A sad weekend in the hatler household.
We spent yesterday emptying our country bolt-hole, the caravan at Blackberry Wood.
Things move on and the owners need Streat Corner to be more productive.
Twenty years ago, all seven vans in the field were privately owned and paid an annual ground rent.
Then friends bought the site and we ended up as one of three 'liveaboards', all great mates, amongst the commercial rental units (a Routemaster bus, a Westland Wessex helicopter, a fire engine, a gypsy caravan).
The children of the four families have all grown up there together, learnt to ride, learnt to build bonfires, climbed up Ditchling Beacon countless times, got muddy in the stream, learnt to whittle sticks, handle penknives and as a group we have sat down to countless barbecues, around countless roaring bonfires.
Many here will have benefited from our glorious tenure at BW as it was from here the vats of coffee were prepared and supplied for the broken greenhouses stop (or the carpark at the very bottom of the hill) of the Friday Night Rides to Brighton just prior to the Beacon.
For us, a perfect (and typical) weekend would be arrival on Friday evening, joining the Fridays in Ditchling at 6am on the Saturday, over the hill to Brighton and train back to Hassocks. Spend the rest of the day mooching and preparing for the evening barbecue feast. Sunday, up early to bounce around on the South Downs and maybe a pub lunch, then head back to the van and fettle everyone's bikes in the warm afternoon glow with lashings of tea, great company and endless chat. Then, reluctantly, pack up, and head back to The Smoke.
Alas, no more.
