If you play games, have you heard of Split Fiction? Cyberson explained it to me and we watched a video clip – half my family love playing it. The story premise must have been thought up by an Indie author. Two writers have been invited along to a publishing house to get their first book published. But the plan is to put each writer in a bubble and steal their ideas. Something goes wrong and two writers end up in the same bubble and find themselves in each other’s novels… so far so interesting, but I lost the plot when they turned into sausages!? Tell us if you have actually played.
No holiday is complete without steps, not the steps your Fitbit counts, real steps you climb to reach a destination, a view you would otherwise never see.
Visitors to Paris head for Le Tour Eiffel, as those of us doing Duolingo like to call it. Why do we give it an English name when we call other famous Paris locations by their proper French names? Anyway, last century found us in Paris with the children and arriving at Le Tour Eiffel we noticed one ’leg’ had no queue, this was where to climb the stairs. Alas one can only take steps to the first and second floor, the public are not allowed on the final flight for safety reasons and take a lift. Still, we climbed up 674 steps and felt we deserved the view of Paris spread before us, so different from London, white buildings laid out geometrically.
We have also been up the Blackpool Tower, half the height of Eiffel, but it does have a famous ballroom, where countless steps have graced the floor.
Sometimes steps are the reason for the holiday. We were watching a programme about Whitby, on the Yorkshire coast, or perhaps it was a programme about Dracula. We instantly decided Whitby would be our next holiday destination so we could walk up the 199 steps. There have been steps here since at least 1340 when Pilgrims would climb wooden steps to Whitby Abbey.
In 1774 they were replaced by stone. Nowadays they are famous for their appearance in the real Dracula story by Bram Stoker. Dracula’s ship, with the crew all dead, was wrecked at the foot of the cliffs and Dracula, in the form of a black dog, runs up the steps to the graveyard of Saint Mary’s church.
As well as the church you will find the ruins of Whitby Abbey, an iconic sight whether you are down in the town or out at sea. It is worth the saunter up the steps to look down on the harbour, river and town. Whitby turned out to be a good place for a holiday with beaches, the quaint old town and plenty of Dracula souvenirs. We have been there several times and up and down the steps numerous times.
There are plenty of other places to visit with opportunities to climb winding narrow steps. Take your choice from castles, cathedrals and lighthouses.
Lincoln is a great city to visit with the added bonus of the iconic narrow street called Steep Hill which you climb to visit the cathedral as the pilgrims did long ago. They did not have the lovely shops, cafes and bars to visit along the way. Conveniently close to the beautiful cathedral is the castle. Climb the steps to walk all round the castle walls.
Durham Cathedral can be seen for miles around and is one of the wonderful views from the East Coast mainline.
When we went there ten years ago a small door led to one of the two western towers, climb up this tower, then walk across to the central tower. This long gallery was where the defibrillator was kept, which hopefully you would not need if you had read the dire warnings about not climbing if you have a heart condition. The lovely views were well worth the climb.
The fun with lighthouses is the design that makes the winding stairs narrower and narrower as you ascend. Portland Bill lighthouse stands at the rugged tip of the Isle of Portland, Dorset and its red and white bands make it a popular subject for photographers. You can have a guided tour to take the 155 steps to the lantern room.
In contrast, the old black Dungeness lighthouse suits the bleak landscape of vast stretches of shingle, home to nuclear power stations. When we climbed on two occasions I did not step outside onto the narrow balcony; opening the narrow door the wind nearly ripped it off its hinges.
For a modern experience we visited Swaffham in Norfolk. We went there some years ago and looking it up brought back happy memories, but when I reached the end of the article a note had been added to say it was permanently closed! Here is what we saw and what you will miss…
‘The Swaffham wind turbine, located at the Green Britain Centre, is the UK’s first megawatt-class wind turbine and offers a unique opportunity for visitors to climb to its viewing platform. It was built in 1999 and stands at a height of 67 meters, with rotor blades measuring 66 meters in diameter. It has a power capacity of 1.5 megawatts (MW). The turbine is notable for being the only one in the UK that allows public access to its viewing platform, which is located just below the generator. Visitors can climb 305 steps to reach the top, where they can enjoy panoramic views of the surrounding Norfolk countryside. The climb provides a unique perspective on wind energy production and the scale of the turbine itself.’
