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Two years ago, Justin Ingram was looking to escape the London rat race. After several weekends away in Sussex, it was not a difficult choice to relocate to the south coast. With a background in interiors, Justin’s entrepreneurial spirit led him to set up a new business, The Blind Shop. We met up with him to find out more.

“With the rise of the internet, people have become a lot more savvy and know a good deal when they see one. I felt that there was a gap in the market for an online business offering modern, made-to measure-blinds at really low prices.”

“There are endless choices in blinds and this can be really confusing for customers, so we’ve carefully developed a range to suit any interior. This not only makes it easy for customers but it also means we can keep our prices low as we don’t need to keep loads of different blinds in stock.”

The Blind Shop specialises in wood venetians but also offers a range of metal venetians, roller blinds and black-out blinds to complement. Their wood venetians come with fabric tapes rather than strings. “We think this gives a contemporary and luxurious look” Justin says. “We can offer them at an amazing price because we don’t have the overheads of high street shops”.

The Blind Shop is essentially an online business with a showroom in Shoreham. They’ve recently introduced a free measuring service and a low cost fitting service for their local Sussex customers. “As we’re located in Sussex, it made perfect sense to offer these added services and they’ve been an instant success.”

“We want to get to a point where if someone thinks of blinds, they think of The Blind Shop”. It seems that with the success so far, it won’t be long before this becomes true.

The Blind Shop, Unit C8 Dolphin Enterprise Centre, Dolphin Road, Shoreham BN43 6QB
Tel: 0845 6800645

Daniel Frickelton’s guide to the finest golf courses in Sussex. This month Rustington Golf Centre

The summer golfing season has been unusual for a variety of reasons, not least among them that we have not had to interrupt a round of golf due to wet or extreme weather even once all season, amazing when you consider the tiny number of sunshine days we have enjoyed between May and September in our grassy isles. So unaccustomed was I to even thinking about such trivia as weather conditions that I nearly forgot to bring my club cover along to Rustington, and when the Sussex winter weather finally defeated my protective charm and began to unload its pent up fury on me as I practised my putting, I struggled to remember how to attach the damned thing…so many snaps! I made a dash for the shelter of the pagoda adjacent to the first tee where my playing partners, the Golf Goddess and BB (a.k.a. Big Boy, Boyd Brain, and Bunker Bait) were huddled against the storm.

The nice people at Rustington G C had prepared us for possible delays because we were teeing off on the heels of a morning Texas Scramble tournament. Golfus interruptus is an insidious malignancy, resembling Coitus interruptus in significant ways, but far more damaging to your golf score. The scramblers ahead played at their own snail’s pace and we scrambled…to stay warm and loose. Course Marshall Pete did his admirable best to ride herd on his sluggish dogies*. By the time we had reached the tenth, we had left the scramblers behind, the sun was shining wanly but warmly, and life was good. The boys at Rustington have a great attitude about golf: they want us to have more of it, and they want us to enjoy it. It therefore came as no surprise when Pete assured us that they were currently working on new scramble rules for future tournaments.

It’s amazing how many decent golfers love a testing 9-hole course, and Rustington G C is a sparkling example of the type. Tight lies, tantalising pin positions and a full array of hazards on this pretty 2774 yd course (5548 yds for eighteen off the yellows) guarantee a truly enjoyable round of golf whatever your skill level. Better golfers will benefit from playing this visually pleasing and technically challenging parkland course. Every hole offers its unique problems and pleasures. For example, take a driver off the 480 yd first, but not if you are a congenital slicer: this will put you out of bounds on the right, and you will now struggle to make par on this otherwise generous par 5 hole. Far better to do as one of the boys in the Rustington pro shop does to guarantee a par on the first hole: he whacks three seven irons from tee to green and two-putts for his five. That’s using your head rather than more southerly body regions to make golf decisions. If you managed to hit a truly great drive, your next decision will be whether to lay up in front of the small lake guarding the green or to try and put it up there in two. Decisions, decisions… Everyone has a favourite hole at Rustington. This is one of ours, but find your own and tell us about it.

Considering the ferocity of the cloudburst which preceded our round, the course was playing magnificently. Most other golf courses are using temporary tees and greens at this time of year, and some are so covered in fallen leaves that it can prove well nigh impossible to find your ball even when you think you know exactly where it ended up. It can be difficult for addicts to cultivate their habit, and there are too many excuses for staying on the sofa during the winter months. Sound familiar? Rustington will make you smile, addicts. Their greens conform to the high standards of the USGA, and as we discovered on this wet November day, even large amounts of water drain quickly away from greens and fairways. This is quite simply one of the best courses to play in the winter time. But don’t take my word for it: go and see for yourself… and don’t forget to check out the pro shop while you’re there. Speaking of which…

If Carlsberg did pro shops, they would probably all be like Rustington G C. Manager James Latter and his capable, friendly crew must have the best selection of golf gear, clothing and accessories on the south coast. I recently bit the bullet and decided to retire my old driver. James quickly ascertained that I would benefit from a model with slightly more loft, provided me with several suitable options and with all the free range balls I needed to get familiar with each on Rustington’s covered, flood-lit, all swinging, all glancing state-of-the-art multi-bay driving range. No pressure, just friendly expertise and a fair trade in price for my traitorous old driver. Ka-ching went James’ till, and down went my scores the next couple of times I went out with my new stick. But then James’ surname, Latter, means “laughter” in Danish (you probably thought I was just another Bunker Brain), and by the look of it at Rustington G C he surely has plenty to be laughing about. Get on out there and find out why.

