I remember in pre -illness days the excitement of a day at Hengistbury Head, the kites being flown in the unfailing wind over the grass. My mum telling me how she spent her childhood summers with her friend on and around the head, discovering wildflowers and staying out all day.
The green Noddy train and its views of rushes and reeds, water diamonds in the sun and Christchurch Priory in the distance, as it took us around the head from one sea salty space to another, and once we reached Muddiford Spit, I would read the names of the beach huts and choose my favourite.
In my mind, I relive swimming in the coves formed between the rocky groins and I smile at the climbing tree. Do look out for it if you’re following the Noddy train path, its lowest branch sweeps out horizontally, the tree leaning and the branch grazing the ground in a welcoming gesture to anyone who fancies sitting, standing, or climbing on it.
It’s a very friendly tree. I remember walking to the top of the Head and the magic of the discovery of the lily pond in full flower, like an enchanted vision amongst the trees at the top. These memories are a blessing.
I have returned to Hengistbury Head since being ill. Carers, family members and helpful strangers have worked together to push my wheelchair up the gentler slope to the top. My mobility scooter, with an extra shove or two from a strong man, has enabled me once to climb the more dramatic sea view ascent.
But, as my health has deteriorated, even occasional trips out of the house have tailed off. So now I ask you to take in an extra breath of sea-fresh air for me. Please listen a moment longer to the waves on the sand and stone and soak up a little more of the moment on my behalf.
Thank you, I hope you have a wonderful day at Hengistbury Head.
