Seaside postcard 2: Dungeness It's the UK's largest expanse of shingle. It's made up of 4000 exposed acres of pebbles. It's got two lighthouses, a nuclear power station and a scrappy street of tumbledown cottages. It's 23 miles from the nearest Argos. It's the most southeasterly point in England. In the winter it's utterly bleak and miserably windswept. It's not somewhere you'd ever go accidentally. It'sDungeness. I loved it.
Only a few scattered clumps of sea kale and sea campion have managed to colonise the broad strip of barren stones closest to the water's edge. Here and there lie abandoned boats, some still seaworthy, others that will never sail again. Rusty metal tracks lead out past tumbledown huts to the summit of a steep shingle bank. Repeated wave action has built up the pebbles into perfectly-ridged steps [photo], at risk of being destroyed underfoot by hordes of thoughtless human footsteps. Thankfully few come, and the English Channel is always ready with a fresh top-up.
Dungeness Power Station: What else would you build in the middle of a Special Conservation Area but two nuclear power stations [photo]? Dungeness A is the old Magnox reactor, brought online in 1965 but switched off last New Year's Eve and now undergoing 105 years ofdecomissioning. Let's hope that global warming doesn't drown the site first. Meanwhile Dungeness B opened for business in 1983 and isn't due to be switched off until 2018. Which isn't long, really, given how long the site will remain unusable afterwards. In the meantime you can come down to Dungeness and picnic right outside the security fence, or walk along the high shingle ridge between the reactors and the sea [photo], or just go for a swim in the discharge outfall and see what happens. But, should the sirens ever sound and you need to make a swift exit, remember that the miniature trains from the nearby station have a maximum speed of only 25mph. Keep your fingers crossed.
Dungeness Lighthouses: If you're sailing a boat along the English Channel, this is one headland you'll want to avoid. There have been at least five lighthouses here over the last 400 years [photo], shifting ever further seaward as the shingle bank has increased in size. The circular living quarters around the base of the 1792 lighthouse survive, and are currently up for sale for a mere £1½ million [photo]. Beside this stands a 1904 replacement, rising 41 metres above the shingle, and this is now open to the public. 169 steps curl precipitously around the inside of the tower, up to a viewing platform around the mighty lamp from which there are the most magnificentviews in all directions. You can gaze inland across the unrelenting flatness of Romney Marsh [photo], or stare out to sea, or maybe catch sight of a rising cloud of steam billowing up from the next approaching steam train. It's also possible to look down onto the neighbouring power station... [photo] although the power station turned out to be a problem once built because ships approaching from the west were unable to see the lighthouse any more. So Trinity House built a new tower, tall and slender and rather closer to the coastline, which still belts out light in the general direction of France.
Prospect Cottage: This black-timbered former fisherman's cottage [photo] is famous as the former home of film director Derek Jarman. He was drawn to this desolate nuclear headland by its isolation, and used the surrounding area as the setting for his film The Last of England. After being diagnosed HIV-positive in the late 80s, Derek set about creating a garden amongst the shingle, and succeeded in creating an enchanting soil-free environment. The garden survived his death in 1994, and visitors can still trample (carefully) around it today. Just don't go up to the window and stare into the cottage - the current owner doesn't appreciate that. Sticks and stumps and rusty metal structures rise up from the stones [photo], like an enormous random rockery. The front garden is a little more formal [photo], the back garden rather less so [photo]. The vegetation is a riot of colour in early summer - an oasis in a gravel desert - but even in midwinter this garden stands out as something very different, something very special.
Distressingly this is our fourth bank holiday under lockdown. Typically it's another warm sunny day which in normal times would've seen many of us flocking cross-country to make the most of it. Annoyingly these perfect conditions will all be wasted, again, except by those with cars and no sense of communal responsibility.
Under normal circumstances I would definitely have travelled somewhere by train today, not least because it's a rare weekday with off-peak fares, but instead I find myself pottering around ultra-locally. So for blogging purposes I've been imagining where I could potentially have gone, at sequential intervals of 10 miles from home.
