Lyme Regis - Day 2

You want breakfast? First catch your meat.
Looking east down Chesil Beach. That wedge-shaped land in the distance is Portland - where we are heading. There is a nice wreck dive at the end of this beach; the Royal Adelaide (probably torpedoed when it was discovered that there were a load of colonial crims trying to sneak back in). The local council has this to say about it; 'This 1,500 ton iron clad clipper got into trouble in 1872 due to either fog obscuring the light from Portland Lighthouse or because the lighthouse wasn't actually lit. The Adelaide was broken up, due to a storm, on the beach with a loss of seven lives. Many were saved by the efforts of the coastguard and locals who put their own lives at risk to save others. The story doesn't end here though as it was established that the Adelaide was carrying, amongst other things, a cargo of rum, brandy and gin. Many locals looted the cargo, got extremely drunk on Chesil Beach and died of hypothermia. This wreck is largely broken up but still an interesting dive.'
The Royal Marines were letting the public abseil off Portland lighthouse for charity. If I had a bit more time, I would have had a go.
Pretty important lighthouse this on an awful part of the coast if you are a ship.
It's so craggy here, you need a crane to launch and recover the boats. Portland is where Portland stone comes from - and you're looking at it. Oh, and the people who live on Portland are seriously barmy.
Looking back along Chesil Beach from Portland itself. Weymouth is across the water on the right and HMS Osprey is down in front. I only mention the naval base because I once had occasion to ask for a helicopter from here. A couple of female divers were given a map but without instructions how to rotate it. They got lost and the Royal Navy found them for us - sitting on a rock. Later that weekend they headed back to London and ended up in Brussels.
Maiden Castle is just outside Dorchester. The ancient Britons were there, the Romans were there, and now, so are we. Originally built as a devensive enclosure, the Romans would have made short work of it. They used it as a base to develop Dorchester itself (any place name ending in -chester is of sure fire Roman origin). Unfortunately, it's not very photogenic from the ground which is why I put up this aerial photo.
See what I mean about photogenic. You've got to imaging the mounds about half as high again, the trenches a lot deeper and wooden ramparts along the high bits. A little easier to imagine is a load of English hooligans standing behind the wall throwing rocks, spears and empty (of course) beer bottles at you. You can get a similar experience today by wearing a red shirt at the White Hart Road end when Spurs are at home to Arsenal.
A dificult location to maintain, they've deployed these Kiwi-magnets to keep the grass down.
Stopped in Sherborne for lunch - self-styled as one of the prettiest towns in England - and they have a point, there are some really beautiful buildings here. Sadly, this pub isn't one of them. It certainly looks OK from the outside but things are not all they seem. This is one of those awful 'English Fayre' manufactured pubs that has somehow managed to strip out a perfectly good building and make a complete pigs breakfast of it. If there ever was a case for taking marketing out and putting them against the wall, this is it. American tourists love these places, of course, but the food was OK, if a little ordinary, and who can tell what the 'antiques' strewn about the place were supposed to tell us about the history of the building? At least maccas is what it appears to be.
That's better; Sherborne Cathedral. And very nice it is too. I haven't really done this town justice but it is worth dropping in to on any journey from London to the West Country.

Lyme Regis - Day 1

We went away for the weekend to Lyme Regis, famous for French Lieutenant's Woman (location of), fossils (mostly from the Jurassic period - no, not the movie one, the real one), and being cute. Lyme Regis is on the south coast of England in Dorset, just outside Devon and is, therefore, in one of the most picturesque parts of the country.

On the way out of Waterloo Station we went past the Battersea Power Station. Art deco, and all that, it's featured on the cover of Pink Floyd's album 'Animals'.
Hired this baby in Yeovil for the trip.
Dropped in to the tiny village of Bradpole on the way to visit the church. Why, dear reader, would I visit a church, after all that trouble last time with the shattered windows and the desecration? To see the rellies, that's why.
Here's grandma and grandad. The inscription reads 'In loving memory of John Francis Nolan died 23rd Dec 1974 aged 65 years devoted husband of Mary Mildred Nolan (Mills) 27th October 1907 - 14th November 1984'.
And look who's next door.
So, this is the story... When John (known as Jack), my grandfather, died the grave was dug deeper than your usual 6 feet so that there would be room for Mary (known as Molly), my grandmother, on top when it was her turn. A couple of years later, Roy's wife, Dorothy breathed her last and they did the same and their plot was next door because, although there was a couple of years between the funerals, Bradpole is a small place and nobody (so as to speak) managed to slip in between them. Time passed and Roy and Molly took a shine to each other, as oldies do. While I'm not about to speculate on geriatric shenanigans, their marriage would certainly have helped out financially and for companionship. One day, while watching her favorite soap, Molly just stopped and, as planned, took her place on top of Jack. When Roy did some 5 years later - yeah, he saw the lot of them off - he took his place with Dorothy.

