STEEP CLIFFS OVERLOOK Hastings Old Town and the beach immediately east of it. Although there are roads that lead from these parts of Hastings to the rest of the town on top of the cliffs, a more interesting way of travelling between the bottom and the top of the cliffs is by using either the East Hill Lift or the older West Hill Lift. Both are funiculars. We travelled up and down on the West Hill Lift, which travels between the west end of the Old Town and the ruins of Hastings Castle high above on the top of the cliff.
The West Hill Lift (‘WHL’) is 500 feet long and ascends a height of 170 feet, a gradient of 33% (1 in 3). It comprises two tracks, each 6 feet in gauge. It is powered by electricity. The two carriages, which can each hold up to 16 people are raided and lowered along the tracks by steel cables attached to them. They are equipped with a mechanism that automatically applies brakes to the wheels should the cable break. I did not know this when we made a trip up and down the cliff in the creaky old carriages, which are those that were supplied when the system was originally installed.
The construction of the WHL began in 1899 (the year that the Eiffel Tower was built). But it was only completed in 1891, when the cable winders were operated by a gas-powered engine. The funicular system was built by Messrs A H Holme & C W King of Liverpool, who later built the Snowdon Mountain Railway. In 1894, after the Hastings Lift Company went ‘bust’, the WHL was taken over by the Hastings Passenger Lift Company. This company ran it until 1947, when the Lift was bought by Hastings Borough Council. In 1924, the gas engine was replaced by a diesel engine, which was later replaced by an electric motor (in 1971).
Despite having been refurbished in 1991, the WLF still operates with its original 1890s carriages. Admission to these is via an old-fashioned metal turnstile operated by the ticket seller. Apart from looking archaic, a special feature of the WHL is that most of it travels in a brick-lined tunnel burrowed through the cliff. Its neighbour, the East Hill Lift, runs through an uncovered cleft cut in the cliffs. Apparently, few other funiculars in Britain were built, like the WHL, to run through tunnels, and those that were, are no longer in use.
Although Hastings is not nearly as elegant as other British seaside towns such as Eastbourne and Brighton, it is an intriguing place rich in places of historical and visual interest. The existence of the superb Hastings Contemporary art gallery and the two working funiculars adds to the fascination of the place. It is not a place to be ‘sniffed at’.




IN DECEMBER 2005, we spent a Saturday night at a bed and breakfast in a remote spot near Winchelsea in East Sussex. In those days we still had our own car and could stop where we wanted on or even off the route.One of our stopping places was Redhill in Surrey. We wanted to visit its contemporary Roman Catholic church of St Joseph and St Paul’s, but not for religious reasons. The architects, who had designed it, knew that my late uncle WS Rindl, an accomplished structural engineer, was a keen amateur sculptor. They asked him to make some decorative features and a crucifix to adorn the exterior of the church. In addition to the concrete crucifix, my uncle designed and constructed concrete gargoyles to run off rainwater from the roof. Each of these gargoyles is decorated in bas-relief with castings of the tools used by builders and engineers. On one of these drainage spouts there is a representation of what looks as if it were an early rather bulky model of a pocket calculator. The church, completed in 1984, is a lovely example of imaginative 20th century architecture, well worth a detour to see.The rurally located bed and breakfast was housed in a building that was at least 300 years old if not older. The accommodation was comfortable but the breakfast was disappointing. The fried eggs served seemed as if they had been made long before breakfast and kept warm; they were not as fresh as the frost that had coated the surrounding countryside overnight. We made a brief visit to Winchelsea, a place that has always fascinated me. Founded as ‘New Winchelsea’ by King Edward the First in the 13th century, the town was a coastal port, complete with city walls. By the 1520s, what had been a thriving centre of trade declined rapidly because of shifting of the coastline resulting from silting up of its harbour. Apart from some of the town’s mediaeval gateways and the large church of St Thomas the Martyr, it is difficult to imagine that Winchelsea was once a bustling metropolis. The decline of Winchelsea is one of many examples all over the world of how environmental changes can affect the ability of civilisations to thrive. In January 2020, we visited Lakhpat in Kutch, a part of Gujarat in western India. This huge walled city, far greater in size than Winchelsea, was a thriving seaport until the early 19th century when an earthquake caused the sea inlet on which it stood to become transformed into a salty desert. Today, the seven kilometres of intact city walls contain not a city but only a few widely separated dwellings and a Sikh Gurdwara. The church, which dates back to the 13th century, looks large. However, what can be seen today is all that is left of what had once been a far larger cathedral-like building.On the Sunday morning when we entered the church, a service was being held. There was the priest and his congregation of less than eight people, looking a little lost in the huge church. Seeing the three of us entering, he welcomed us, and said in a pleading voice: