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GBRT

May - June 2019
Our trip will begin with a Great British Road Trip and will end with the Longhorn Alumni Band as we honor the sacrifices made 75 years ago in Normandy. So many things to do, two and a half weeks to do them, so it's time to get started. Allons-y! Read more
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  • TravelerGBRT
    Day 1

    Yes This IS the Line for British Airways

    May 28, 2019 in England ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    It was a long day (days? honestly unsure at this point) but we've made it to our first stop, The George Inn in Donyatt. The trip so far has been so seamless as to almost be suspicious.

    Corey was kind enough to use his self-driving spaceship car to deliver us to the airport. I avoid saying that Corey drove us, because the aforementioned spaceship actually drove a decent portion of the trip. The spaceship could not, however, tell where the British Airways dropoff point was, so we ended up having to walk the last portion to our check in counter. We walked past the first airline's counter. No line. We walked past the second airline's counter: no line. We walked past the third airline's counter and there was not a line at that counter, but there was a line forming in the walkway. It was the British Airways line. It extended from the British Airways counter, through the serpentine line markers, past the British Airways section, through the sea of swirly-twirly gum drops, and into the walkway in front of the NEXT airline. We were almost 3 hours early for our flight.

    Fast forward 20 minutes. We have moved maybe, MAYBE a couple feet. The line now extends past the next two airline counters. People are walking allllllll the way up the line, thinking that, surely, this line is for something else. Someone else. Anyone else. Please. But this line is not for something else. We have to inform many disgruntled passengers that yes, you do need to be at the end of the line that is alllllllll the way back there. At this point, someone over the intercom starts to make announcements sounding something to the effect of "*incredibly garbled speech* British Airways *potentially an amateur beatboxer* BRITISH AIRWAYS *Klingon*" It seems likely that they are calling in reinforcements to handle this unprecedented crowd, but it does nothing to quiet the masses. Children are being separated from their rolling Cars backpack suitcases. Backpackers are calling out to each other over a sea of impatient ticket holders. Millenials are being forced to choose between Tweeting their outrage and preserving their battery life. In the distance, sirens...

    Eventually, the line began to move and we were able to check our bags. Mine may or may not have been within a kilogram of the weight limit, but it's fine. This is the first time that the horseshoe/hand grenade argument has worked in my favor. We made it through security, definitely did NOT have an argument about order of operations and as a result did NOT walk all the way down to our gate before turning around and walking almost all the way back to security to purchase snacks and a bottle of water only to then walk all the way back down to the gate. That was another couple that did that. We would never.

    Upon our return to the gate, we filled our three refillable water bottles at the Hydration Station (read: fancy sink), bring our water total up to five litres (Will insists that I spell litres this way whilst in the UK) before boarding our plane. Despite being in the last boarding group, we were able to get onto the plane with our ridiculous amount of water AND stow our hat boxes in the overhead bins before settling into our seats.

    A quick note about our hat boxes. Our lovely friend Victoria bought and decorated our hat boxes for us before the trip: mine with burnt orange and white spots, Will's with BOOM SQUAD written in big block letters, and both decorated with an orange and white ribbon. Did you see the problem? Let me try again. Will's hat box, that he carried through the airport had BOOM SQUAD written on it. Taking up approximately a square foot of space. BOOM. SQUAD. None of us noticed the potential issue here until the day before our flight, when Will's parents pointed out that maybe, unless a full cavity search was on his bucket list, just maybe he would want to do something about that. With very little time to make his decision, Will decided that his hat box must make the ultimate sacrifice and he scraped off the letters. Sorry, Victoria.

    So, hat boxes stowed, water bottleS in tow, we settled in for the next 9 hours. My master plan worked perfectly. I drank so much water that I had to use the restroom every six minutes. Between that, my double layer of compression socks, and my grown up aspirin, we managed to avoid any major thrombosis-related incidents. Short of some turbulence over Canada, it was an incredibly smooth flight.

