It was the sort of day in Dorset that you dream of. We woke to clear, brilliant sunshine and after breakfast went down to the sea, for a walk on Chesil beach. The sun was remarkable, beating hot, and we lay on the stony shingle and listened to the great, slow drumbeat of surf rolling in, while Max, Bridie’s dog, sniffed new smells around the shore. The views up and down the coast were intense—one could see for miles, from Portland to Golden Cap, and the sun shimmered on a clear blue sea that looked out of a Mediterranean summer.
Later, when I dropped Bridie, Max and Monica, back the station, I got back home and went for a quick walk on the hills above the Parsonage. The light was remarkable, streaming through a soft sea mist and the late afternoon smoke from a bonfire. Readers of Tolkien would have thought themselves in Middle Earth. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a beautiful day in West Dorset.
and finally, who came for tea? Max.
It was the sort of day in Dorset that you dream of. We woke to clear, brilliant sunshine and after breakfast went down to the sea, for a walk on Chesil beach. The sun was remarkable, beating hot, and we lay on the stony shingle and listened to the great, slow drumbeat of surf rolling in, while Max, Bridie’s dog, sniffed new smells around the shore. The views up and down the coast were intense—one could see for miles, from Portland to Golden Cap, and the sun shimmered on a clear blue sea that looked out of a Mediterranean summer.
Later, when I dropped Bridie, Max and Monica, back the station, I got back home and went for a quick walk on the hills above the Parsonage. The light was remarkable, streaming through a soft sea mist and the late afternoon smoke from a bonfire. Readers of Tolkien would have thought themselves in Middle Earth. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such a beautiful day in West Dorset.
and finally, who came for tea? Max.
