Lulworth Monday

I hadn't visited Lulworth Cove, on the Dorset coast, for twenty-seven years, and Steve had never set foot on those shores. Our plan was to visit Lulworth Castle if the weather remained wet, or frolic on the beach if it cheered up. Fortunately the latter came to pass. After spotting a hare disporting itself in a field on the way (CleanSteve blipped it) we arrived at last at the harbour, famous for its horseshoe shape and air of prettiness. I had not expected to find a visitor centre, but the lovely couple we'd befriended at the comfortable B&B in Dorchester had warned us about the excessive parking charges, and tipped us off about where to eat.

The general air of ruin was a surprise. I'd seen how the cliffs had collapsed around Burton Bradstock and Charmouth a few years ago, but here the issue is erosion as well as landslip potential. Several small buildings appeared to have collapsed, and CleanSteve was told by another visitor about a house quite close to the edge that has only a year's occupancy left in it.

After wandering along the shore and watching a dog delight in leaping to catch a long strand of seaweed thrown to it by its owner, I took to the cliffs. The coastal paths were fenced off, for obvious reasons, but I recalled a snapshot taken by TMLHereandThere (who else?) of our mother perched on a rock above this very bay, looking rather like Queen Victoria, in a purplish tweed suit. That would have been on our only family holiday abroad as a complete family. (I say 'complete family', meaning that by this time our father was long gone, but all my mother and father's joint children were born; Tanya and Nicky were already married, but joined us, accompanied by my youngest sister, aged 10, who was often mistaken for their daughter). On this holiday we drove from Argyll to Brittany, via the Lake District, the Cotswolds (Birdlip) and Weymouth. It was, to the newly spiky-haired 18-year-old me, as exciting as air travel to Spain would have been in the 1960s.

But I digress, quelle surprise! I did manage a complete panoramic shot of the horseshoe bay and houses beyond, but on balance I prefer this one because it shows some of the recent devastation, as well as human activity on the beach in February. As it was half term, there were plenty of family visitors, looking for pebbles to throw or take home; walking dogs; and splashing in cold waters.

My uncle A, who served with the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, reads my blips via Facebook, has contributed the following historical memory:

"Memories for me too. I did opposed beach landings off landing craft there in 1960 - 55 years ago!
We were arriving by sea, disembarking from landing craft and attacking a defended coastline under enemy fire. Imagine a D-Day type operation. Technically we were attacking Lulworth Cove, representing a putative enemy coastline while the Welsh Guards fought us off. Off course all ammunition was blank and thunder flashes represented grenades. But very realistic with flares going up, the sound of rifle and machine-gun fire interspersed with the bangs of the thunder flashes and major explosions where gun-cotton blew up the ground to simulate shells landing and landmines exploding made quite a racket. About as close as you could get to the real thing without killing people! Great fun when you're young."

"When I took my wife there to show her about 20 years ago I could not believe what a tiny village had turned into."



Later, we headed away from Thomas Hardy's Lulstead Cove inland to Southover, where CleanSteve's friend P took us to Cerne Abbas giant (I discovered that the celebrated tool was smaller I than expected!) and to the village of Cerne Abbas, which houses the remains of an old priory, and an older healing well. The bushes around it are strewn with prayer rags, and the well is said to have the properties of clearing the eyesight. The water comes straight from a spring in the ground. This is a beautiful, fern-filled spot, situated well below the long, narrow churchyard studded with mossy gravestones.

Whereas during my working life I struggle to find one acceptable image to blip, on holiday I often feel is too bad that I can only blip one part of my multi-layered day. Thus it was today.