Just back from a week's holiday in Dorset. Staying in the UK makes you a hostage to the weather and a couple of days were pretty much written off by the rain (in fact there were such Biblical amounts of the stuff on the Sunday that I was going to begin collecting pairs of animals). Of course the big news during the previous few days had been that much of England was caught in a draught - oh, the irony!
Still, generally a nice time was had by all - although sitting in a holiday cottage with a bored toddler is not conducive to a relaxing break!
The day we got there we went to the annual village fete - a few beers, hot dogs, wandering past stalls selling WI cakes and jams, a dancing competition and woodlice racing. All this held in the village's Big House (presumably owned by the squire of the manor). Also of note is Weymouth, which has a rather lovely sweeping beach and the Phoenix bakers that sells the best chocolate brownies.
On one of the days we went to Lyme Regis, one of those places where steep roads lead down into a small harbour town. Driving here is a test for the brakes (down hill) and engine (up hill); rather more trying for the hearts of the pedestrians - must be a bit of concern given the huge number of grey haired retirees who seem to gravitate to the town.
It's got a nice, but small, sandy beach flanked by stretches of sea front covered with cobble sized stones. The sandy beach is bisected by a brick tunnel stretching down to the sea. A small sign at its source warns that this tunnel transports drainage water to the sea - and therefore swimming, paddling and generally playing near its mouth is to be discouraged. Only in England could a perfectly nice beach be deliberately sabotaged with a pipe carrying filthy water.
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