Wiley comes to the UK – Summer 2018

Neil: it’s well hot

Jay: Might be too hot

Neil: … Might be

The unusually spicy British summer of 2018 brought all the pasty white Brits blinking into the light, like subterranean beings crawling out onto the surface world for the first time. Within that first tentative British blink in the sun, they were desperate for that ripe raspberry sunburn, and by god did they get it. Millions upon millions of balding men, vest wearing lads and sunbathing grannies were soon showing off their sunburn (but soon to be tan) line.

In these crazy times, when temperatures reached 30°C multiple days in a row, not going outside would have made you a social pariah and so after watching everyone lather themselves in sun cream, I did some things. Here are those things.

Camping

Camping is a brilliant activity and I will not acknowledge any views on the contrary. Tents give us a temporary home in the great outdoors where you can wake up with the warmth of the sunrise and sleep to the wind rustling the trees. Shaelei joined me for this last minute trip and we ended up in a beautiful campsite near to the picturesque town of Lewes. This town also had a street food market going on when we arrived, which instantly improved my visitor’s rating tenfold.

Secret Campsite was our campsite of choice and when our local taxi driver drove past it twice we understood why it was named as such. The campsite was composed of two beautiful meadows. Each one had huge camping pitches surrounded by tall grasses and trees, that offer you the privacy you need when you’re cooking out on your open fire. The campsite also has all the amenities such as showers and toilets, but it did feel like the focus here was space to enjoy the wild surroundings of the East Sussex countryside.

Tim, the owner and all round nicest man we had ever met, helped us with any questions and even drove us back to Lewes when no taxis wanted to take us at the end of our trip.

One fateful day, we decided to go for a walk despite the incredible heat, and after grabbing a map from Tim, we headed out. Little did we know that finding the pub-shaped destination would not be easy peasy lemon squeezy, in fact it was difficult difficult lemon difficult.

First, we tried the well-known old railway track that would take us to the nearest village where we thought the pub was. Now, being a Gas Mark 7 of a day, Shaelei was already simmering with an underlying rage she reserves for being too hot. However, once we found out the railway track was completely overgrown with every stinging and thorny plant, the simmer turned into a boil. We retreated, nursing a few stings while I simultaneously tried to convince Shaelei that this was not the end of the world. Nevertheless, I was certain that I had already put her off camping forever.

We went back to Tim and duly he told us we were fools (not horses), which was probably for the best because calling Shaelei a horse at that moment may have resulted in grievous bodily harm. And so, with new information we set off another way, through a beautiful woodland area and emerging out into farmland. We asked directions from lovely farmer and felt our confidence grow, and I felt my fear that Shaelei might implode with rage dissipate. Once we reached the village however, it was clear that we were in the wrong place. Nevertheless, pushing on, trespassing a few times and walking along dangerous roads, we found an arrow-straight wide path that took us directly to the pub. It was as if God had seen our struggle and had pathed the way to a pint and some food. If there is any way to convert me to religion that’s it.

The pub (The Anchor Inn) was actually somehow worth battling the heat and the hanger, because it was a beautiful little house next to a serene river. If we hadn’t hacked our way through an endless mesh of weeds to get there, then we probably would have gone boating. This was available throughout the summer and it looked idyllic. But as it was, we wanted food and we wanted it now. My beer battered fish and chips was up there with the best of all time and a pudding gave us the much-needed sugar boost to even contemplate starting the walk back.

The walk back to our temporary home was much easier and Shaelei was 10x happier. Especially once we made a detour to buy some lamb and curry sauce from a farm shop which, after a little perseverance with the flint and tinder, we cooked on the open fire.

That night, full of curry, we sat by the fire until we ran out of logs. And as the sun set, the brilliance of the Milky Way was visible as a streak of burning celestial luminescence through the inky darkness.

Lulworth

Despite being only 40 minutes away from the beautiful Dorset coast I don’t go nearly as much as I would like to. I have explored plenty of southern Dorset and know it very well, but this time, heading there with my mum and (*edit* now ex) girlfriend, it would be new experience. We planned on walking from the abandoned village of Tyneham to Lulworth and back.

The route is a little up and down thanks to the undulating white cliffs, which at first, proved a little daunting for the townie among us. But after reaching the top of the first one all was well and we focussed on the stunning scenery. We reached Lulworth and everyone was shattered, while I was a little gutted we didn’t explore more of the coves, but one thing I wasn’t disappointed by was grabbing some fish and chips in Lulworth. I needed that. The walk back was less successful all round. My mum’s knee completely gave up on the way back down one of the big hills, and so we had to take a shortcut back to the road to get picked up. This shortcut was through the army firing range and private property, so luckily we didn’t stand on any unexploded ordinance or get attacked by any pitchfork wielding farmers. In fact, the one famer we saw, when asked if it was ok to come through her farm, just turned away and walked off. Taking that as an unwavering yes, we continued to the road. A good day all round.

New forest road trip

A drive to the coast one weekend with my mum turned into an unplanned all-day road trip around the New Forest. Heading down to the sea we stopped for photos in verdant valleys and tiny villages we had never visited. When we eventually got to where we wanted to be, it turned out that a whole stretch of the coastline, where the forest meets the sea, is privately owned. So, cursing capitalism we turned tail and headed home, but not before stopping to see the sunset over the valley near my village. Here are some of the photos from that day.

Final Thoughts

Since you made it this far, I think its only fair to explain the title of this post, to those not well versed in the pop/grime scene of 2012. Wiley the “Godfather of Grime” happened to make a song by the name of ‘Heatwave‘ six years ago, and owing to the considerable heat felt in the UK this summer, I thought it only appropriate to make a nod to Wiley that I’m sure he appreciates. He literally says he’s causing a heatwave. I’m not sure how he does it, maybe he’s the second coming? In that case he should change his name to the “Messiah of music” but he can talk to my legal team about that when the news breaks. And while it’s impressive that he can meddle in such things so flippantly, it was slightly irresponsible.

However, despite Wiley’s antics, I loved the heat of this summer. It made a welcome change and meant I could spend more time outside catching some rays. Swimming in the river, getting lost in the countryside and eating marshmallows on a campfire are things that I think everyone should experience. And even though I was envious of those travelling abroad, there is still lots of fun to be had closer to home, you’ve just got to go out and find it.