10 miles from home: Epping Forest
A walk along socially-distanced footpaths sounds ideal, and the tea hut at High Beach is the requisite distance from home. But my normal means of getting there involves the Central line which remains off limits, and to walk it would be a 20 mile round trip and that's entirely impractical too. If even the first location on this list is out of bounds, all hope of near-future travel is screwed. also 10 miles from home: Putney, Neasden, Gidea Park, Ruxley
20 miles from home: Sevenoaks
A trip to inner Kent should be cheap and easy, plus I fancy a walk across the Deer Park to Knole because I've not been getting much value from my National Trust membership this year. But even though bank holiday trains to Sevenoaks ought to be quiet, the tubes before that alas won't be. also 20 miles from home: Uxbridge, Croxley Green, Billericay, Chartwell
30 miles from home: Southend
A dash to the seaside makes for a perfect bank holiday treat, and the seaside doesn't get any closer to me than this. Unfortunately I suspect thousands will have had the same idea, so the pier'll be packed, the prom'll be seething and the queue for a Rossi's lemon ice will be plain dangerous. also 30 miles from home: Maidenhead, Luton, Maidstone, Gatwick
40 miles from home: Biggleswade
I'm always happy to visit a minor provincial town in search of points of interest, because they always have several. I could even try looking up where Harper Twelvetrees was born. But today is not the day for putting my health on the line for a minor provincial town. also 40 miles from home: Aylesbury, Isle of Sheppey, Farnham, Reading
50 miles from home: Goring
The Thames Valley is gorgeous at this time of year, and Goring's ideal because I can pair a waterside stroll with a hike up onto the Downs. I've missed both of these lately. I'm less convinced that reaching Paddington will be as enjoyable. also 50 miles from home: St Neots, Lavenham, Canterbury, Brighton
60 miles from home: Dungeness
This is another personal favourite, first the adventure of riding the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Railway to get there, then the magnificent desolation of the pebbly waste Derek Jarman called home. But those RHDR trains are really tiny, so couldn't be worse for social distancing, so not today. also 60 miles from home: Blenheim, Wellingborough, Walton-on-the-Naze, Bognor Regis
70 miles from home: Banbury
It's not the most exciting of destinations but I've never been, except straight through on a narrowboat, and it'd be nice to see the legendary market cross first hand. That said I see the Lego exhibition in the town's museum has been delayed, so maybe I'd be better off waiting. also 70 miles from home: Thetford, Sutton Hoo, Gosport, Andover
80 miles from home: Shanklin
I love the Isle of Wight, and last time I was in this coastal resort I had to miss out on riding the cliff lift because I had a tube train to catch. I just worry about the additional complications of reaching the island by ferry, catamaran, hovercraft or whatever, and then doing it all again on the way back. also 80 miles from home: Stow-on-the Wold, Rugby, Stamford, Aldeburgh
90 miles from home: Calais
I had genuinely been considering a day trip to Calais this year, taking advantage of the special Southeastern Day Tripper ticket before the UK's Brexit transition period ends. But a ferry crossing's just too much faff at present, and within weeks the need to quarantine on both sides of the Channel will have killed this day trip off. also 90 miles from home: The Needles, Evesham, Leicester, Southwold
100 miles from home: Bournemouth
Bournemouth's possibly the perfect target on a sunny spring bank holiday, with miles of sand, two piers, leafy chines and a dash of refined heritage to boot. However I hear the narrow paths zigzagging from clifftop to beach are proving a social distancing nightmare, so where'd be the fun in that? also 100 miles from home:Bath, Loughborough, Boston. Hunstanton
110 miles from home: Bristol
Or how about Bristol? This waterside city is a cultural hub it's hard to tire of, plus it's easy to use Temple Meads as the jumping-off point to somewhere interesting nearby. I fear the waterfront might be quite busy though, the Clifton Suspension Bridge considerably more so, so no. also 110 miles from home: Lichfield, Nottingham, Cromer, Dunkirk
120 miles from home: Lincoln
I am persistently cross with myself that I've not been back here this century, at least before sunset. Lincolnshire remains one of my least-blogged counties, and the cathedral on a hill would be an ideal reintroduction. I worry that not much would be open this particular bank holiday, though. also 120 miles from home: Yeovil, Glastonbury, Hereford, Dieppe
130 miles from home: Ludlow
