There were good bits, of course, but it wasn't all Pop Larkin and Catherine Zeta-Jones.


-----Original Message-----
To: Del Arun
Subject: RE: Blogs

Exactly,

Living in the country (though I only know the city version of the country in truth) is about crap wages and crappy jobs. It's about not being able to open your windows in the summer because of cropping, it's about doing dangerous things like 'tar barrels' (look it up on the internet, it's in Ottery St Mary and tis v. exciting) and not going all 'compo' on it. It's about shutting gates in fields, not letting your dogs run freely near sheep and not throwing litter (don't know where that bit came from, it is my most hated though, 'the word 'lifestyle' is second) and if you don't like all that you shouldn't be there!

What's wrong with moving to a place and embracing it? People complain when people from other countries come over here and create their own community and won't accept Britain’s culture; where's the difference?

Hrrrmpph!

I think I'm jealous too because I wish I was back there, and I'm grumpy anyway pah!

-----Message Ends-----

So there you are. These are not necessarily the views of the management - but, then again...

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

The voice in my head says “hold on a moment, the back window isn’t closed”. It’s closed.

“Perhaps it’s the back door”. Also closed.

“The back window?” Definitely closed.

No, the road noise I’m hearing is literally just that. Hardly surprising, really, when I’m driving a car that costs less than the optional extras on an executive saloon. Welcome to the Citroen C1.

I fancied trying one of these for three reasons. Firstly, they’re economical. Over 60mpg on a good day. That’s good for my wallet, given that my girlfriend lives 30 miles away. It’s also considerably better for the environment than my previous car. Mind you, my previous car left its parking space looking like it had been visited by the Torrey Canyon. Not that it was a bad car – far from it. I liked to think of it as the automotive equivalent of Amy Winehouse. You can draw your own conclusions.

But back to the C1. Reason number 2: it’s small. Parking is at a premium here in Arundel, especially as summer gets closer. And reason 3? It looks cute. As a bonus, it ought to still be in demand in a couple of years if I want to sell it.

Anyway, the road noise was forgotten by the time I’d left Worthing town centre and was on the A27 dual carriageway. This was fun. I’d expected to need a calendar to check the acceleration, but we shot away from the traffic lights in a manner that I felt to be fairly impressive. I’m not sure that the tractor driver had expected me to pull away so quickly. We headed over the South Downs into Steyning and then back towards Shoreham. Oh. It’s a bright, sunny day and the black dashboard is reflecting onto the windscreen. It’s rather like driving through mist. It probably won’t be so bad with a layer of dust on it… or when some of the polish has worn off.

Back on the dual carriageway and we accelerate up to the 70mph limit with relative ease. The first 50mph was easy – it’s the next bit that seemed to take slightly longer. We’re back at the Citroen dealer before too long.

Now it’s time to talk money. I’m still interested. I’ve been checking prices online and know what they’re going for. Of course, I’d have to wait a month or two for delivery – and the dealer has one in stock. He takes me out to it. It’s metallic blue, just like the courtesy car I’d driven. I remark that I’m pleasantly surprised I can fit inside such a small car – I’m just over 6 foot tall - although I didn’t also have any problems with the ‘old’ mini when I had one back in the mid 80s. In fact, I suggest, the two cars are pretty similar in many ways. Yes, the salesman agrees. In fact, he drives an old mini.

Hmmm. Perhaps I should, too.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Good news! My house isn’t going to flood, despite my living near the river. I’ve just checked on the Environment Agency’s web site after reading a BBC news story (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/6448525.stm) about the 1947 floods. The secret of my safety is living uphill from the river rather than on the flood plain. That, I’m sure, is one of the reasons my house was built here in the first place.

But I digress. Today is an exciting day for me. I’m test-driving a new car. I’ll let you know how it all goes. It’ll be the first time I’ve seriously considered buying something genuinely ‘new’ since 1985, when I was the proud owner of a Ford Escort 1.1. Proud for a couple of weeks before the creaking and rattling started to annoy me. C815PCD, where are you now?

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

I went out for a wander this afternoon, about an hour before sunset. No real reason, just enjoying the weather and experiencing something that approximated for exercise. I headed for Arundel Park – part of the Duke of Norfolk’s estate, although open to mortals – and was accosted by a couple of pheasants.

