Nostalgia

 

Baystone Bridge

I was surprised that I recognised this little bridge when it popped up on my computer recently but I was instantly transported back to the small Sussex village where I spent my early childhood in the 1960’s.   
 

Memories of jam jars and fishing for tiddlers and sticklebacks, mud fights with other village kids, climbing the big tree with branches that hung out over the river, hiding behind the anti-tank blocks of concrete (visible in the photo), the dank smell of the water and pungent odour of wild garlic.  Tucking our dresses into our knickers or rolling up trousers and paddling in the river.  The bridge was in far better condition back in my childhood.  We used to cycle there from the village, past the old army camp, through the farmyard, past the old mill pond and along a muddy track until we came to Baystone Bridge crossing the River Arun.  Those were the days when we had incredible freedom to roam around and explore the countryside just as long as we were home in time for tea.

 Most of the fields and woods around the village where we used to play have been eaten up by extensive housing estates so it’s wonderful to see that this special little memory of my childhood still exists, almost unchanged.