A Stroll around Swanage

Nearly all of my days in England had been gloomy but it hadn't worried me at all. I actually enjoyed the dark skies and blustering winds, and of course it also meant mum and I could explore tourist areas without swarms of visitors. We were rubbing shoulders with just the locals and it felt nice belonging to this crowd,
I had been growing steadily anxious because although we had had a delicious meal of fish and chips in a seaside pub, I was really wanting to enjoy the experience of eating them from a proper fish and chip shop where they'd be served in paper. So we drove down to Studland, taking the ferry for a short trip across the Studland Bay to Swanage, where we promptly parked the car and walked to the town center.

We walked alongside the beach where the wind was whipping up the waves. Few people were out today and we were glad to turn the corner and march straight into The Fish Plaice, where we would have our lunch.

A big thumbs up from Mum. We had just the normal size fish and chips, (the large was huge!), and a cup of tea. The meal was divine. I'd forgotten how wonderful chip shop chips are, they just cannot be replicated, and the fish was like a white steak, so thick and meaty and fresh. I was getting so full that I actually remembered to save a few morsels of fish to feed the seagulls with afterwards.

Adult and youngster gulls all clammered for my measly offering and within seconds it was gone.

There was an abandoned cafe on the beachfront with an excellent trompe l'oeil painted on the front. I would have loved to sneak round the back and see if I could get in the building but Mum wasn't even remotely interested, snorting her derision and saying the building was a disgrace and should be razed. So with a little sigh and a last backward glance we carried on walking.

At the top of the hill we looked down onto the bay and saw this wonderful old tower sat next to some modern houses. I walked down and climbed up onto a fence so I could take a photo without the fence being in the image, but was having some difficulty holding on to the fence and clicking the shutter at the same time. Some nearby workmen were building a tall wall or something and offered me a view from their scaffolding. That was much better.
I looked up the history of the tower and found it had a fascinating tale, click here.

Some views looking down from the coast path and the entrance to the pier.

We walked through the town trying to find the old station but took a wrong road. We were glad we did as we came across some very pretty and secluded areas in the middle of town. Tiny bars, a huge teddy bear and picture postcard stone houses with stone roofs and a small river running by their front doors. The window was in someone's garage looking down their garden path.

We eventually found the station but no steam trains were running to Corfe Castle today, only from March to October. It used to run a passenger and freight service since 1886 but the passenger service was withdrawn in 1972 by British Rail. It's now run by a heritage group who revived a 6 mile stretch of the line.

I loved this shop window. There are a few villages and a river in the area with the word, 'piddle'. There's even an award winning Piddle Brewery, who have some very classy sounding beers, website here.

Checking out the old fashioned saucy postcards, I can't believe these are still running, and this bakery window caught my eye with all those lovely pies and pasties on sale.
We eventually made our way back to the car and decided to run the short trip to Corfe Castle.

But it was nearly 4pm when we got there and dusk was approaching. And then as I walked through to the castle entrance I noticed there was a lot of scaffolding obstructing the view. I guess I wasn't supposed to explore it today but there will be another time for that so I didn't let it upset me. I walked back into the village and up the hill where I could grab a photo of the castle with the pub obscuring the scaffolding. And then we popped into The Sweet Shop. I bought a huge bag of Winter Mixture, rhubarb and custard, and sherbert pips. Yum!
And then racing to get home before dark we drove back to the ferry.

Mum holding a postcard of Studland where we were getting the ferry to. You can just see the ferry and Studland in the photo above as we waiting to board.
This was our last outing on my trip. We spent the last day or so being lazy, meeting more neighbors and saying goodbye to her friends. I certainly won't leave my next trip for another 5 years, it will likely be something I now do every couple of years or more if I can afford it. There were definitely a lot of perks doing our trips without the usual tourists around but I think my next visit home will be to see and smell my beloved bluebells.

Alderholt Water Mill

Mum and I had a few days when we didn't go out far, just staying indoors or popping out for lunch nearby or even just looking at the local shops and garden centers. On one such day that was gloomy and dark with rain threatening to fall at any moment, Mum thought of a place she guessed I would like and so we jumped into the car and drove the short distance to Alderholt Mill.

We passed a couple of pretty houses, common to the area. One with a thatched roof and the other built from brick and flint. Thatched roofs come in different grades, for example, water reed roofs last 55 – 65 years, combed wheat 20 – 40 years and long straw 15 – 25 years. On the cost front, thatchers work in 'squares' (around 10ft by 10ft) costing between £600 and £800 per square.
An interesting article about brick and flint house building is here. 
We arrived at the mill as a fine sheen of moisture was gently falling on the windscreen but got out to walk around nonetheless. I immediately walked over to a small river to take a photo and as I walked back was approached by an older lady who wanted to know what I was taking photos of. I introduced myself and discovered that she was Sandra Harte, the owner of the property. She was very friendly and chatted at length with Mum about the mill and my visit. I took advantage of this to continue snapping photos.