    Upon landing, we found that we did not have to fill in landing cards. Additionally, we were surprised to learn that European and American passports are allowed to pass through the same computerized Border Force line as British citizens. William, who had spoken of little else during the days leading up (an exaggeration, but only slightly) admitted to being only slightly perturbed that he had not been treated as VIP compared to his purely American counterpart.

    We passed through the line easily, collected our bags (Will tried to steal someone else's bag on my behalf (we put it back, it's fine)) we stepped out into the English morning.

    It.
    Was.
    COLD.

    I had packed a scarf into my hatbox, thinking I might need it in the evening. I needed it immediately. I bundled up as tight and warm as I could while waiting for the bus to take us to the rental car place. After several teeth-chattering minutes, the bus arrived to take us to our next destination. Due to unfortunate suitcase placement on the bus, I spent the entire ride with my left leg fully extended and fully flexed in an attempt to keep it from falling over. Will found an upsetting amount of pleasure in the look on my face as we went through a roundabout. I consider those 8 seconds alone to be my workout for the day.

    We attained our rental car with, once again, minimum hassle. We loaded up our things and off we went! Our first stop was a Waitrose for coffee and junk food. Will's first and only requirement was a Waitrose pork pie. I thought he was being dramatic (not unprecedented) until I ate one. Consider me converted; they're glorious. Our next stop was Stonehenge (a story all its own) before arriving at our B&B in Donyatt.    Read more

  • TravelerGBRT
    Day 1

    The George Inn

    May 28, 2019 in England ⋅ ☀️ 17 °C

    Cups of tea: 0
    Pints: 1
    Beds: 1.5
    Number of times getting into the wrong side of the car: 2

    The George is amazing, once you get inside. (Side note: EVERYTHING here is named George. The Foreman family would fit right in). As I was saying, The George is an incredible mixture of a pub in the front and an inn in the back.The pub is warm and welcoming, and the walls are decorated with sassy quotes about alcoholism. My kind of place. Through the back and up a set of very steep, very narrow steps are four bedrooms, just large enough to hold a VERY large bed, two bedside tables, and a desk offering an electric kettle and tea fixins. Apparently this is a common thing here. There is a string hanging from the ceiling above the bed, and another in the bathroom. The string is how you turn on the lights. Again, apparently a normal thing. I'm not sure whether the building has always been a B&B or if it was converted from a house. It has the kind of feeling that wouldn't leave me surprised either way. It actually reminds me a lot of my uncle's house in the upper peninsula of Michigan. From the upstairs window, you can see down into the grounds of St. Mary's Church which has been around since the 15th century. The bathroom window looks into the garden of the adjacent house. We peaked out the window when we arrived and saw two elderly women drinking tea in their pajamas (it was approximately 5 PM, mind you). I can only hope to be on their level someday. I wouldn't mind staying here for the length of the trip.

    As you may have noticed, I placed a caveat on the glory of The George. You must first figure out how to get inside. This took us an embarrassingly long time to figure out, though to our credit, we had at that point been traveling for a lot of hours. I couldn't tell you how many, exactly, but I know it was a lot of them. We parked in the small lot behind the inn, and walked up the gravel pathway towards the street. The first door we encountered had approximately 50 small chains hanging down in front of it, creating a pseudo screen door effect. We did not attempt to open that door. Good job, go team. The second door we came to seemed much more welcoming, until we got closer and realized there were no handles on the outside. We quickly ruled that door out as well. Continuing onward, we reached the end of the alley and hung a left, putting us in front of the pub's main entrance. Surely, this is where humans are meant to enter the pub. Except those doors were locked. There was one more door even further down the street. An old wooden door with an iron loop for a handle. We trekked down to it and...pulled? pushed? turned? How does one open a door with an iron loop for a handle? We tried the obvious choices although, to be fair, we did not attempt to use the iron loop as a knocker. Confused in that special way that you can only experience in times of true sleep deprivation, we decided to head back to the car and sit. Or something. At that point, we probably had the combined mental capacity of a sweet potato. However, as we were walking back past the mysterious, handle-less door, out popped the innkeeper who let us enter through what we now know to be a fire door. No need for exterior handles, since it is technically meant to be exit only and used just for emergencies. Once inside, we got the grand tour and a set of keys which allowed us access to our room and ALSO the door with a ring for a handle. You turn the ring. That's how you open the door. After the tour, I knew one thing with certainty. The question is not IF I will get lost in here, but rather, WHEN I will get lost.