Here's part of the country I know very little about - borderline Shropshire - but the town has a castle and a museum and a river plus some rollicking scenery. However I note it's a three-and-a-bit hour journey from London, each way, which can't possibly be the safest use of my time. also 130 miles from home: Bridport, Ironbridge, Market Rasen, Ostend
140 miles from home: Eyam
Nowhere has more historical resonance at present than the plague village of Eyam, whose residents took a hit in 1665 for the greater good. For that very reason I suspect the current inhabitants may not be best pleased with Londoners barging in and poking around, so best give the place a miss. also 140 miles from home: Barry, Shrewsbury, Cleethorpes, Bruges
150 miles from home: Crewe
It's not the most glamorous of towns, more a jumped-up railway junction, but it has a Heritage Centre full of trains which'd be eminently bloggable. However I'm not convinced walking the streets for the rest of the day would be any more fun than walking the same old streets back home. also 150 miles from home: Sidmouth, Minehead, Llandridnod Wells, Rouen
160 miles from home: Alderney
I'd love to go back to the Channel Islands, especially this tiny one which I last visited in the spring half term 45 years ago. But I well remember how small the plane was, and we had to catch another plane before we caught that one, so aviation issues mean I can cross this off the list for some considerable time. also 160 miles from home: Exmouth, Oswestry, Stockport, Pontefract
170 miles from home: Swansea
I've already had to cancel a trip to Wales as part of post-lockdown travel restrictions, so it'd be brilliant to go back properly and explore more of the rocky coast around the Mumbles. However nothing's really changed since the end of March, GWR-wise, so Wales is not going to be happening any time soon. also 170 miles from home: Torquay, Runcorn, Rochdale, Leeds
180 miles from home: Liverpool
I have never been bored on a trip to Merseyside, there being so much to see and so many things to do, even people to meet. Unfortunately I see there are rail replacement buses in operation this bank holiday weekend, and the idea of piling aboard a crowded coach at Crewe quashes all my desires to go back at present. also 180 miles from home: Ilfracombe, Machynlleth, Burnley, Harrogate
190 miles from home: Scarborough
How have I never ever been to Scarborough, despite living not so very far away for a year? I've been meaning to go for ages, to finally experience the architecture, the chips and the sweep of the bay. But I haven't pre-booked my LNER ticket, as is now mandatory, so I won't be going today. also 190 miles from home: Clovelly, Rhyl, Preston, Antwerp
200 miles from home: Plymouth
This actually is the last place I visited outside London, so OK, I really don't need to go again. Indeed it looks like standing on the hillside at Mount Edgcumbe, marginally into Cornwall, is going to be the furthest I get from London for some considerable time. also 200 miles from home: Porthmadog, Snowdon, Blackpool, Brussels
210 miles from home: Paris
Eurostar makes a trip to the French capital so straight-forward, which is why I've availed myself of several journeys over the past few years. Alas, not only is Brexit cutting us off from the continent but coronavirus is too, so I'm glad I got over there while I easily could. also 210 miles from home: Tintagel, Pembroke, Bangor, Lancaster
220 miles from home: Barrow-in-Furness
I'm now reaching the boundaries of a viable day trip, indeed this is normally a four hour journey and the only way to get there before noon is to leave Euston at half past five. Today however a railway replacement bus is involved and you can't get to Barrow before quarter to three in the afternoon, so no thanks. also 220 miles from home: Padstow, Barnard Castle, Middlesbrough, Amsterdam
230 miles from home: Durham
But this sounds like a perfectly reasonable place to visit. I could maybe drive up from London, acting responsibly and with integrity, as I'm sure this would be perfectly legal. In fact I have no alternative but to go, as every adult in the country would doubtless agree, and not even the Prime Minister can stop me. also 230 miles from home: Newquay, St David's, Holyhead, Lake Windermere
With all the building work taking place at Tate Modern at the moment, the latest in The Unilever Series has gone mostly unnoticed. The landmark art project which currently fills the Turbine Hall is more understated than most, that's for sure. There is no blazing sun on the far wall, no crack snaking across the floor, no set of metal spirals to slide down. Instead a more subtle work has appeared, encompassing the void in an entirely new way, yet still with its own original voice.
