5ive or Fewer

The cliff in the image above lies west of the Kent port of Dover and is named after the man who wrote the play, King Lear. When he put his quill to paper around 1609, it was ‘Hay Cliff’ or maybe ‘High Cliff.’ The place where I lived, which is close by, was spelt Ay, then cliff. I’m not sure when this image was made. But as you can see, the holes in the cliff were made for the rails the train runs on in about 1840, so it was after that. Today, rails also run under the cliff and sea to the other side, where the small boats still come from. As you can also see, the local folk fixed their nets and did not see the small boat that put those who came to work on the beach. They and others like them who came long ago went to open banks, made beer, wove cloth, and made and grew other things the local folk had no idea about.

Will, the man with the quill, also wrote a play about a Roman chap who tried to climb a cliff just to the east but was told to go away by local folk with blue paint on their faces. He left and came back a few years later with some mates. They built roads, a villa or two for their hols, and a wall to keep the Scots out. The men with blue faces went on to form the BNP, Man City and other clubs. The Scots came over the wall and went home when they found oil in the far north. Well, you know the rest!

And the small boat folk? They still come—some by legal means, but most by not-so-legal or safe means. But the new man @ gov.uk says he will sort it out.

But it has not been all peace since the Roman chap came. When they left, the blue-faced folk took over. After a few local wars, and some a long way away, the first bomb of World War One and the last of World War Two fell near here. Also, in WWII, large guns would shell us from the other side and hit our homes, which is why my mum and dad went to Wales, where I was born, but not until after the war.

In 1953, Mum and Dad came back to my gran’s house in Dover, where Mum was born in 1911, and I came too. Later, in 1956, we moved to the new home near the White Cliff, where I had a sea view.

From the room where I slept, I could see the coast – where the big guns had been fired. Also, at night, light from the lamps in homes where the folk lived, but not the ones who fired the guns at us!

There has not been a local war since 1945. Now, we fight our wars in other lands, which is much safer (for us). Over the years, other than Suez in Egypt, I think we have won more than we have lost. We have also given back places that we never owned in the first place to the folk that lived there.

Until they built the rail track below the cliff, they built boats on the beach. It’s not the same as the Dover Beach in the poem, by the way. They don’t build them now, but many are found in docks. There used to be a train called the ‘boat train’ until they made the track under the sea to the other side. Now, ships sail from the port to go all over the world just for fun. You can still catch a ferry if you are going on hols or pop over to the other side for some duty-free. In the old days, local folks used to avoid duty on some goods like tea, but now it’s quite cheap at places like Tesco.

Going back to Tudor times, my mum’s dad and his dad used to pilot ships past Dover (both ways). Each pilot had their own flag that flew from the ship’s mast to show they were on board. In the olden times, if a pilot lost a ship, they were put over the cliff’s edge near the White Cliff. I don’t think they did that much after the 1650s. But I know that Mum’s dad’s dad only had one leg!

An item of late news: The folk with blue paint on their faces now wear black masks and play on the right wing.