It was a unique experience. Safely behind presumably strong glass we watched the blades gracefully glide past.
I don’t have to go on holiday to find ancient steps. Here is the familiar Christchurch castle and nearby at the Priory are hidden steps leading to St. Michael’s Loft Museum.
You find a little door and go up one side, then sensibly go down the stairs at the other side. We visited once years ago, then the door seemed to disappear… but I found it again last year. If you want to visit, check the website for opening hours.
What Iconic steps have you climbed? If you don’t like steps, can they be avoided?
You can go up the Eiffel Tower by lift.
A bus takes you to the cliff top where Whitby Abbey is.
You can just drive up to the historic part of Lincoln. When we were at the castle last year there was a lift operating, not that we used it! BUT looking up their website, maintenance means access to the wall is by the spiral stairs only.
Turn left to go back to the beginning. Where have you been? How many ducklings did you spot and how many duckings did you see? ...and where is the coffee shop?
Florida Key stood on the quay and gazed across the river with pride. He had just taken over the ferry that crossed the river. His family had worked the crossing for generations, centuries perhaps, since the days of rowing over a few locals in a fishing boat. The Key family still held the licence, proud of their professional and safe record for the one minute crossing.
Though the crossing was short, skill was still involved, taking the tide into account, heading downstream before swinging round to tie up at the little wooden jetty. Florida could steer close enough for passengers to disembark without mooring, but passengers liked the security of seeing a rope thrown over the wooden post.
Mr and Mrs Key had thought it amusing to name their first born Florida after conceiving him on a memorable holiday in Florida Keys. Now he decided to use this to his advantage in rebranding and upgrading the ferry experience. He erected bright new signage FLORIDA QUAYS on both river banks. After a torrential downpour the nature reserve side of the river acquired a few ponds and swampy areas which gave him an idea. He acquired some model alligators to hide in the water and the undergrowth, they attracted more attention when he ordered some body parts from Amazon. Children gasped in fright when they spotted a hand or foot sticking out of an alligator’s jaws.
Florida’s next idea was heritage ferry crossings. A new display board, on the town side of the river, displayed digitalised blown up images from the tiny black and white photos in the family album of ancestors rowing humble wooden boats. Florida would row people across while his sister captained the motor boat. He had never rowed a boat before, but how hard could it be, people rowed up and down the river all the time, all he had to do was row across it. With his mates’ help they hauled a rowing boat out of the old boat house.
If the crossings were a success, he might do short pleasure trips down the river to the beach beside the narrow channel where sea worthy boats made their way out. The larger ferries that took passengers up and down the river were owned by a rival company.
The first couple of crossings went well on an incoming tide. The passengers enjoyed the occasional splash from the oars, which made the experience more realistic and several said it was a shame the trip was so short, though it was slower and longer than the motorboat.
In the afternoon a strong wind had blown up and the tide was outgoing. His sister suggested they just stick with the motor boat, but children waiting on the town quay were eager to get to the other side to see the alligators and to get splashed in the rowing boat.
As Florida rowed out there was more of a drag on the oars and the wooden jetty looked further away than usual.
‘Are we going on an adventure?’ squealed one excited boy.
‘No, not today, we’re going to swing round and head for the jetty now.’
But somehow Florida could not turn the boat and the further they drifted downstream the more he forgot which way you did the oars to turn round. When they swept round the bend and the beach hove into view, Florida had an idea, or rather a desperate plan. He just needed to run aground on the sand before reaching the sign on the beach that warned against swimming because of the fast currents in the channel.
‘Okay, we’ll have a little adventure and land on the beach.’
The children cheered while a mother felt under the narrow seat for non existent life jackets and an uncle started tapping into his phone with the vague memory that 999 could also summon the coastguard.
The river current became stronger and took Florida by surprise. His efforts to hang onto the right oar caused him to wrench the ageing oarlock off.