Tate Modern: Ischan Ging
The Unilever Series: May 2013 - January 2014
The first hint that something unusual is afoot comes on attempting to access the Turbine Hall via the usual channels. The main entrance from the west is sealed off, preventing access down the usual sloping walkway into the heart of the building. Instead visitors must approach along the passage past the cafe, squeezing past the queue for scones, where a high temporary barrier shields the view. One's senses are truly heightened - what is the mystery behind? Playfully there are no clues until three portholes appear on the right hand side, each of a different size and at a different height. The Tate have positioned a security guard close by in case these vantage points become too popular, but thankfully I was fortunate in timing my visit so as to observe without obstruction.
The latest Turbine Hall installation is somewhat of a triptych, as befits a masterwork of note. From this location only the central section is properly visible, this being the raised mezzanine overlooking the rest of the hall. Initially all appears empty, but look again. The barrier around the top of the stairs has been replaced by metal pipework, erupting from a wooden framework skirting the rim. This tableau reflects the safety-conscious nature of our modern society, encompassing risk and order within its temporary frame. This theme is further echoed by a red-framed installation close by - Twin Extinguishers of Fire - which stands poised and ready to put out the raging flames of 21st century society.
Again, closer inspection bears dividends. The floor is covered in a thick layer of dust, reminiscent of Ai Weiwei's carpet of porcelain sunflower seeds exhibited here in 2010. Throughout this powder carpet can be seen trails of repeated patterns forming sinuous lines across the floor. These are the footprints of the performance artists who labour daily to create the impression of a building site, an illusion so deftly created you might even believe it were true. Three further portholes on the northern side suggest the existence of extension works beyond, as if the gallery were expanding both vertically and horizontally to meet artistic need. As if.
Accessing the remainder of the Turbine Hall installation can be problematic - indeed building access is severely compromised for the duration of the work. There are no escalators up from the first floor, they merely sail past, so a more physical approach is required. Walk down to reach the start of the incline, else take the back stairs to ascend in dark twists. You may struggle with the crowds, so comprehensively has the Turbine Hall's temporary quarantine compromised access to the upper levels. But oh what vista awaits from the glass gallery on floor two. The entire void is opened up with unobstructed views to left and right, and only now can one fully appreciate the true extent of this year's project.
At the eastern end of the hall, seemingly nothing. No piles of cardboard boxes, no expanse of bunkbeds, no giant screen. All that's visible are the sober brick walls of this former generating station and a high vertical window. And yet this surely is the very conceit the artist has attempted to expose, showcasing the structure's very ordinariness as a counterpoint to creative hubris, or something.
To appreciate the substance of the western section - the slope down from Bankside to basement level - an increase in elevation is recommended. Climb to the third floor, or better still ascend to the fourth, to absorb the panorama. What disturbance is this? The entire floor has been ripped up, even the remains of Doris Salcedo's concrete crevice scarred here five years back. Scattered about are piles of rubble - some rocks, some pipework - seemingly random yet assembled with painstaking accuracy. A small digger has been placed parallel to the main door, again precisely aligned, close to a very lifelike sculpture of a wheelbarrow. Dust lies everywhere, some scraped as if by persistent motion into lifelike swirls. Meanwhile on the far wall a giant wooden scaffold rises high, then higher, its lower strata sheathed in translucent plastic skin. The overall result is a bold statement of intent, a parable for our times, an unmistakeable composition.