    After hauling all of our belongings up the aforementioned steep, narrow stairs, we cleaned up a bit and went out to meet William's granddad and nan for tea. If you read the Cups of Tea counter at the top of the post, you'll see that we did not actually have tea while we were there. We ended up just sitting in their cozy sunroom and talking for awhile. The sunroom was actually fairly warm, which was a nice change from the cold outside. Texans, eat your heart out.

    After a very nice visit, we returned to the pub where we had dinner before winding our way back through the tables and through a back door granting access to the stairs. Knowing that our electronic gadgets were likely just as drained as we were, we pulled out all of our miscellaneous charging accoutrement to plug in all the things. ALMOST all the things. The one thing missing, the one thing that would be the hardest to replace, the one thing that in no way resembles all the other cables, was my camera charger. After packing and repacking to ensure that I did not carry on more volume than a loaf of bread so that I could carry my camera on, I forgot the flipping charger. My camera is dead and I have no clue how to replace it. All things considered, not the worst hiccup to have in a day involving a Transatlantic flight AND a cross-country drive (on the wrong side of the road) but still not an awesome way to end the day. At least tonight I won't have to sleep at a 60 degree angle.    Read more

  • TravelerGBRT
    Day 2

    Everything: It's What's for Breakfast

    May 29, 2019 in England ⋅ 🌧 11 °C

    I might actually be dying.

    The food was amazing, but there was so much of it. I ate until I was in physical pain and still only ate about half of it. I've learned that I do not enjoy black pudding. I tried, I really did. The taste wasn't even unpleasant, it tasted a bit like Thanksgiving. But the texture put me off and then there's the mental factor of knowing what exactly you are eating and I just couldn't get past it. I gave it a go, but I think my relationship with black pudding may be at its end.

    Another new experience for me was thick British bacon. Not thick because it is British bacon. Thick compared to OTHER British bacon. All the food we have eaten here has been locally sourced, which means that if you want your bacon cut thicker, you just ask your butcher to cut your bacon thicker. The shopkeeper did just that and I learned something new about bacon. There is actually a bacon spectrum. At one end is streaky bacon, what we think of as Americans when we hear the word "bacon." At the other end is back Bacon, what they understand to mean bacon in the UK. For your reference, it's on the left side of my plate in the picture. If you blow right past back bacon and THEN decide to slow down, you'll end up somewhere juuuuust outside of pork chop territory. That's this bacon. It fights back.

    I also already got lost. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I should have turned left. I did, in fact, NOT do that and as a result nearly ended up behind the bar. Which, although not an inherently bad place to find yourself, is not where respectable young women (I'm talking about me) are located before 9 AM. Hopefully this is a one and done situation.    Read more

  • TravelerGBRT
    1
    Day 2

    Dorsettling In

    May 29, 2019 in England ⋅ 🌧 12 °C

    This morning was not awesome. We visited several different shops but still couldn't manage to track down a camera charger. It turned out not to be the worst thing, though, because it was so foggy earlier that we couldn't see more than about 10 meters in front of us. The largest downside to our failed attempts at locating the charger is that it put us behind schedule for lunch. We were meant to pick up William's Granddad and Nan for lunch right at about noon. We didn't end up getting there until 12:10, which, as a result put us ten minutes behind schedule to meet up with the rest of his family. Definitely a faux pas, I know, but I didn't think it to be a catastrophic error.

    I was wrong.

