In John Wyndham's novel The Day of the Triffids, Bill Mason attempts to make a new life in
the Sussex Downs. These are a range of chalk hills that terminate along the south coast of England with the
Seven Sisters.
During our 2013 stay in Brighton, we took a bus trip to Seven Sisters. From the visitor's center, we braved the wind and the rain as we hiked out to the coast. I can imagine retiring to one of these cottages, such as Sherlock Holmes did in the Arthur Conan Doyle story "His Last Bow." I can envision a pleasant life there filled with relaxing strolls along the shore, walking past fields with grazing cows, watching the farmers working, and sketching all the beautiful scenery.
Unlike Sherlock Holmes, I probably would not raise bees.
If like Bill, I lacked basic necessities such as power, clean and running water, and a nearby source for groceries, my time there would prove less pleasant. If Triffids were constantly trying to break through the barriers I've constructed around my home and farm, that would also make the situation less than idyllic.
Another complication Bill faces, which I would not have envisioned, is that with few people occupying and working the land, the roads deteriorate, and the land reverts to marsh. He sees a future in which driving a car or truck will be impossible, and he will have to rely on a half-track (a vehicle with wheels in front and tank-like tracks in back) for transportation.
During our 2013 stay in Brighton, we took a bus trip to Seven Sisters. From the visitor's center, we braved the wind and the rain as we hiked out to the coast. I can imagine retiring to one of these cottages, such as Sherlock Holmes did in the Arthur Conan Doyle story "His Last Bow." I can envision a pleasant life there filled with relaxing strolls along the shore, walking past fields with grazing cows, watching the farmers working, and sketching all the beautiful scenery.
Unlike Sherlock Holmes, I probably would not raise bees.
If like Bill, I lacked basic necessities such as power, clean and running water, and a nearby source for groceries, my time there would prove less pleasant. If Triffids were constantly trying to break through the barriers I've constructed around my home and farm, that would also make the situation less than idyllic.
Another complication Bill faces, which I would not have envisioned, is that with few people occupying and working the land, the roads deteriorate, and the land reverts to marsh. He sees a future in which driving a car or truck will be impossible, and he will have to rely on a half-track (a vehicle with wheels in front and tank-like tracks in back) for transportation.
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| Seven Sisters, England |
One thing I discovered, during our day there, was how isolated you are. My wife and I simply hadn't realized how long it would take us to walk out to the beach. The rain and wind slowed us down, and made each step precarious. Narrow, rural roads my wind their way through the area, but I suspect most who live along these coastal hills have four wheel drive vehicles.
We encountered few other people during our walk. If I had slipped in the mud and broken a bone during our walk, my wife would likely have had to phone for a helicopter. Assuming the people in these cottages were home, I'm sure they would have sheltered us until an ambulance or helicopter arrived. If they weren't home, and the stormy weather interfered with cell coverage, my wife could have tracked down a farmer like Bill, who could have given us a ride back to the main road on his tractor.
While we returned from our trek uninjured, we had not taken food with us, and only a small bottle of water each. We returned to the Visitor Center well past our normal lunch time, and boarded a bus back to Brighton. By the time we found a place to disembark and eat, fatigue and exposure had gotten to us. Both of us caught colds, and my sore throat persisted for weeks.
I imagine the farmers who live here get used to the cold and wet weather. Unlike Bill Mason, they have access to power, fresh water, and nearby grocery stores. So they can concentrate on growing enough food to feed their families, even if they have to take care of a few blind friends too. At least they don't have to worry about fending off the Triffids, or developing an effective pesticide to wipe out the Triffids, whether they have a home laboratory or not. That might not be the most fun, or stress-reducing hobby, they could pursue.
We encountered few other people during our walk. If I had slipped in the mud and broken a bone during our walk, my wife would likely have had to phone for a helicopter. Assuming the people in these cottages were home, I'm sure they would have sheltered us until an ambulance or helicopter arrived. If they weren't home, and the stormy weather interfered with cell coverage, my wife could have tracked down a farmer like Bill, who could have given us a ride back to the main road on his tractor.
While we returned from our trek uninjured, we had not taken food with us, and only a small bottle of water each. We returned to the Visitor Center well past our normal lunch time, and boarded a bus back to Brighton. By the time we found a place to disembark and eat, fatigue and exposure had gotten to us. Both of us caught colds, and my sore throat persisted for weeks.
I imagine the farmers who live here get used to the cold and wet weather. Unlike Bill Mason, they have access to power, fresh water, and nearby grocery stores. So they can concentrate on growing enough food to feed their families, even if they have to take care of a few blind friends too. At least they don't have to worry about fending off the Triffids, or developing an effective pesticide to wipe out the Triffids, whether they have a home laboratory or not. That might not be the most fun, or stress-reducing hobby, they could pursue.
Dragon Dave
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