I visited Beachy Head this summer twice, having never visited before.
It is quite stunning. Situated on the high cliffs overlooking the English Channel, where the Sussex south downs border the very end of England… Some where between Eastbourne and Brighton.
On both visits it has been ‘blowy’ (and that’s an understatement) and captivating.
I am intrigued that this beautiful spot is the very same spot that is the most famous in England for people to use as a platform for a final goodbye as they throw themselves over the wildflowers and into the grey cold waves and delicately pocked cliffs below.
I hoped on the first trip to be inspired to write something, given the dramatic nature of its reputation, but as yet I haven’t.
As I write just a little here now it occurs to me that it is not the famous and well known or the beautiful or the dramatic that necessarily inspires and is so often the ordinary, the everyday, the less obviously captivating…
But it seems what my trips have given me instead is this realisation. You don’t need to travel to be inspired. All the sparks are within us waiting to be ignited.