    Being ten minutes late meant that the pub sold out of roast before we could order our food. I did not live through the war, so I never experienced Keep Calm and Carry On in its original form. However. I think I witnessed a very close second when four people in our eight-person party were forced to choose another item from the menu at the last moment. I sank very low in my seat as word spread down the table that we had missed the roast. Will blamed our tardiness on a broken-down lorry on a roundabout which did, in fairness, slow us down. But the ugly truth is that I did it. I made us miss the roast. The truth is out now, and it is a huge burden lifted off my shoulders.

    An interesting thing I've noticed about pubs here is that many of them allow dogs inside, at least in certain areas. Will's Nan brought her dog Sasha in with us, which was new phenomenon for me. Sasha handled the whole thing much better than Charlie would have, in that she only barked twice and spent most of her time sleeping on the floor under a chair. This does explain a lot about dinner last night. A women in the pub for dinner had a black lab with her. I remember thinking that it must be a service dog, right up until she tried to leave and the dog became very distracted by locating potential scraps on the floor. And the bar. And the laps of the patrons. I did think that it was surprising behavior for a service dog. Much less surprising from a civilian dog.

    Aside from the roast snafu, lunch was very nice. I got the chance to spend time with Will's Granddad and Nan, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Brian, and Grandma Marina and Bernard. I've learned that being the butt of nearly every joke is something that happens to William pretty much no matter where he goes or with whom he interacts. So I'm really not sure why he isn't used to it by now! Besides having a nice break from being Will's constant ego control, it was really nice to hear about past visits to the UK and some family history. It was also enjoyable to watch Brian attempt to send texts from Will's "email watch." Sadly, none of them went through because of Will's cellphone plan (or lack thereof), but I'm holding out hope that they will send once we return to Texas.

    Still stuffed from breakfast, I opted for a bacon and brie sandwich, thinking that something lighter would be a good choice. I had obviously forgotten that a single rasher of bacon is enough to fulfill one's meat requirement for a month. I may have committed too thoroughly to eating traditionally while I'm here. The food is delicious, but so heavy. I think the only time all day that I'm fully awake is just before breakfast. Once I've eaten my first meal, half of my body's energy is committed to digesting and my brain is left to do what it can. So if you notice typos of other nonsense in my posts, please know that it isn't the jet lag or me being an idiot (probably). Just blame it on the bacon.

    There are two main reasons that we drove all the way out to Winyard's Gap for lunch. Both of them involve being able to look out over the valley. Instead of a beautiful view of the local farms, I got a beautiful view of traditional English fog. Don't ask for pictures, it's a sore subject. I'm told I missed something spectacular. The view from the pub was a bummer to miss, but I've scene so many beautiful landscapes since I've been here that I don't think I will miss it too much. What I am more sad to have missed is the view of one specific farm. Near to the pub is a farm called Axnoller, which is where Will's Granddad was born. The farm has since become an events center for "weddings 'n' shit" as Will so eloquently puts it, so we couldn't have actually gone onto the farm, but there is apparently a nice view of the land from the hill above. You know, when there isn't apocalyptic fog filling the valley. Adding insult to injury, the fog started to burn off just as we gave up and began our return to Illminster.

    There were two sights that I did get to enjoy during our adventure. The first was trees that were very different from those we had seen so far. I had mentioned to Will earlier in the trip that I had expected the woods to be Disney princess kind of woods and the ones we were experiencing were a little...scrubby. The trees we drove past today changed all that. They grow very, VERY tall and so thick that they are able to join together over the road to form a tunnel of sorts. I've since learned that it makes sense for the landscape and the trees to be outstandingly beautiful, as we were in a region that is classified as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. As far as I understand, an AONB is a bit like a historical district back home. They're beautiful to visit and very unpleasant to living or owning a business in. There are requirements for what materials can be used to complete repairs and what flora and fauna can be interacted with.

    The second lovely sight was Sasha resting her head on my lap on the drive back to Ilminster. She's no Charlie, but she's a pretty decent Bandaid.

    This afternoon, the quest for a camera charger continues this afternoon, followed by a trip to St. Michael's Church and a different The George Pub in a different town. So many Georges, so little time...

