Oh England, my England!

A couple of week ago, the country marked the 80th anniversary of the WW2 raid on the dams of the Ruhr valley – made famous in the film The Dam Busters. With it’s iconic theme music that’s hummed loudly on football terraces all over the UK whenever they happen to come up against a German team (it’s a British sense of humour thing, what can I say), it was all jolly patriotic stuff.

We watched the film last weekend, shortly before going out for a little visit to a bit of Sussex countryside which we’d not yet explored. We knew the surrounding area from visits to the coast, as well as to Charleston, the country home where various members of the Bloomsbury set were to be found either living or visiting.

Someone on LinkedIn had mentioned they lived in Berwick, pointing out that it wasn’t the better known town in Scotland, but the tiny hamlet in Sussex, somewhere that has a rather lovely church. A couple of photos were posted, which was enough for me to suggest to Himself that we might fancy a little run out in the early summer sunshine.

And it was, indeed, very lovely. A tiny church, typical of the area – with it’s steeple and main body formed of local stone, one roofed one in slate and the other in tiles, it formed a pretty little picture. What wasn’t typical was the decor. There were no fancy heavy carved pews – just a few simple ones, with rows of folding wooden and rush seat chairs, a small baptismal font at the rear and two multicoloured pulls for the church bells.

But oh the art…

Not framed, but covering the walls were some amazing works of art created by no lesser luminaries than Bloomsbury artists Duncan Grant and Vanessa Bell, and her artist children Quentin and Angelica. Murals painted onto plasterboard cover the walls. There’s a gorgeously decorated wooden pulpit, a delightfully crafted holder for candles – indeed, there’s a feast for the eyes everywhere you look. Ranged around the walls at head height, are little alcoves, each containing a candle – so I imagine it must be the most magical experience in candlelight.

While wandering around the graveyard, we found a little quiet spot. Hidden away in a little hollow, enveloped in trees and dense shrubbery, was an old bench with the most splendid outlook. Rolling hills and fields as far as the eye could see, with little villages or hamlets nestled in between, a solitary dog walker and tractor the only human things in view – and, on that day, cloudy blue skies.

As you can see from the clip, it was nothing in any way spectacular – just a lovely, peaceful scene, reminiscent of yesteryear. Sitting there in the quiet of a warm afternoon, I commented to Himself that what we saw in front of us could’ve been lifted straight out of that film, for there were no signs of modern life anywhere. All it would’ve taken was for a couple of Spitfires or Hurricanes and the roar of their Merlin engines, to complete the scene.

And that’s when I saw and understood it – the patriotism, the love of country, which was felt so keenly back then. It was my ‘Oh England, my England’ moment. And, as someone who’s always felt I didn’t belong, even if I hold a passport which says I do, this was the first time I’ve viscerally connected with this place which is now my home.

PS: I’ve added a gallery for those of you who’d like to see more photos, so they don’t clutter up the post. It’s my first, but I plan to include more photos there as time goes by.

What’s your relationship with nature and the countryside? Do you simply admire and enjoy what it has to offer, or do you feel a connection?

© Debra Carey, 2023