I absolutely adored this little potting shed with every inch of space on the outside wall in use and no doubt full of potting stuff inside. It made me really miss my English gardens; I used to love gardening and would grow any plant successfully, with borders and beds stuffed with perennials and bulbs and vegetables. I only have a few pots on a patio in America since I've always lost plants to deer or invasive bugs. I gave up after a couple of years and just stuck with pots which could be kept close to the house and easily monitored.
Sandra let us go ahead and wander around the grounds, asking her daughter to let us through the back where we could see the water mill.

There has been a mill on this site since the 14th century and this mill stands on a small island on the River Allen. It worked commercially until 1947 when it fell into disrepair but was restored and started working again in 1987. It grinds local flour which it sells or makes into bread. The mill offers cream teas and 4 accommodation apartments in what were once workers cottages.

We walked through to the back garden where I carefully picked my way across very soggy and muddy grass so I could look at the old water wheel, made locally in Ringwood. We were amazed to see primroses already in bloom, usually seen in woodlands in springtime.

Mrs Blackbird pocking her head out of the ivy to get a good look at me.

We wandered around admiring Sandra's Christmas decorations dotted about the front. Her daughter was decorating a garage area for a dinner later that day as they didn't have room enough inside for the large party. They had put up heavy curtains with oil heaters inside and a fire pit would be lit outside. A large oak table was going to be brought into the space and with the greenery and decorations that were being hung on the walls and from the ceiling I could easily imagine how much fun that meal was going to be.
We thanked Sandra for her hospitality and wished them a successful dinner, then headed back to Mum's house for dinner of our own and a large pot of tea.

Strolling around Ancient Sherborne

I had some JibJab videos of our family that Mum wanted on a DVD so the nearest shop that could do that for us was in Sherborne, a town dating back to A.D.705. It is swamped in history, with many old buildings, Sherborne Castle built by Sir Walter Raleigh, Sherborne Abbey, the ruins of a 12th-century abbey to list a few. I would have loved to have spent a whole weekend just in this town with camera and tripod, but this vacation was more about me spending quality time with Mum than it was sightseeing, so I knew I wouldn't get to visit many of these sites. Most days we never left the house until noon or after and today was no different.

We passed a roundabout with its bear figures decorated as Santas.

Looking down on Sherborne. Note the public footpath sign by the gate indicating a trail that could be walked through farmland. I so wish this was done in America.

We walked up a hill lined with ancient buildings to the video store. The road was called Cheap Street but contained a lot of expensive shops. The butcher shop was popular but we didn't linger. 

We did step into an art shop which had some beautiful paintings in its window, and immediately I was drawn towards this painting called "Pinks Arrived, Schvelnig Sands, Holland" by Richard Henry Nibs. Only £7500. so if anyone would like to buy me this, I'd be eternally grateful. I wanted to just sit in a chair and stare at this beautiful stormy scene.
We found the video store and gave them the files to burn to a DVD which would then be sent to Mum. Our next job was to find a cafe so we could have lunch and we found a nearby place called Oliver's Coffee House.

We had an amazing lunch here of stuffed jacket spuds with fresh salad and pots of tea. I took the photo above of another customer's trays. Everything here looked delicious, and the place was packed.

All the shops on Cheap Street were like this one, looking like they'd been there for hundreds of years. No modern glass windows or steel columns anywhere, thank God.

The post box outside the post office had been painted gold from it's traditional red and we spotted a plaque on the side saying that it was gold to celebrate Peter Wilson, a Dorset man, who won a gold medal in the London 2012 Olympics for the Men's Double Trap Shotgun Shooting event. He holds the world record for this event too.

A cute mug with English robins.

Cheap Street Church and the Cross Keys Pub sign.

Dusk was falling as we walked down to the bottom of Cheap Street, enjoying the historic old buildings. We turned the corner to find ourselves gazing up at the magnificent Sherborne Abbey. Lit up from below it was a beautiful sight and just seemed huge from our perspective. In 705 it was a Saxon cathedral, later in 998 becoming a Benedictine abbey until 1539 and is now a parish church. The tomb of Sir Thomas Wyatt, the first English poet to write a sonnet, is inside and Sir Walter Raleigh and his wife attended services here.

St John's Almshouses, founded in 1437, are next to the abbey. An interesting article about them is here.
We couldn't stay much longer in Sherborne, night was falling and Mum was tired. It had been wonderful to walk once again around a town steeped in so much history. After living in the States with its new buildings and recent history, I'd forgotten how amazing it is to walk in the footsteps and explore the buildings the same way folks had done several hundreds of years before. I'd taken this all for granted when I lived here so it was nice to feel as a visitor does and learn a new respect for my homeland and its treasures. We drove back to West Moors and I mentally chalked this small market town on my list of places to return to and investigate more fully in the future.