    In case you're interested in Axnoller Events Ltd for you wedding and/or shit: https://www.axnoller.co.uk/    Read more

  • TravelerGBRT
    Day 2

    FOUND. A. CAMERA. CHARGER.

    May 29, 2019 in England ⋅ ⛅ 17 °C

    After a fair amount of research last night, I found a Curry's approximately 15 minutes away in Taunton that claimed to have a charger. So, after our breakfast (still digesting) we drove into Taunton. Curry's did not have any camera chargers.

    Next door to the Curry's was an office supply store. They sold many things; camera chargers were not among them.

    At this point, I had started becoming despondent, so we went into a coffee shop in the same shopping center to steal their wifi and recaffeinate (but mostly the wifi) while attempting to find other potential solutions. We found chargers on the website for London Camera Exchange, for more money than either of us wanted to spend. We called to confirm the chargers actually existed since the hurt of the Curry's incident was still fresh. No one answered the phone at London Camera Exchange. We called the Ilminster camera shop which, as it turns out, went out of business years ago and the phone number now belongs to a private individual. Oops. We discussed the possibility of trying to get Amazon Prime to deliver one, but the logistics of that attempt seemed tricky considering the whole "not spending more than two nights in one place" thing. On a whim, we popped into ASDA. ASDA did not have any camera chargers.

    We took a break from the search to go to lunch with Will's family, during which time we talked about the severe lack of camera supply stores outside of the larger cities. No kidding.

    After lunch, we called London Camera Exchange once again. They still did not answer the phone. We went anyway. (If you examine the travel map, you will see Donyatt and Taunton connected by four lines. That is two round trips just to replace my flipping camera charger.) After several wrong turns and an adventure through a back alley that DEFINITELY does double duty as a urinal, we found London Camera Exchange company. The store did exist and they did have chargers.

    The shopkeeper apologetically explained that they were universal chargers, and would therefore charge many more batteries than the one specifically for my camera. He put my camera battery into the charger and even more apologetically explained that the blinking red light we were seeing indicated that the battery was, in fact, charging. He looked positively pained when explaining that the price of the charger was half of the price we had seen online. Confused, but excited, we agreed to buy the charger. I had to restrain myself from hugging the man. I don't think he would have appreciated it...

    I'm sure there's a moral here somewhere, but I can't really think of one. The most relevant tidbit I can come up with is this: even when faced with the idea that my camera had become a very expensive paper weight, I remained more calm than Will did when he accidentally dumped the contents of his suitcase all over my living room on Monday. My situation was arguably more tragic, but I handled it with significantly more grace. So there's your moral.

    Girls Rule.    Read more

  • TravelerGBRT
    111
    Day 2

    No Wayford Am I Driving This Car

    May 29, 2019 in England ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    Newly invigorated by my brand new camera charger with a USB cable which allows me to CHARGE it in the CAR, we headed down toward Wayford to visit St. Michael's Church where Will's parents were married. The first record of the church was in the 13th century, so it is at least 750 years old. It's been around so long that the center aisle is worn down in the middle from centuries of churchgoers walking on it. I tired to take a picture of it while Will was outside, but he walked back in to find me on the floor, and all I have to show for it was a dark, awkwardly angled shot of the stones. I probably won't include that in my exhibit.

    I've heard quite a bit about this church, so I expected it to be old and beautiful. What I did not expect was how small it was. There were only two rows of about 12 pews. A total of about 24 in the whole place. It makes sense that such a small village wouldn't need a huge church, but it surprised me all the same. At one end of the church is a beautiful stained glass window, and at the opposite end is an octagonal font from the 14th (?) century. I wish that I knew more about the church, but for something that's been around for so long, it's surprisingly difficult to find information on.