Okay, I’m exaggerating. It was more of a puzzled look, followed by an oh-my-god-it's-a-person scurry into the undergrowth. (The bird, not me). They’re not particularly bright, are they? I remember driving through Winchester when one ran off the verge in front of my car and then stood in the middle of the road as cars passed by either side. It remained standing there until I stopped, reversed back and shooed it away.

Yes, I’m a bit soft when it comes to animals. (I blame a childhood that involved Johnny Morris presenting Animal Magic on TV every week). But that doesn’t stop me from eating them, in case you wondered. What puzzles me, though, is why the poor pheasant became a target (no pun intended) for sport. As has been pointed out before, it’s not the smartest animal, it seems to be poorly camouflaged and it doesn’t fly awfully well. I mean, fishing can be a bit of a challenge, from what I understand. But shooting pheasants? You might as well have someone in the back of a Land Rover with a giant butterfly net. Hmmm. Actually... Anyone interested?

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

There have been a couple of times that I’ve almost given up blogging on Country Living. Not because of the subject, just because of the technology. Incidentally, I’m no technophobe – quite the opposite, because it’s a big part of my job – which is probably why I don’t have much patience when the Country Living blog service decides I’m not able to comment on anyone else’s entries. Or when it takes so long to load, I’m able to make myself a cup of tea, drink it and make another one before the right page appears.

It reminds me of the bakery we had in Arundel until recently. The bread was made and baked locally, so I – and, as far as I could tell, most of the town – didn’t mind paying a bit over the odds for it. Then one day, inexplicably, the bakers stopped selling individual cakes. No more Belgian buns. No more bath buns, no more rock cakes, no more Eccles cakes. My dentist probably threw a party, but that’s another story. They still sold bread – but no cakes. Now, I have no idea why it happened… but I can imagine someone thinking it wasn’t worth the effort because the bulk of their profit came from sandwiches and bread. Perhaps it did. But a few weeks later the shop closed. Was it because people thought it wasn’t a proper bakers any more?

I don’t know. But I do know that the “littlest things” (to quote Lily Allen) can make a big difference. Incidentally, there’s still ‘local’ bread available in town – a baker in one of the surrounding villages supplies a few loaves to the grocer’s shop. So that’s alright.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

On Monday night I was out at a gig in Brighton. (Woo-hoo – look at me getting down with the kids. Or is it up with the kids? In with the kids? Out with the kids? It’s not kids at all, is it?)

Yes, I was the old(ish) bloke at the back. But that’s not the point, so I’d rather you didn’t mention it. It was a benefit concert for the North Laine Community Association. Brighton’s North Laine area (as opposed to “The Lanes”, which are completely different) is – and please forgive the clichés – an eclectic mix of independent retailers. Lots of odd little shops. Fashion, food, cards, kites, furniture, music… it’s great fun.

Most importantly, the local traders and residents have realised that it’s only great fun because of the mix. The gig (and an associated album) are raising funds and awareness about the NLCA and its work to preserve the (cliché alert!) character of the local area.

And so – as Carrie Bradshaw always used to say – I got to thinking. It seems a shame that Brighton can muster this kind of support yet smaller towns and villages can’t… even though their diversity isn’t just ‘cute’ but is an essential part of them being practical places to live.

I don’t have any answers, really. But I do have a copy of the North Laine Benefit Album.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

You've had the excitement of my Friday night train trip - but that's only half the story. For the purpose of journalistic research, I decided to catch the bus all the way home. Okay, that's not quite true. It looked like rain and the bus stop is much closer to my home than the railway station.

I was at the bus stop for 7.55am, which is when it leaves the previous timed stop. It's there 10 minutes later, so no complaints. Traffic's heavy but I'm doing my best not to let it bother me. After all, I can work on the bus. Well, I can work a bit. It's hardly a mobile office, is it?

By the time we're approaching Brighton it's raining a little. I'm pleased that I won't be walking home from the station in the rain. We're on time, which means there's half an hour to buy a coffee at Churchill Square before the bus to Arundel arrives. Besides, I need some change for the bus. The ticket costs £3.60, making the total journey a bargain £6.40. It's only £8.39 if you factor in the coffee and muffin. I'm still wondering why there are people who regularly want to travel from Brighton to Arundel at 9.45am but I'm not going to start asking.

