White Cliffs of Dover

England is eroding at the edges, literally. A recent trip to continental Europe from Britain brought me to the ferry port of Dover. Since the bed and breakfast was so satisfactory I opted for an extra night which afforded me the time to scale the cliffs the next day. So you have images of me suspended from ropes digging in my spiked boots and clinging to clefts. Not necessary. The National Trust provides a nice set of footpaths which take you top to bottom. I made it all the way to neighbouring St Margaret’s Bay along the cliff tops where one can see the homes that used to belong to Noel Coward and Ian Fleming. Of even greater interest were the places where the chalk cliffs had actually slumped into the sea. And me within four feet of the edge at times! Gradually England is receding. Real estate prices are rising, at the seafront perhaps no so much. When in Dover a visit to the White Horse Pub is recommended. Its walls are covered in felt tip markings written by successful channel swimmers. The ferry takes an hour and a half. Record swim, in the seven and a half hour range. Good on you folks.