Lyme Regis

20th October

Today, I look out of the window onto a dull autumn day. I hate that we're heading towards more darker days and shorter nights.

And why does the winter always seem such a long season, unbearably long sometimes? What happens to time? 

But today, the leaves on the trees, glorious in all their beauty, are  presenting me with a rich aura of colour - browns, reds, oranges, yellows , a little green left too.

 

And so, this season redeems itself for me a little, coming as we are to the end of the year, when everything is dying off, but here nature says a farewell with splendid grandeur. 

The grey skies I'm looking at out of my study ( bedroom with makeshift desk) window, remind me of our camping holiday in the summer and the day we were leaving Princetown. So the following is from my journal from that time.

27th July 2020

The mist is still thick over Princetown so we decide to move on, to set off for Lyme Regis, maybe the sun is shining there. 

I'd like to stay longer, there's so much more we'd like to do,  but we've been here for two nights in the mist and, quite honestly, we're just fed up. Shivering, I take my bowl, the small red one, now full of our breakfast dishes and mugs,  to wash them, for the last time, in the outside wash area.  My socks feel  damp in my trainers, as do the rest of my clothes, the mist seeping through everything in it's path. I look forward to getting warm and drying out sometime today. 

The drive out of the moors is stunning. Although my view across the great expanse of moorland is limited, I encounter rivers ( the Dart being one) , waterfalls, and wild horses with their foals. One day I'll be back  , I mutter to myself as my eyes scan through the grey for more surprises. 

The drizzle shows no sign of letting up, so instead of taking a detour to places of interest, we head straight for Lyme Regis. I'm not sure how I feel about going back. This is the place we always wanted to retire to, the place where we had the best holidays when the children were little. It was many years ago now, but, It was our dream. Life took us down a different path , as it does, but I'm  not sure I'm over that longing.

We're about an hour and a half away and we discover now that the bad weather wasn't just hovering over the moors. I phone Kate to get the forecast for the afternoon in Lyme Regis. Mainly showers with a few sunny spells later. I hope that "later" is while we're there.  Kate also says that there'll be no change in this weather until next week. Right what shall we do then. We had intended to camp for a few nights, but if it's going to be miserable.

"Let's go anyway," I say, "It might brighten up for a few hours. Be a shame to drive past as we're so near."

"I'm glad you said that," hubby is relieved, "I really want to go."

We drive on, but not for long . Soon we have to stop for the proverbial comfort break. As we pull into the services I can't believe what I see. A long line, a queue of people stood outside, going right the way to the car park. 

At first I think there must be a fire drill or something, but no, it's definitely an orderly row, all waiting to go in, some with masks on, few however keeping the 2mt distance.  What's all that about, as if wearing a mask is the answer to everything. It is the governments emphasis now though. 

First it was    -        Wash your hands

Secondly       -        Stay at home

Next              -         Keep two meters apart

Now              -         Wear a mask

Common sense tells me it's a combination of all the above that's the best way. Like sheep we join the line. And to be fair, it's not long before we're herded, (yes herded not headed) into the food halls, where I can see another queue for the toilets. Obediently we join it. Again it's fast moving, and it's not long before there are only twelve ladies in front of me. 

But wait! It's then that I spot it. A disabled toilet. Is no one going to use it? Why not, I wonder? At that point what I should is was push ahead and go and use it. No, I am timid, I  hold back. When my turn finally comes I use it and when I come out I tell a mother waiting with her young son that it's free and she should use it. She does. It just seems madness to me to have a long queue waiting for the toilets and one free, not being used. If someone comes along who has greater need we can all, of course, step back, no problem, but with huge queues and, possibly, desperate folk watching the line,  it's quite odd.

After this unpleasant experience we are relieved( no pun intended) to be driving on again. 

Arriving in Lyme Regis cars sliding  through the streets and pedestrians dressed in raincoats and wellies, and holding their umbrellas , it's like a scene from a Lowrie painting. But hey, we find a car park. It's busy and yes, we have to wait again. I'm thinking , is this worth it? 

"Come on," says hubby, "for old time's sake" 

So, for "old time's sake" I find my wellies, my lovely Burberry pair, the height of fashion a few years back.

   I put my wellies on, my trainers are still soaked through form the boggy moor.  They'll take a while to dry out. 

The harbour holds fond memories of when our two older children were small, deep in concentration together, the four of us, securing bacon into crabbing nets and slowly lowering them into the water. The patience needed while crabs find their way to the bait was sometimes too much for the two of them and oftentimes they'd want to haul up the line. They soon learnt that you have to give it time. One time they even showed another  family how to "do it properly". 

Another activity we all loved, mainly on Charmouth Beach a few miles down the coast, was fossil hunting. When the sun didn't shine enough for a lazy beach day we'd get our raincoats on and spend hour after hour searching for fossils. There was an art to the finding of fossils. Sometimes we had to break open the stones and find ammonites and bellamites, creatures who lived long ago. And we did find some. That's what kept them coming back for more. We loved to go into the Fossil Shop and see what we might be able to find. We did buy a handy book on fossils there early on. That book got very tatty over the years. 