If you're on fourth, look to the right to view the project's crowning glory. A new footbridge is being installed at vertigo-inducing height, designed to link the existing galleries to the new. You'll need a head for heights to cross, but for now access is blocked, available only via imagination. Instead the Tate distracts with artworks under the umbrella of 'Structure and Clarity, from Mondrian to Jarman, in adjacent rooms opened for many a long year. But when the Herzog & de Meuron extension opens in 2016, this skyway path will be an alternative gateway to pyramidal heights. Until then the Turbine Hall's latest installation offers tantalising glimpses of creative horizons as yet unattained, of dreams unbidden, of aesthetic destiny. Visit soon, or maybe best wait a bit.
It's the UK's largest expanse of shingle. It's made up of 4000 exposed acres of pebbles. It's got two lighthouses, a nuclear power station and a scrappy street of tumbledown cottages. It's 23 miles from the nearest Argos. It's the most southeasterly point in England. In the winter it's utterly bleak and miserably windswept. It's not somewhere you'd ever go accidentally. It's Dungeness. I loved it.
Dungeness Power Station: What else would you build in the middle of a Special Conservation Area but two nuclear power stations [photo]? Dungeness A is the old Magnox reactor, brought online in 1965 but switched off last New Year's Eve and now undergoing 105 years of decomissioning. Let's hope that global warming doesn't drown the site first. Meanwhile Dungeness B opened for business in 1983 and isn't due to be switched off until 2018. Which isn't long, really, given how long the site will remain unusable afterwards. In the meantime you can come down to Dungeness and picnic right outside the security fence, or walk along the high shingle ridge between the reactors and the sea [photo], or just go for a swim in the discharge outfall and see what happens. But, should the sirens ever sound and you need to make a swift exit, remember that the miniature trains from the nearby station have a maximum speed of only 25mph. Keep your fingers crossed.
Prospect Cottage: This black-timbered former fisherman's cottage [photo] is famous as the former home of film director Derek Jarman. He was drawn to this desolate nuclear headland by its isolation, and used the surrounding area as the setting for his film The Last of England. After being diagnosed HIV-positive in the late 80s, Derek set about creating a garden amongst the shingle, and succeeded in creating an enchanting soil-free environment. The garden survived his death in 1994, and visitors can still trample (carefully) around it today. Just don't go up to the window and stare into the cottage - the current owner doesn't appreciate that. Sticks and stumps and rusty metal structures rise up from the stones [photo], like an enormous random rockery. The front garden is a little more formal [photo], the back garden rather less so [photo]. The vegetation is a riot of colour in early summer - an oasis in a gravel desert - but even in midwinter this garden stands out as something very different, something very special.
JUBILEE: Southwark
The latest Turbine Hall installation is somewhat of a triptych, as befits a masterwork of note. From this location only the central section is properly visible, this being the raised mezzanine overlooking the rest of the hall. Initially all appears empty, but look again. The barrier around the top of the stairs has been replaced by metal pipework, erupting from a wooden framework skirting the rim. This tableau reflects the safety-conscious nature of our modern society, encompassing risk and order within its temporary frame. This theme is further echoed by a red-framed installation close by - Twin Extinguishers of Fire - which stands poised and ready to put out the raging flames of 21st century society.
To appreciate the substance of the western section - the slope down from Bankside to basement level - an increase in elevation is recommended. Climb to the third floor, or better still ascend to the fourth, to absorb the panorama. What disturbance is this? The entire floor has been ripped up, even the remains of Doris Salcedo's concrete crevice scarred here five years back. Scattered about are piles of rubble - some rocks, some pipework - seemingly random yet assembled with painstaking accuracy. A small digger has been placed parallel to the main door, again precisely aligned, close to a very lifelike sculpture of a wheelbarrow. Dust lies everywhere, some scraped as if by persistent motion into lifelike swirls. Meanwhile on the far wall a giant wooden scaffold rises high, then higher, its lower strata sheathed in translucent plastic skin. The overall result is a bold statement of intent, a parable for our times, an unmistakeable composition.
