Durdling in Dorset

Time to take to the local buses again, and I head east to Lulworth. It's a breezy walk along the South-West Coast Path (which I met a few weeks ago in Cornwall) along the cliffs. Nearby is Durdle Door, which in the spring became too famous for its own good as hordes flocked to this beauty spot in possible violation of social distancing rules. Not being a lover of crowds anyway, I don't overstay my welcome.

A couple of days later I'm headed in the following direction to West Bay, where the cliffs are no longer chalky white and while popular, is less hectic than Lulworth. A few miles back east I get off at the village of Swire and walk to the shore. The shingle is coarser here than at West Bay and it's said that as the pebbles graduate in size down the Chesil Beach from here to Portland, a blind person can tell to the nearest mile where they are.

And now it's a trip up memory lane as I hike up a track in search of the cottage where my family spent a summer holiday in 1953. Sadly there's no trace of the house, Greenleaze, but it's set in attractive countryside seemingly a thousand miles from the world's worries. The place names seem to reflect this, starting with the nearest village, Puncknowle (pronounced Punnel).Okumaya devam et