Today, I have a little tear as we find the Fossil Shop still there. Unfortunately it's closed because of Covid. We walk past the houses that we remember and that we dreamed of living in.

The rain is coming down harder and just as I think we'll have to make our way back to the car, I spot a shop that sells gluten free Cornish Pasties. We tried all over Cornwall to find a gluten free pasty for Peter with no luck and now, in Lyme Regis we find one. Ten minutes later, with a pasty each we search for somewhere to eat them where we won't get wet. 

"That'll do" he points to a covered  archway . It isn't ideal, but it's sheltered enough.  Licking our lips, we enjoy our pasties.

We don't hang around and soon are saying goodbye to Lyme Regis and I think, I love where we live, I'm glad we didn't move here.

Our holiday is over. We decide to head for home.

But what a great time we had, even if it was in Covid times.   

Yellow Rose

1st March 2018

Today is St David's day, the patron saint of Wales. How is it that we are already in March? Oh well, time is forever unfolding our lives for us .







I am joining in with the six sentence story this week, having been out of action for a while. Lost my mojo a bit ... The prompt is the word, "Transfer"
Anyway, all of my visitors from across the globe, let me know how you are and what's happening in your place.. 


 Yellow Rose

It had been a long , cold winter with weeks of snow that had stayed around for over a month and this March morning was showing the first signs of a promise of change for the better, with a few crocuses dotted about.
Lucy sat at the kitchen table, cup of tea cradled in her hands , her body gently being warmed by the easterly sun, while she gazed out at her small garden and itched  to get out there and start tidying up.
So, putting on  her wellies , she threw open the door and marched down to the shed where she rooted around for her gardening gloves, a spade, secateurs and, most importantly, her kneeling cushion.
Now, all  ready,  she began to dig a hole under the kitchen window where she intended  to transfer her yellow rose bush, which she had been desperate to move since the end of last summer and which in her mind should have been there all along.
Lucy worked on the hard ground, standing upright  every now and again to take a breather until she had reached a foot down,  when all of a sudden the spade stuck something, which, at first Lucy thought was a large stone, but when she bent down to investigate she was taken by surprise and fell to her knees, mouth open.
What could it mean,  she pondered as slowly she removed dark earth from what she now could see was a bone, a human bone, probably an arm and were there any others buried with it?

A Rainy Saturday

24th September

A little capturing of one day in the week that we looked after five grandchildren.

And Then Came The Rain

For weeks there’d been gorgeous weather, temperatures comparable with the Mediteranean.                      Day after day waking up to a blue sky, early morning sunshine warming the earth of the new dawn.                                                                                                                                                          Day after day washing drying outside, with a slight breeze on occasions to help it along, with  the song of the robin in the background.                                                                                                                    Day after day lazy picnics on the beach and keeping cool swimming in the sea.                                                                                         

Then, on Saturday, black clouds descended over Blackberry Way, bringing wind and torrential rain to wash away the summer.  Five little faces pressed noses against patio windows and peered out.  Grandma and Grandad wondered how they were going to entertain them.  It was six thirty am; they’d eaten scrambled eggs, they'd had stories, and  now were asking what they could do. The grandparents thought about the cinema, but apart from the age range of the children making it difficult, there was the cost. It was money too that was inhibitive when they considered the swimming pool and the children’s play center.  

So that’s how the grandparents happened to be walking by the sea with five little  grandchildren in wellies and raincoats, on that blustery day.  The parents,  having gone on holiday for a week,  had left the children with their, “more than capable” grandparents.  It was now only day three and it wasn’t the children who were counting the sleeps till the return of mum and dad.  They watched the children running across the shingle, arms waving and shouting into the wind looking as if they might take off at any moment and soar into the dark sky.                                                                                                                                                           “Tastes like salty,” Lily- Mae laughed, licking her lips as sea spray wet her little face.                             

Granddad had told them that they could walk along the edge of the sea in their wellies but they were not to get water inside them. Well, with waves crashing in and their excitement mounting it’s no surprise that they were soon all soaked to the skin.

“Hey, grandma, look,” Cohen pointed up to a group of kite surfers skimming on the high winds over the ocean.  Five open mouths stared up in their direction.  Walking further along the beach they spotted a lone a kite surfer preparing to go up.  For the best part of thirty minutes grandparents and grandchildren were mesmerised as they watched him assemble his kite.                                                                                                                 

“What’s he doing?” asked Lily-Mae, over and over again.                                                                             “He’s making his kite so he can fly it, like those ones you see up there, look,” Grandad repeated patiently.They all cheered as the kite surfer finally took off and rather tentatively rose to join his companions in the clouds.

It wasn’t long before the children got cold and it was time to go home.

After a change of clothes, they all had a mug of hot chocolate and some hot, buttery toast ,while they sat around the table, writing  and drawing pictures about their adventure to show  mum and dad when they got home.

And Annie said,

“That was the most bestest day ever since you came to stay Grandma.”