NOTHE FORT

We went to a fort yesterday. I like an old fort or a castle, stepping back into history, peering through rough hewn arrow slits and gun barrels.

I’d had a dream the previous night that had unsettled me: watching a friend slip out of my grip into a canyon. It was a bit like the movie Cliffhanger, but not quite so dramatic. Even so, I didn’t feel like getting too close to the edge of the ramparts.

Nothe Fort juts out into the sea, a semi-circular battlement that was used for centuries to defend the bay against enemy ships. From war against the French, to spotting ironclad German vessels and planes, the fort was practically impenetrable.

I walked round the battlements at the top, the wind roaring and fluttering the flags above me. There were anti-aircraft guns, painted the thick green of World War II. There was a huge 6” cannon, and positions for smaller rapid far weapons. Built into the rock were smart, square ammunition cupboards, and giant hooks for chains that once tethered Victorian 64 pounders. At one time or other, this place was thunderous with noise.

The wind rushed. Below, the gentle chink of cutlery and chatter, and a small speaker playing marching band music. The sea, stretching out to the horizon was peaceful and free, with only fishing boats and pleasure yachts. We live in very different times.