Dogie = Western American and Canadian word meaning “motherless calf”.

Andrew Kay discovers that he may be a pheasant plucker at The New Inn in Hurstpierpoint

I have always loved the notion of dining on road kill. Notoriously there is a US diner with the motto ‘Straight From your Grill to Ours’. Many years ago I spent an idyllic evening at the home of Eric Newby and his wonderful wife Vanda. Vanda, a women of some years, had prepared a casserole for dinner made of something she had knocked down a few weeks before and dragged into the boot of her car. It was delicious. After the main course she asked if we would like a salad, we all nodded and before we knew it she had donned wellingtons and an overcoat and headed off into the snow covered garden. She returned, rosy cheeked, with an armful of what some would describe as weeds which she then washed, tossed and dressed with excellent oil and vinegar. Later we had home made chocolate ice-cream. It was a memorable evening in the company of one literary great and one culinary one.

Game of course is reasonably easy to come by in Sussex and pheasants have that kamikaze instinct too, wandering in front of the Skoda with gay abandon. Several did this as I motored out to Hurstpierpoint and The New Inn.

‘‘Game is reasonably easy to come by in Sussex, pheasants have that kamikaze instinct, wandering in front of the Skoda with abandon’’

The New Inn is refreshingly old, restored yes, but with a delicate hand. The look is a bit ‘Farrow & Ball’ but it seems appropriate. It was a chilly day and inside the wood fire was throwing out loads of heat and also that inimitable smell. We lost that for years under the fug of tobacco but now it’s back – hoorah!

I wasted no time in ordering a pint of Harvey’s shandy, I would have loved a pint of pure ale but common sense tells me to keep to the shandy, especially at lunchtime. I placed my food order at the bar and found a dark corner in which to hide.

Now I am a great lover of eating alone. I am happy with my own company, and especially if I have good food to indulge in.

Before long I had a deep bowl of vermillion hued tomato and basil soup with chickpeas. It was rather good and piping hot with just enough pulses lurking in the depths to make it a substantial dish but not too many to spoil me for my main course.

For main I chose pheasant, not because I love pheasant, in fact I don’t much like it. It’s like this; too many times have I been served vile pheasant stew made by smart Chelsea totty, daughter of, or married to, weekend-gun-toting man. How they can manage to make wet stew with breast meat as dry as a witches mammary beggars belief, but believe me they can – almost to a matron. It’s inevitably mined with lead shot too.

Quite often I fail to get to dessert but on this occasion I did and very glad I am too. Panacotta needs trying. It needs to waver between a jelly and a junket. It needs to be delicate, bordering on bland and it doesn’t need messing with. This did the job, wibbled politely, enjoyed its dressing of sweet berries and slipped down a treat. A biscuit on the side took me back to childhood memories of melting moments, crisp rice flour biscuits made by my mum. Ahh, soppy old fool I hear you say.

To say that the New Inn performed well would be understatement but to say more would belittle the fact that this place seems to be set on serving good but delightfully understated food. There’s little pretence, both in the cooking and the charming service – and the prices are earthly rather than astronomical. I managed to park easily too, that was heavenly.

The New Inn, 74-76 High Street, Hurstpierpoint, West Sussex, 01273 834608

Building Opinions with Robert Stuart Nemeth

It’s hard to imagine Brighton having three piers at once when today it can’t even handle two.

Photo: Nigel Swallow. For an excellent selection of West Pier images log on to brightonphotography.com

The Chain Pier opened in 1823 by New Steine as principally a landing platform for large vessels. It closed in 1896 after having been declared unsafe but was then destroyed in a massive storm that same year. The West Pier opened in 1866 as a promenade pier though it was to change much over the years. The Palace Pier opened in 1899 though work actually commenced in 1889. So, for several years up to the destruction of the Chain Pier, there were three piers in Brighton. Admittedly, one wasn’t exactly complete. Hopefully, the term ‘Palace Pier’ has not confused any readers. The Palace Pier’s current owners, the Noble Organisation, are currently calling it ‘Brighton Pier’.

“As a point of principle, I struggle to understand how a Grade I Listed building can be treated so badly. Heads should roll”

I wish that I had paid more attention to the West Pier before the fires, It was/is one of only two Grade I Listed piers in the country; the other being Clevedon Pier. As a point of principle, I struggle to understand how a Grade I Listed building can be treated so badly. Heads should roll. It was opened by the mayor at the time, Henry Martin at a cost of £27,000 and a length of 1,115 feet. Its large pavilion was added in 1893 which was converted into a theatre in 1903. It was cut in half in 1940 to prevent enemy landings and then never really recovered. Richard Attenborough’s great film, Oh! What a Lovely War, was filmed there but it still closed in 1975. Fires in March and May 2003 reduced the Pier to just a skeletal frame and a storm in June 2004 led to its sad collapse.

Birch built his first pier in Margate in 1853 and went on to design others in Eastbourne, Bournemouth and Hastings – a total of 14, in fact.

His piers were fixed to the sea bed using his patented cast-iron screw-piles. He died in 1884 as one of the finest engineers of the Victorian era.

This column is intended as the first in a series that will hopefully end with some good news. I have been discussing with a responsible local builder his plans for a new West Pier. His proposal, unlike previous suggestions, contains no view-spoiling shore development. Watch this space for more news soon…