    Inside the church is a listing of the different gravesites on church ground. The very last name on the list is a Vickery whom William had never heard of. We decided to try to find him. So we walked out of the church, past the old telephone booth that has been converted to a miniature library, and to the end of the road outside of the church. Or it may have been an alley. It's actually very hard to tell the difference. Or they just don't have alleys here. In any case, we did not locate the mysterious Vickery. What we DID locate was a pair of furry pigs. I did not even know those existed but I can honestly say that my life has changed for the better. The first pig we encountered was munching on some grass up the hill from the road. At first he ignored us, but Will started oinking at him, because he is William, and the pig started to venture a little bit closer. We actually thought for a moment that he was oinking back, but then we realized that there was a second pig off to the side who was off in piggy dreamland. He was grunting and snorting just like dogs do when they dream. If my suitcase were not already dangerously close to the weight limit, Charlie may have found himself with a new sibling upon my return. Sadly, it was not to be.

    Let's circle back to the road/alley debacle for a moment. Before leaving on our trip, we discussed my helping with the driving. I was very hesitant because of the exciting combination of standard transmission and driving on the wrong side of the road. I explained this to Will, and said that I could probably drive around town but felt very uncomfortable driving on the highway. He had two bits of feedback there. First, it's called a motorway (imagine me sarcastically waving my hands here). Second, if I were to drive anywhere, I should drive on the motorways and leave the shorter trips to him. That seemed very counterintuitive to me. Everyone knows that you learn to drive in a parking lot, not on a freeway. Excuse me, MOTORway. I did not consider that many of the towns we would be driving through were laid out before America, let alone the advent of motor vehicles. There is no traditional grid pattern. You know that scene in Indiana Jones where he's stuck in a pit of snakes? Really picture those snakes. Imagine you're looking down on them from above. That's the road map for the west country.

    It's generally enjoyable to be a passenger on those trips. You start out in a little town, a quiet village, if you will. I would imagine that every day in said villages is like the one before. These little towns are filled with little people. Sorry, I'm done. You start in a small town and as you leave the town you enter what is essentially a winding maze. Tiny roads that are barely wide enough for one car, let alone two. There are hedges right along the roadside that are sometimes eight feet tall, which limits maneuverability. This is to help separate the surrounding farms from the road and from each other. I can see how it makes sense; they're fences that largely maintain themselves that won't be damaged if someone goes careening off the road, which seems very likely. There are just a few complications that arise. Visibility in these hedge mazes is very low. The road twists and turns so much that you can often only see 50 feet in front of you. So it's difficult to see whether your turn is coming up until you've nearly (or fully) passed it. When you combine this lack of visibility with the narrow road, you run into a second problem. These are two-way streets. Seeing the issue yet? You can come around a turn and find yourself nose to nose with another car and no room to go around each other. I haven't experienced this exact phenomenon yet. So far, anytime we've rounded a corner to meet another car, they have been far enough away that one of us has a place to pull off the road to allow the other to pass. There are small alcoves, about the size of half of a hatchback, that allow just enough room for one car to duck in and allow another car to squeeze past. Apparently, in situations where two cars meet and there is no alcove between them, one car must reverse back up the road until they reach one.These roads are called B roads, and they are to be respected. I initially said they should be feared, but apparently they can smell that. So, no, I do not want to drive on the B roads.

    I also do not want to drive on the A roads, to be honest. I think I've seen three traffic lights since leaving Texas. They just don't really have them here. You know what they do have? Roundabouts. I can do a roundabout passably on a good day, with an automatic transmission, on the right (in every sense) side of the road, in a city for which I have a preexisting mental map. The roundabouts here check literally none of those boxes. I still look the wrong way when reaching an intersection. I've attempted to get in on the wrong side of the car three times now. Today, we passed a car with a dog in the passenger seat and I truly thought for moment that the dog was driving., I absolutely should not be trusted behind the wheel. I'm a public menace. Someone, please explain this to my chauffeur...er, boyfriend.    Read more

  • TravelerGBRT
    Day 2

    By George! Is Incredibly Nonspecific!