The uncle was unused to making 999 calls and the stress of wondering if they might also need police, fire brigade and ambulance caused him to get confused as to their location. The operator wanted more information than ‘in a boat’ – they were on holiday, so it was not surprising he had no idea what the river was called. The operator thus had no idea that there was an RNLI inshore lifeboat station a short distance away. Fortunately they were doing an exercise and could not avoid noticing an old wooden boat being swept along the channel and out to sea.
When Florida’s sister returned from getting a takeaway coffee, she was surprised to see the motorboat still moored and no sign of her brother or the rowing boat. She wondered if it was wasting the time of the emergency services to dial 999.
When the lifeboat landed all the passengers at the life boat station there was great excitement among the children.
‘Can we go round again, that was fun.’
Florida wondered if it would be okay to ask if they could go back out and rescue his rowing boat, but before he could ask, the coxswain beckoned him into a small, but impressive coms room.
‘Now Sir, I am obliged to offer you some seafaring advice, which I shall do while we wait for the police to arrive.’
I always wanted to be famous, an actress probably, but then I had a better idea, I would become a newsreader. Just as famous, in people’s homes every night, regular work, short hours and best of all, I would be able to sit behind a big desk. Nobody would see my legs and hips, not my best feature and I certainly would not have to do any nude scenes. And I would not have to learn any lines, just read from the autocue.
I practised in front of the mirror… and in tonight’s news… serious face, serious tragedy face, reassuring expression, Royalty voice, lighten up with cheerful final item…
‘As many as three thousand people are feared dead in… the King and Queen met a 117 year old veteran today when they visited… the Coastguard and lifeboats are still searching for three people missing after their… A Jack Russell terrier named Lucky had a lucky escape when he fell over five hundred feet off Beachy Head and landed in an RNLI lifeboat searching for three missing people…’
It transpired that there is more to being a newsreader than I thought, but I made it… local news, national lunchtime news, main evening news! Someone to do my hair and makeup, different smart jacket or blouse every evening and I was soon a well known name. Under the desk I could wear my bunny slippers and what my husband called my pyjama trousers, but what I called lounge wear. Then one day the producer called a meeting.
The evening news was going to be revamped, the desk would be no more. We would walk around pausing now and then to look commanding. How would I walk, read the autocue and look intelligent all at the same time… and what on earth would I wear?
Luckily my brother is a drag queen, not a profession I or my parents ever thought would be useful, but he came round to offer advice. Picking out a couple of pairs, my only pairs, of smart trousers and a dress and two skirts, he put his hands on his hips and said ‘Now all you need is a decent pair of high heels.’
‘I don’t wear heels, I don’t possess any high heels.’
‘No problem, you can borrow a pair of mine.’
‘Won’t they be too big?’
‘Just stuff some tissues in the toes, it’s only for half an hour.’
Monday evening launch and I’m at the studio back door waiting for my brother who had promised to bring the shoes on his way to his show. He had assured me he would choose his most conservative pair with the shortest heels. With minutes to spare I rushed to my dressing room and opened the shoe box. Black, good, four inch heels oh dear. I stared at them, I was unused to wearing such shoes, but even I could tell something was not right, what was odd about them? Something was right, both shoes were right! He had so many pairs of shoes, presumably lots of similar pairs and rushing around getting his dresses ready he did not notice his mistake.
I had no choice but to wear them, I was expecting them to be uncomfortable anyway, so what difference would it make. Out in the corridor I steadied myself against the wall. My producer said ‘You look lovely, whoops, politically incorrect, you look very professional. Oh by the way, we have got breaking news, no idea what or where, keep your eyes on the autocue and listen on your earpiece for updates.’
I tottered over to the prearranged starting point, my feet in agony already and my earpiece buzzing with the producer’s mumblings and urgent hissings. I peered at the autocue, but I was not used to this angle.
‘…and we start tonight with breaking news from … how on earth is that pronounced…
‘Start walking across’ hissed my producer.
I couldn’t even think which foot to put forward first and they hadn’t told me I had to walk up steps…
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 