There is a cliff, whose high and bending head looks fearfully on the confined deep

Jill and I carried on with the Saxon Shoreway today – going from Dover to Folkestone. We left the car in Folkestone, caught the train to Dover then set off up to the western Heights – through this kissing gate – although the last time it ‘kissed’ must have been some time ago!
It was a very steep path up to the fort at Western Heights –
not very clear where you had to go once you got there! We walked through this tunnel, which to begin with you could walk quite comfortably, but gradually the height got lower and lower, until the last few feet you had to crouch!
It came out above the port – the views were spectacular,
We had to go back through the tunnel to find the path again – the tunnel had only been unlocked as part of an open day at the fort. As we passed a the entrance we heard a man complaining that he had not been able to get through the tunnel – possibly because he was the size of a small elephant. The path went past the ruins of a Knights Templar church, which helpfully had the sign translated into braille – why?


We got wet feet as we went through the underpass under the main road,
and then the path rose steeply again up the other side onto the cliffs.
It was very, very high up – but when the path was close to the edge there was a wall so although my fear of heights is legendary I didn’t fall into disco legs syndrome!It was a beautiful walk across the cliff tops –
we stopped for lunch overlooking the road to Roundhill tunnel – but it was so high up that you could hardly hear the traffic.We came to the Battle of Britain museum on the cliff top – didn’t think much of the statue of the airman – which was a shame –
it was a beautiful spot and the idea of a pilot sat looking out over the sea was wonderful – but the reality didn’t live up to the expectation. We saw my Uncle Stanley’s name on the memorial.
Shortly afterwards the path went down into Folkestone, where we blundered around trying to find the car – no signs for the station and we didn’t have a map.
One last spectacular sight though!

Day four – and home

We went for another walk,to find a museum we hadn’t been to yet, and discovered more of the town. We found lots more statues.

Then – we turned a corner – and came across this…

It was the museum that we had come to see -and unfortunately it was shut! Another day.
We walked back to Sablon and had lunch at the Hungarian restaurant,
and a last look in the shops around the square. When I win the lottery I will be in the Frey Willie shop and spending!
We had a last drink in Le Paraquet (?) then had to practically run back for the train.

The third day – in which we walked

We didn’t get too much sleep as the room was so hot, and when we went down for breakfast we were told it wasn’t included. Luckily I had printed the itinerary which clearly stated breakfast was included, so we went to speak to the receptionist – I said that we weren’t having a very good stay, and were told to put our complaint in writing! Just as we set out for the day we were told that they would change our room – but no apology. Not impressed.

Today we had a lesson in perspective – seeing something which looked close to – but was actually huge and far away- the more you walked toward it the further away it seemed to get. We set out in the pouring rain which luckily stopped after ten minutes. and, for the first time in many visits to Brussels, we saw the canal. The bridge across was guarded by four wonderful statues of .. well .. statuesque women!I loved their fat knees.
The road went through a really run down district – but the houses were still beautiful with wrought iron work and tiling.
We eventually got to the park in front – and as there were two more drops of rain – we took refuge in a bar. (well that was our excuse)
The church was immense – we went inside
and Phil was brave and went right up to the dome in a lift with no sides! He took some photographs from the top, and one of them showed the second visit of the day – the big silver balls – look close don’t they?
Unfortunately we didn’t have a map, so it took good luck and Phil’s wonderful sense of navigation to get us there – and it was a long way! The park around was very crowded and there was a huge queue to go up into the balls. We decided not to go up and went and had a drink instead near a band.
A couple came and sat next to us – they had met at the Expo when the balls had been erected- she was Belgian and he had been a diplomat and was very, very British. They were shocked that we had ‘walked all the way from Brussels’ we had thought we were still in Brussels!
We set off to walk back, again blundering our way navigating by the sun! We stopped and bought another bag on wheels – this time with a proper handle – and eventually got back to the hotel. Before we could collapse I went and negotiated our change of room. It wasn’t much of an improvement!
In the evening we went out and had the best meal of the holiday at the Old Brussels – Phil had the tasting menu and I had lamb and dauphinoise potatoes. Gorgeous.