    May 29, 2019 in England ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    As I've mentioned, the Brits seem to really love their Georges. So much so, in fact, that while standing in Ilminster, if you type "The George" into Google Maps, you will get a full page of nonrelated results and none of them will be the pub you're looking for just down the street. Tonight we sampled the wares of another The George. The beer was good and the seating was nice, but the steak and ale pie at The George in Donyatt can dance circles around the steak and ale pie at The George in Crewkerne. Unrelated, I'm starting to feel that I'm either in Wonderland or an episode of Black Mirror...Read more

  • TravelerGBRT
    Day 3

    You Are Now Leaving Destination 1

    May 30, 2019 in England ⋅ ⛅ 18 °C

    Here is what was supposed to happen this morning:

    6:00 AM - Wake up and have a cup of tea
    6:30 AM - Pack up our bags and load the car
    7:30 AM - Explore St. Mary's
    8:30 AM - Breakfast
    9:00 AM - Checkout and explore Ilminster
    10:00 AM - Tea with Will's Granddad and Nan
    11:00 AM - Leave Ilminster and drive past the house where Will's family used to stay when visiting
    12:30 PM - Arrive in Lyme Regis
    1:00 PM - Meet Will's Grandma for tea

    Can you picture it happening? Neither can I. I don't know what we were thinking. Here's what actually happened:

    8:20 AM - Woke up. We were already off to a really good start. We traded our pajama pants for actual pants and did literally nothing else before going down to breakfast.
    8:35 AM - Arrived at breakfast.You may be thinking, "How did it take 15 minutes to change your pants?" And that's an excellent question to which I do not have an answer.
    9:00 AM - Got dressed in actual clothes and went to explore St. Mary's
    9:30 AM - Packed up and loaded car
    10:00 AM - Checked out and did not explore Ilminster
    10:15 AM - Arrived at Will's Granddad's and Nan's for tea
    11:30 AM - Left Ilminster
    11:45 AM - Attempted to drive past the house where Will's family used to stay when visiting
    1:00 PM - Arrived in Lyme Regis

    Only half an hour behind schedule, which isn't too bad. However, we didn't make it into Ilminster which means that we still have not picked up cash. Thankfully, pretty much everywhere we've been we've been able to use contactless pay, if not our cards. We're moving a little better today than we were yesterday, probably because we dialed it back on breakfast this morning. A full English is not meant for daily consumption I've realized.

    St. Mary's was a nice detour. The church was pretty, but it undergoing renovations so we were unable to go in. What is interesting is that they still seem to be using the graveyard, which makes sense for such a small town, but is not something you commonly see.

    Tea was very nice. We met their friend/neighbor Steve. The first thing he said when we introduced ourselves was "Oh I've met William, don't you remember?" After teasing him a bit for forgetting him, Steve finally explained that he had met William when he was approximately four. If you ask my family, they will explain to you that I am fully capable of recalling memories from that age. I am very impressive when it comes to strength and detail of memory. However, most of the common people cannot recall that far back, so I don't understand why grownups (that is, anyone older than my current age because my current age will never be considered grown up) like to play this game of "Don't you remember me?? I passed your mom once on the street while you were in utero. I can't believe you don't remember!" In any case, we met (or remet) Steve and sat down to have tea.

    The weather was very nice again today, so we were able to have tea outside. Will's Nan brought out several HUGE slices of cake to have with our tea. It turns out my understanding of "teacake" is incorrect. Will and I both nearly finished our slices, but couldn't quite get there after breakfast. We had a nice time chatting, I did not hit my head on a hanging planter (this time) and we took some ipad pictures, which are always excellent. It's unfortunate that we had to leave, since it would have been nice to stay and visit longer.

    On our way out of town, Will wanted to stop by the house they used to visit in, just so that I could see it. He knew that it was in Broadway, he just couldn't remember exactly where. So we turned down a windy hedge maze road into Broadway. And he knew things looked familiar, so he knew we were in the right spot. Several times, he would say a landmark and say "I remember that house!" or "I remember that tree!" only to then realize that it was not the house or the tree he thought he remembered. After several minutes of turning down many different streets and doubling back on ourselves many times, we decided that we were not likely to find the house and decided to drive on to Lyme Regis. As we were turning out of Broadway, we passed a sign for the neighboring town, Horton, at which point will realized "Ohhhh we used to stay in HORTON, not Broadway!" We may never know whether that's true, as we didn't have time for another side trip. We'll give him the benefit of the doubt and say that it was.

