Sally and I met up early the next morning and went to a local cafe for breakfast. We lingered over our food and tea, then lingered again in the car park, not wanting to say goodbye. After an hour of chatting, and managing a few laughs, we both got in our cars, teary-eyed, but both of us waving frantically until we were both out of sight. I drove for a while on autopilot, my heart heavy at not knowing when I'd see my dear friends again. But I had to focus, I was soon on unfamiliar roads, and my first destination was Halnaker tunnel, an old Roman road, that I'd seen photos of on the internet, portraying a mystical sunken passage, overhung with trees.
I was pleased to see that few people were here when I arrived, and set off immediately up the path, passing a beautiful cottage, and banks blooming with bluebells and cowslips. The 57 mile lane runs from Chichester to London, and in this area the banks are high, where many feet have trodden down the earth over the centuries. Charles II was also supposed to have used part of this route when escaping from the Puritans, after losing the Battle of Worcester.
And soon I came upon the scene I'd been hoping for, the tunnel of trees, gently reaching across the hollowed path, and I stopped, suddenly aware that many thousands of feet had walked back and forth along this path. I stood, sensing, and savoring, the history. Today, it was calm and serene, birds trilling amongst the leaves, yet in Roman days, it was likely bustling, people chatting as they passed, probably horses and carts rumbling through also. I walked to the field where an old wooden windmill stood, which had once ground grain, but the sails were missing, hopefully being restored, so I didn't take a photo. It looked incomplete.
I carried on driving south, wanting to visit Abbotsbury Swannery in Dorset, yet within a few miles of my destination, the sunny skies gave way to heavy clouds, the sky darkened, and the rain fell. I parked on top of a steep hill, looking out to sea, and waited, hoping for a break in the weather, but none came. I ended up crossing over into Somerset, and stopped at a little town called Crewkerne.
I booked a room at an old hotel, the George Inn, and was delighted with my cozy abode. But I didn't linger, I was starving, and the bar lady apologized profusely as they didn't cook on Tuesdays, directing me instead to The White Hart next door. I actually watched my steak and Guiness pie being made, while I sipped an excellent pint of Timothy Taylor. The staff were extremely friendly, and I managed to convince 3 other people, who came in after me, to get the same pie. It was delicious, and was also served with a large jug of thick gravy. I chatted with Sally on the phone when I'd finished my meal, then went to bed early.
The next morning I drove towards the swannery again, but it was still raining. I stopped at Hive Beach, which I'd never visited, and decided I'd come back here, when the weather decided to behave itself. I carried on to Mum's, arriving soon after lunch. We chatted for a while, and she came with me to my Airbnb, which would be my base for the next few days. It was only 4 miles from Mum's, and was a tiny annex on the side of an old house.
It was a beautiful, private little dwelling, and I loved it. There were many personal touches, a 'welcome Debby' sign, fresh milk in the fridge and a tin of homemade biscuits. We chatted with my host for a few minutes, then dumped my cases, and then drove to a local garden center that Mum often visits with her friends.
Someone had planted an old telephone box with spring flowers, which I thought was a novel idea. At the garden center, we strolled around, looking at the gifts, then had an early dinner of the steak and kidney pie, which Mum recommended. I had no problem, having another steak pie, I wouldn't ever see them on the menu in America, and this one also came with fresh vegetables, new potatoes and a jug of gravy. Delicious! We had to walk around a bit more after that as we were both so full up. It was interesting inspecting all the plants, very few of them found in America, and of course none of the natives in my own garden were here.
We eventually returned to Mum's, first driving through the moors at the back of Mum's house. The gorse was in full bloom and glowed in the dreary light of the overcast afternoon. We spent the evening chatting and drinking tea, then I drove the short drive to the annex, to fall asleep very quickly in a very comfortable bed.
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