Menootanaboot; A Final Friday Feature

So much has gone on this month; I admit to being in a bit of a spin! Another reason, perhaps, for the neuralgic episode. Thank you to all those who expressed concern and good wishes. No, denying it is an unpretty thing. I can report that at the time of writing (Thursday evening), there is still the twinge by the ear, which seems always to be the centre of it all, a skin sensitivity over the right cheek, jaw and neck, but my smile should be back in place by the weekend!

For today's feature post, I bring you another outing on the buses of Hampshire. 

Having made up my mind that I could tolerate moving about on Wednesday morning, I gathered my bag and set off first on the 23 down to the bus station. From there, I connected with the 31. The plan was to first visit the Hayling donkey sanctuary. A kindly local lady I sat beside assured me the stop to alight at was The Maypole. She was right... only what wasn't accounted for is that there are no signs up for the sanctuary at all. At least, not by the main road. So I was a good kilometre down that road and at the next bus stop before I thought, 'Something's gone wrong here.' I whisked out the pocket tablet, aka Gopika the Pixel 7, and turned on the magic intermutts stuff to work maps. Sure enough, it was back up near where I'd alighted in the lane where all sorts of marine companies are. I sighed and decided I wasn't meant to be there that day. (And, having now read their website properly, I realise that I was supposed to book a visit ahead of time anyway... so that's one for the next time I am around these parts.)

I'd at least had a stretch of the legs, although, to be honest, not entirely fun due to that one road on and off the island being extremely busy and the sidewalk very narrow! I found myself hugging the hedge rather intimately on a couple of occasions. As I stood at the bus stop, slightly befuddled, the No. 30 came around the corner, so I hailed it and rode it down to Eastoke. 

This is right on the beach and very 'seasidey'. There was a cafe right by the stop, and it was 11:30, so I treated myself to one of their full ice cream milkshakes, which I counted as lunch; so filling was it! Delicious. Wicked. Just right for the 20'C, almost cloudless seaside day.

Then I wandered over to the beach side of the street. I took some photos on the Hisstix so that it knew I still remembered and loved it... you'll have to wait for those shots as I didn't bring the transfer gubbins. 

After enjoying the views over towards Portsmouth and Gosport, with ships waiting to dock and lots of yachts enjoying a fine breeze, I trundled over to the Hayling Light Railway terminus. Long-term readers will know by now that I have an interest in planes, ships and trains (as well as vans!). 

This setup is a little more towards model railways than my usual choice, but it was there, so had to be investigated! 

The engines are diesel-run (even the one with the false 'stack'). This particular setup is only actually 20 years in operation. Originally, the island was served by a branch line from Havant until the Beeching cuts of 1963 closed it down. Known as the Billy Line, that is now used as one of the local area's main walks. In the mid-1980s, a local fellow, Bob Haddock, decided the Mill Rythe Holiday village (quite a settlement actually) required some transport, so opened up the "East Hayling Light Railway", narrow gauge, small engines. Then, in 2003 it was packed up and shifted over to the beach and became the seaside railway. It is entirely volunteer-run.

I caught the 12:15 to Beachlands. This is a ride of about 12 or 13 minutes in the westward direction, terminating at the funfair section of the beachfront. At Eastoke station, the conductor (ticket master) went along the carriages collecting fares... only somehow he didn't see me, despite waving and calling. Then the driver (his badge actually said Fat Controller!) was nattering with the two ladies in the next carriage, so I tried to catch his attention - no response. When the ticket master came back along to get in the guard's carriage, he still didn't respond to my calls. So, along the ride, we went with me fretting that I might be had up by the transport police for fare dodging!

Now, one could have stayed on and made the return trip... but frankly, the single trip was sufficient. This was a pure novelty with no real railway interest (harsh, I know, but remember too that I was not even at my 87% best - those dark glasses are hiding much!). When alighting at the Beachlands end, the ticket master opened the door for me. I told him off for leaving me ticketless - in a very Thomas the Tank Engine manner, as that is all I could compare this little experience to. He went to get it sorted for me, then hesitated and said - have this one on me! I would not have at all minded paying up my two quid, but he insisted, so for that, I managed a smile. 

I will say that the Beachlands end of things was very unexciting, but there were good, clean and functional toilet facilities, and the 30 bus turned up just as I was ready to be on the go again. It took the scenic route all around Mill Rythe village before heading back up towards Havant. 

I got off at the stop beside Hobbycraft. I wanted some buttons. I lingered among the yarns, of course, but actually managed to haul myself away with only the buttons I wanted. Plus, some needle threaders. And some new yarn needles... 🤫

Then I went across to visit St Faith's church, just behind the bus station. I admit that, to this point, I was ignorant of St Faith of Aquitaine. This church itself hails back a full millennium, with some original building still evident, though many additions and adaptations have taken place - as must always be the case of a living, working building. 

It is a lovely little haven in the centre of a mostly modern setting (i.e. post-war), and I enjoyed ten minutes of respite under its roof. 

I wandered back to the bus station via Waitrose (for some milk) and the Meridian shopping mall (managing to NOT take a photo with the giant plastic polar bear). Back onto the 23 and home to Tigger. 

My time here grows shorter, F and Mr B back on Sunday, and only four sleeps until The Grey Day!...