11.08am and I thought we were supposed to be in Arundel by now. Instead we're parked on a housing estate in East Preston while the driver has a quick cigarette. A miscalculation on my part - I'd misread the timetable online. It’s a 2¼ hour trip from Brighton, which gets me home for noon. That’s over four hours to travel 30 miles at a cost of 21p per mile. From an environmental point of view, much better than driving. From a financial viewpoint, about the same as a car that does 18.5 miles per gallon. And as for time management… let’s not think about that. Okay, so I’m still smiling… but I’m also going to pick up a copy of Auto Trader.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

This was my first weekend in Sussex without a car, having sold mine last Saturday and not replaced it. Fortunately, as I live in a town and not a tiny village, I was able to rely on public transport to take me to see my girlfriend.

One of the good things about having owned a relatively thirsty car - it may not have been a petrol guzzler but it certainly enjoyed generous swigs - is that I'd already started trusting the train to get me to around on occasions. Arundel has its own railway station (thanks, I'm told, to a previous Duke of Norfolk selling the land on the condition that every London train stopped there). Unfortunately Arundel isn't on the Brighton line... and I wanted a Brighton train.

So I had two choices. Walk to Arundel station, catch the train to nearby Ford and wait 30 minutes for a connection - or walk to Ford, which would take around 40 minutes. It wasn't raining, so I took the Ford option. I left home just before 3.30pm and was in Brighton for 4.40pm. Next came the train to Lewes, which got me there with time to walk into town and buy a coffee before the bus arrived. Finally, a brief walk in the rain and I'm with my girlfriend just after 6pm. Two-and-a-half hours to travel 30 miles. That would have been a disappointing result if I'd been cycling, although it seemed okay – and quite an adventure – at the time!

The good news is that I didn't get the opportunity to buy a train ticket. Ford's unmanned in the afternoon, there wasn't anyone at the exit in Lewes and no-one checked on the train. I saved £7.50, with the bus costing just £1.50. Excellent value, this public transport. So I treated myself to a bottle of wine with the money I'd saved.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

Ooh – I almost forgot. The follow-up to Tuesday’s "TV aerial plug" story is that I popped down to the hardware shop yesterday.

"Morning, sir – is this what you were after?"

It certainly was. "That’ll be 90p, please. Would you like a bag?"

A bag? There’s little enough profit margin on a 90p plug – even if the shopkeeper had taken it off his own TV aerial (which he clearly hadn't!) Here’s one place where customer service definitely hasn’t been outsourced.

Country Living: Our Man in Arundel

“So, are you going to buy another car?” asked mum. I was surprised. Of course I’m going to buy another car. I’m just making my mind up at the moment.

In the grand scheme of things, I’m a lucky chap. I work from home most of the time, which means I don’t need to battle with commuters. I live on my own, which means I can work whenever I want. And I work on my own, which means I don’t fritter the day away talking about that annoying sales rep.

The downside is… I spend most of my days on my own. I’d probably turn into some kind of eccentric if I did this for the rest of my life. (I don’t plan to – the “rest of my life” part, I mean. I think the “eccentric” part’s already happening).

Why am I mentioning all this? Well, it’s the car, you see. The car I’ve just sold was – er – hmm – how can I put this favourably? It was slightly bigger than it needed to be. That’s “slightly” in the same way that Michael Winner occasionally eats in restaurants and David Beckham makes a bit of money. It didn’t get used much – honest!

But back to mum’s question. Much as I enjoy driving, I’d love to live car-free. If I was a hermit, I wouldn’t need a car. And I’d much rather have the choice of travelling whilst reading or listening to music or dozing or having a beer… except it’s not that simple, is it? Arundel has a railway station and a bus service, but neither is particularly convenient if the place you’re visiting isn’t similarly connected. So I’m looking for a car that’s small (because terraced cottages don’t have much room to park outside), economical (because my girlfriend lives 30 miles away – and I have a soft spot for the planet, too) and (with apologies for the self-indulgence) fun. Meanwhile, I’m relying on public transport… and encouraging my friends & family to visit me!