    Once we had the Horton/Broadway (mostly) sorted out, we continued our windy hedge maze journey to the sea!    Read more

  • TravelerGBRT
    1
    Day 3

    Lyme Regis

    May 30, 2019 in England ⋅ ⛅ 20 °C

    Someone needs to inform the English that 65 degrees Fahrenheit is not beach weather.

    Listen, I love going to the beach in Michigan. I’ve probably been there when it is too cold to really be considered beach weather. But mid-sixties, overcast and windy is the time to be putting clothes on, not taking them off. To add to the insanity, people were coming up from the beach to get ice cream. Mid-sixties, overcast, windy and naked is certainly not the time for ice cream.

    Beyond the less than lucid behavior, Lyme Regis feels just about like any other beach town. There are families hanging out in and next to the water. There are shops up on the street selling food and souvenirs. There are tables covered by umbrellas where people can sit and eat or enjoy a cup of tea.

    And there are seagulls.

    Now I am no stranger to aggressive seagulls. I once witnessed a flock in Port Aransas swarm my friend and chase her down the beach just because they thought she had food (she didn’t) and, while it was honestly hilarious the rest of us, it was fairly traumatizing for her. The gulls in Lyme Regis rival those in Port Aransas. While we were sitting outside a café having a cup of tea, a gull swooped down and snatched a whole sandwich off of a plate just as a waitress was trying to set it on a table.

    After tea, Marina and Bernard went to visit a couple of shops and Will and I went for a walk around the seawall. Again, it felt very similar to the breakwater in Menominee, with a few important exceptions. First, this wall is on a larger body of water, meaning that the waves are rougher and throw more spray onto the top of the seawall. Second, rather than being made of concrete like the sea wall in Menominee, this wall is made of smooth stones. Third, likely as effort to prevent water from pooling on top of the wall or falling onto those walking beneath it on the inside, the walking surface is slanted outward. Toward the sea. So what we have here is a smooth, wet surface, slanted outward, trying very hard to dump you into the English Channel. It seems to me like an inevitability that someone, at some point, will fall in. The people of Menominee have prepared for just such an event by placing ladders on the outside of the breakwater so that anyone unlucky enough to fall in will be able to quickly climb back out. The good people of Lyme Regis are apparently huge proponents of natural selection, as they have placed NO ladders anywhere along the outer edge of the seawall. If you’re stupid enough to fall in, you’d better be strong enough to swim back. Otherwise, there are no desirable traits in your genetics and they would rather not have you in the gene pool, it seems.

    After surviving our harrowing walk around the sea wall, we returned to the shops and met back up with Marina and Bernard, only to say goodbye to them before they left for the inn. Will and I picked up some fish and chips and walked down the street (away from the seagulls) towards the cliffs where people look for fossils. The plan was to do some exploring on the beach before heading back to our hotel.

    Did you know that oceans have tides? William and I apparently forgot about them, as evidenced by the fact that we waited until the tide had started coming in to walk along to way down to the stairs leading to the beach. By the time we got there, there was water over the base of the stairs, meaning that the only “dry” path to the beach was hopping from rock to rock past the incoming tide. After several minutes of deliberation, Will decided to go for it. I, having bad luck, poor coordination, and an expensive camera, opted to stay on the stairs. A benefit to this decision was that I had the perfect vantage point to watch my strong, manly boyfriend stare at and then smash rocks on the beach, surrounded by many toddlers doing the same.

    When he had stared and smashed to his heart’s content, he hopped back across the rocks to the stairs, unfortunately without any fossils to show for his hard work. We walked back along the waterfront to the car, and headed off to the inn.    Read more

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