And there they all are together. I just hope they all get on.

We're in deep West Country. Hereabouts is the land of cider and cream teas but the really, really best thing about this place is that they all talk like pirates. Yes, pirates!

And so, dear reader, shall we. Arrrr.

The tiny port of West Bay. Many's the time I've weighed me anchor in these parts for some grog and to mix it with the laaaarnd lubbers.
Here's a lubber, now. She'll be whinging about the beach, then. Arrrr.
This ere vessel may not look loike much but, she, or one loike her, used to take me doiving fraaaam this very port.
15 men on a dead-man's chest yohoho and a nice guest house.
Oi caaaarn't go too far from moi mistress, the sea.
Avast ye scurvies - and relax in our comfortable guest house lounge.

Right, enough of the pirate talk...

Lyme town centre. This is a pretty old place so it's got the higgledy-piggledy little street look about it.
And pubs. So many pubs.
Typical sea-front strip for the area. Developed over time, the age and styles are all different, shades are pastel, and balconies are rounded.
Shot of the sea-front with harbour defences. Lyme is not a natural harbour so everything you see was put here by people over the centuries.
Ah, beach huts. A good old English seaside tradition. You rent these by the day / week and the whole family troops down every day to sit outside it. You can keep your clothes, towels and chairs inside along with, most importantly, the kettle. Granny makes the tea, the kids swim and make sandcastles, and the parents, if they have any sense, are checking out the local hostelries.
We were lucky enough to arrive for RNLI Week (a charity close to the heart of anone who gets out on or under the water) so there was lots going on. By far the best event is the bathtub race across the harbour - and, I should think, better if you're in it.
There can be a lot of effort that goes into the bathtubs.
Probably more for the sheer fun of it all rather than to see the Town Crier (every town's got one) ....
... and claim your prize.
Meanwhile, the RNLI kept a watchful presence.
A bit of a crowd-pleaser.
Likewise.
After the efforts of the day, it's time to sit down for some well-earned grub.
So, where's MY dinner, then?
Found this during an after-dinner aperitif. I reckon the brewery had a beer ready to go and marketing had two liveries - this one and one for if we had won.

Day Out with Linda

Met up with my mate Linda, from work back home. Had lunch in this great area of Covent Garden, called Neales Yard.

Very Colourful cafes.
Linda.
Me and Linda - was so great to see a face from back home.
This is for Nicole - went to this art/card supplies shop, called The Paper Chase - as Linda needed a special card - amazing.
Art supplies - Nicole could spend a day here.

London Zoo - The Zoo

The day we went was pretty hot - so most of the animals were sleeping or hiding out. Kim, despite several polite requests on my part, refused to jump into a number of enclosures with a pointy stick to get the lions and stuff into better photography positions. Blame not, the photographer, dear reader - it was all the assistant's fault...

Funky Gibbons?

Looks a bit like me on a Sunday morning.

Meanwhile, all his suck-up mates have been 'networking' and getting all the good stuff.

Flutterby.

And, quite possibly, the eggy thing it came from.

Spider Monkey coming over for a closer look.

And voicing an opinion.

They come over here, whinge about the weather, get drunk on our strong beer, and then look at them.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oh bugger off.

No tongues, right.

Pigmy Hippo with far more sense than us.

The best fish in the world.

Here's why. They could have asked before 'studying' my sperm, a euphemism if ever I heard one.

An ugly little lizard.

When I was a kid, I had a book all about snakes. This was my all time favorite - the Green Mamba. It hangs from trees in South America and drops down on people to inject a really nasty venom and then eat them. Ha!

Take away the buildings and you could be in Africa.

Warthogs are great. When they run, they look like they're radio controlled 'cos their tails stick straight up. These guys would put a different slant on that great Queensland sport of pig hunting - and certainly even up the odds.

African Hunting Dogs doing what Brandy does best.

Okapi's. A silly name for a silly animal. I just told Kim that it is the only mammal with a tongue long enough to clean it's own ears and she got straight on to the London Zoological Society and adopted one.

No set of photos from the zoo is complete without a piccy of a Meercat.

The Snowdon Aviary - seen better days, too. I remember when the place was packed with birds flying around your head. There are only a few these days.