Beetroot and Mackerel

Sylvia and I went on a fact-finding visit to Dorset yesterday. If I'm looking for adventure, it's always westwards - towards more of Devon. I hardly know Dorset - nine miles to the east and beyond ,except for The Verne Prison which is located in the historic Verne Citadel, on the Isle of Portland in Dorset. Now I've got you interested... 

I taught a group of prisoners and staff as part of a research project for Plymouth University. I had no idea that I would eventually live somewhere along that particular route to work. I would leave home at 5.30am and drive to Portland, eastwards along the coast road. It was winter and dark for most of the two hour journey. I'd usually stop to look down across Chesil Beach and watch the sunrise with a cup of coffee and a marmalade sandwich. 

I always managed a glimpse of The Cobb when driving through Lyme Regis, deserted and dark on the way and bustling and not as romantic on the way back. I tried my best to imagine Meryl Streep looking out to sea in the film of The French Lieutenant's Woman or - needing even more imagination - catch a glimpse of the steps where Louisa Musgrove fell in Jane Austen's Persuasion. 

So I headed off on a hot windy July day, well after dawn.

The curved Cobb - no sign of Meryl or Louisa 

Plaque commemorating a street washed away by the sea - and more fiction

Sarah Andrew was a fifteen year old distant cousin of Henry Fielding, author of Tom Jones. She was good looking (of course!) and had recently inherited a large fortune (naturally!) on the death of her father. According to one side of the story, the novelist Fielding tried to abduct Sarah as she was walking to church with her guardian. He failed (phew!) and there is mention of a drunken brawl and lengthy intrigue.

Today's version of The Cobb 

...to protect the rest of Lyme Regis and its coast from joining the fate of Long Entry.

Chimney pot prisoners?

Protected from potential Herring Gull nesters.

This house on the promenade may have seen Henry Fielding in action

Not much left to the imagination with beach huts

The Cornish Pasty in Dorset

...or Gull food. Marauding groups of Herring Gulls had perfected the art of snatching (abducting!) food from the hands of unsuspecting holiday makers on the beach - 'The Henry Fielding effect' perhaps? I also took a picture which didn't come out very well of a red (!) beetroot and mackerel pasty. The outing nearly turned into a pasty fact-finding trip. There were many shops selling multiple unusual varieties. Lucky Gulls!

Next time....