Sussex in words: Across the Weald

This is another in the ‘Sussex in words’ blog series, taking evocative passages to show some of the ways in which the county is captured in words, their meanings often close in sensibility to Ireland’s way of thinking about the downland landscape he loved so well.

Puppeteer Walter Wilkinson’s A Sussex Peep-Show, introduced in a blog post earlier this year, is full of little gems such as this:

A sheltered bay among the bushes invited comfortable camping, and we set the tent, laying our beds over the thick grass and the fragrant thyme. From the tent door, across the edge of the Down, we looked out to the Weald, over all the trees and woods of Sussex, the great plain receding into the misty line of the North Downs. Nothing disturbed the immense serenity; we were in the heavens, looking down on a toy, miniature world that was all beauty, and light, and colour, a world of loveliness in which all men might live had they but the good taste to embrace it.

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