Bric-a-brac at the Cottage

I loved this lamp at the cottage.  It was crewel work.  Goodness knows how they got it to fit so neatly.

This was the nearest we got to the Cobb

Love these figures

Who can tell me what this is?  MTL guessed a water carrier.

The Hell it is.

Monument Valley -the furthest east on # 2son's US trip.  The petrol crisis in California makes the prices almost British.

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.

The Gripes of Wrath

Lyme Regis twixt carpark and the sea.
 
The lovely silver sea.  Now where is the Cobb?

We seek it here.

We seek it there.

We seek it every bloomin' where.  Do look at the small redhead.

MTL liked the look of the motor.  Alas back to the car park.

My bit of sky tonight

The view from my office window.  Had a 'flu jab today and felt a bit precious.  Don't forget it if it is relevant for you.

A Week in Windwhistle Cottage.

 

It isn’t clear whether Hawkchurch is Dorset or Devon – a bit of both I suspect.  It is a small lively village in a cluster of narrow lanes NE of Axminster, in fact our directions took us down towards Axminster and then a loop round to approach from the East side to avoid a shorter but more adventurous  scenic route along country lanes and over the River Axe.

 

The church is Grade 1 listed 12th Century – I went for a brief explore and was admiring a striking, stained glass window of scarlet roses when a friendly deacon told me it was to commemorate the rose- growing- rector who in 1894 planted roses round every door, so it was known as the Village of Roses.  You can just see on one of the photos the cottage on the right – near the church, has yellow roses – so perfect they seemed unreal in late September.  The deacon was worried that they may not have an organist for tomorrow's service; I really did intend to go but there was such a deluge and we had a lunch date for 12.30 so I'm afraid I was a fair weather Christian.

 

We had two enjoyable meals at our local Old Inn – warm and friendly with good, home cooking.  On our first visit the landlord came running up the village street after us, returning the sun glasses I had dropped.  It was a temptation to eat there every day – especially when we discovered the joys of the A35 but we did do some exploring.

 

The cottage was an- end- of- terrace, thatched, expertly renovated (two bathrooms, two bedrooms) and the most comfortable double bed ever.  I’m seriously thinking of acquiring a mattress topper of Duck and Feather down – 5” thick.  What do you think?

 We have a routine now which suits us and avoids heavy cooking and clearing.  A light breakfast, a good lunch out and a light supper, with occasionally swapping the lunch out for dinner.  Just as well as the cooker completely befuddled me; it was a touchy thing and I managed to get the flashing zero and then lost it.  And I never got to grips with a microwave.  An Aga leaves you in the 19^th Century.  Fortunately MTL applied his mind – although he is just as remiss as I am in not reading instructions.

 

I loved hearing the voices of the children as they went to the Village School, watching the many dogs being exercised in the fields behind us and the horses trotting through the village.  At times however there would be rush hour and an amazing number of commuters would belt through the village to say nothing of gigantic farm vehicles.  Not the time to choose to back out of the cottage drive.

 

Photos below – more later.

A Week in Windwhistle Cottage

WINDWHISTLE COTTAGE

I DO LIKE A LOO WITH A VIEW - NOTE THATCH FRINGE

VIEW FROM THE GARDEN

JUST A COCK STRIDE FROM THE BEAUTIFUL CHURCH

AND THE EXCELLENT OLD INN WITH REAL HOME COOKING

WALKING ROUND THE OUTSKIRTS OF THE VILLAGE

WW1 MEMORIAL - THE FOWLER FAMILY LOST FOUR MEMBERS.