Dorset

Sept 29 – Oct 1 found me, with the Alice Leader contingency of ladies, catching a train to Dorset…

My first order of business was to limp to the tube, meet up w/ the group at Waterloo and watch the rain fall as we headed coastal, toward Weymouth. Lovely country and a great day to be watching the world go by.

Upon arrival at the train station we marched off with our suitcases; our trusty bus whisked us off to the Wise Man pub in West Stafford and we had pub grub in a warm, woody setting. The local cider: good (it’s apparently cider making time here so we naturally got on board with the seasons). The local chili: not so good. Who does chili on rice, anyway?

From The Wise Man we hit the Dorset County Museum, which was supposed to have plenty of Hardy items to peruse. However, our tour guide apologetically noted X was missing, Y they couldn’t find, Z was under protection, etc.

We all had a good chuckle at their expense.

Then off to Max Gate, Hardy’s home, which he designed. It’s a Gothic looking, stately but not particularly grand home. There one of the very elderly actresses who played Tess’ sister in one of the theatre productions done during Hardy’s time was present. She couldn’t hear well but shared memories of rehearsing in the parlor. The Swiss woman in our group visited with her for a bit, spending most of the conversation trying to convince her she wasn’t German. In fact, she’s from the French part of Switzerland, so really not inclined to jump on board w/ the German business.

The room in which this little old lady held audience was one of a few we could tour (ok, one of two if you didn’t count the entry way). In the other room we were given a welcome by a Hardy expert, who recited some of his poetry, bringing it alive with his Dorset accent. What I remember best was the old sofa on the far side of the room; someone expired upon it 100 years ago.

Then we were off to the Yalbury Cottage (at least my faction of the group; others were chauffeured to their respective hotels.). Our cottage was in a quiet, rural spot with cows and ponies frolicking in the pastures behind.

My window looked out upon this pastoral scene, which felt straight out of a Hardy novel. He captures the essence of the landscape and weather beautifully in his prose.

After some re-group time we met for dinner at the Yalbury, which I have to say has a great chef. I’d stay there for the food alone. Short commute, too. Apparently said chef used to work for 4 Seasons as an executive chef.

At the moment I can’t remember what I ate (unbelievable, isn’t it). Of course it is a month later.

Ah yes…now I recall. Scallop starter, vegetable and spelt pie for my main (sounds so healthy but believe me it packed a wallop of really good butter) and apple flan to finish. Perfect for the season.

I do remember the conversation at our table…it went from “why are our kids taking the tube for their field trips?” (vs. busing, why 3rd grade and not the older/potentially more seasoned 5th graders, for example.) I, for what it’s worth, didn’t really get concerned about losing my daughter on the tube. One, I guess we’ve already been down that path and am now de-sensitized? (thankfully a short-lived fright but all ended up fine), 2) Claire’s teacher is WAY on top of things and 3) the 3rd grade crowd seems to have enough acumen to sort themselves out (probably because ASL has drilled the protocol into them should they get separated from the group, tube or no tube).

Ok back to the table conversation. Yes so it ranged from the tube to plastic surgery (re-building of cheekbones – who knew?). As my friend Allison says, I thought you did that through weight loss.

Then we moved on to 3rd grade girls and carbohydrates. This I refuse to make an issue in my humble home.

Oh and this led into obesity in the U.S. Phew doesn’t it sound like we were all a bunch of carpies (is that the right word or am I referring to fish?). Yes, there is an obesity problem there but it’s also a growing problem (no pun intended) here, in India, Mexico, you name it…blame it on Nintendo, TV, internet, McDonalds, laziness, cheese, beer, whatever.

The following day I had a fabulous omelette. I do mean fabulous. Boy that sounds funny right after my paragraph on obesity. LOL.

Then off to Hardy’s childhood home, a lovely little cottage with tiny upstairs rooms. We then went to Bere Regis, famous for its connection to Hardy's novel 'Tess of the d’Urbervilles', first published in 1891, where it is referred to as 'Kingsbere'. (Never mind that he described it as a “half dead townlet.”) We stopped at the church there, lovely with carved roof and Tuberville stained glass window.

Then it was time to eat again (these trips are heavily weighted toward food, again no pun intended). This time: the Greyhound. I think we pre-ordered, then all re-ordered and confused the kitchen, wherein we all passed around some starters and desserts because we didn’t want to add insult to injury. I recall thinking the soup (which I did not order) was quite good.

After all that food we simply had to move, and Alice had arranged two walk options for us. Being a gimp, I opted for the putz around Dorchester – “Far from the Madding Crowd” walk. We hit the points on our map, had time to tool around antiquing and shopping a bit, then slipped back to the hotel for some down time.

In my case, a massage at a room in a very cool inn dating back to the 1500’s. The masseuse was fabulous and doctored up my toe with some homeopathic meds. I’ll try anything to move the healing along (anything except the R-I-C-E treatment at this point, apparently. Don’t worry, my time came.).

Truly a fabulous afternoon – historic walk with friends, nap, massage, bath and dinner, all in the space of a few hours.

Our coach (sounds so Cinderalla doesn’t it? Never mind; it was a bus with a bit of a grouchy driver) whisked (lumbered) us off to dinner, this time at the Blue Vinny. Great name, you think? Another good meal; I seem to recall fish this time.

And on Friday we enjoyed another amazing breakfast before heading off to Stinsford Church. Hardy and his wives are buried in the churchyard, and he was baptized within. I shall probably always recall best Alice swearing like a sailor inside; I can’t remember the story she was recounting but it was most amusing and blasphemous! (I’ve always wanted to use that term!!!)

We then stopped for coffee/tea before hitting the train back to Waterloo. 1) we had a little time to kill and 2) one can never have enough of a warm beverage living here, it seems.

Actually, Szerina and I used our coffee time to go on on a mad, fast paced shopping trip that netted nothing (I was looking for warm slippers to accommodate foot issues. You know as well as I that when you go in search of such specific items they are NO WHERE to be found.).

All too soon we were back on a train homeward bound. Another great Alice Leader adventure!