The Gripes of Wrath

The Gripes of Wrath

 

Saturday was promised to be fair and so it was.  I fancied a trip to Lyme Regis to revisit the Cobb where Meryl Streep, in billowing cloak, agonised in The French Lieutenant’s Woman.  We left our narrow lanes for the hectically busy A35.  Sadly we missed the unobtrusive turning to Lyme Ragis.  The road became quite hazardous; double white lines in the centre and speed restrictions of 30mph and 20mph which – being us - we slavishly followed. 

 

Thence began a nightmare of non stop blaring horns and bully boy tactics.  Out instinct was to get off the road as soon as, but we were trapped.  I have to confess I did feel a little wrathful myself, but commonsense prevailed and at the first opportunity we drove off the road.  I do have some sympathy with the young bloods who know exactly what they are doing, feel safe to bend the rules and are incensed by the old geezers holding them up.

 

However I must point out that if this type of driving becomes the norm we oldies may well give up the struggle to be independent and have to rely on others - which will be costly and possibly use up any inheritance you may be expecting.  I exclude our off spring who are kindness itself, and encourage us to be as independent as possible.

 

Eventually we managed to turn round and find the turning to Lyme Regis.  A friend had told me to follow the signs to the Cobb so we could get down the hills so MTL wouldn’t have to cope with climbing.  No Cobb signs were seen but we followed P signs which took us down into the harbour and then back up the other side so again we were on a hill.  We made the decision that I should ‘run‘ down to the harbour, take some photos and come back.  It was that sort of day and when I went to put money in the machine it wouldn’t work.  Back at the car MTL was parked very close to the next car and was having difficulty getting out.  Not for the first time I wished for super human powers to be able to actually lift the car.

 

Once MTL was back in the driving seat I asked him to explain why we hadn’t got a ticket and ran down the hill.  Fortuitously I bumped into the ticket inspector and he explained that new £ coins didn’t work.  One of the few times when I was rendered speechless.  It looked such fun down by the sea – hustle and bustle, lots of super eating places and a sparkling sea.  I decided the Cobb must be way further along the coast so settled for the very photogenic place I was in.

 

Back up the hill we drove on up- through Uplyme and back to our village – bloody but unbowed and discovered the joys of eating at our local - The Old Inn.

Back at the cottage we discovered a lovely painting of the Cobb over the fireplace.  So that will have to do.

 

See photos below.