I caught a train from Paddington Station to Reading, then Reading station to Southampton Central. And after a bit of time people watching (the train was earlier than expect on my part, and later than expected in real life because there was a trespasser on the line earlier on in the track), then Becky arrived and we went off to sort out the weekend. I met Becky (Leithall is her last name - isn't that so cool?!) at James Cook, and I am super glad I kept in touch! We went to her place to wait for her other half James to arrive from London, where we then left Southampton to go on a trip down to Becky's home county of Devon.
First off though - we went camping. I have now got the experience behind me to say I've been camping in the English country side! We drove past countless hedges, down winding country lanes, past BUNNIES, and so many full camp sites! We drove through the quaintest village yet, Corfe, where the ruins of Corfe Castle still stand, slowly falling down. But finally we came across a site with space to spare for a tent and barbeque, and that was it! Another group of city slickers arrived when we did, and it took us much less time to pitch our tent and set up our barbeque as opposed to how long it took them. We sat eating sausages and drinking cider watching the sun set over Corfe Castle.
Saturday morning saw us wandering through the little village, looking at Corfe Castle over grave yards and eating New Forest ice-cream in a little tea house. By the time we left, it was already looking like a beautiful English summer day, with no clouds in the sky.
We drove to Durdle Door - it is in various films - and I died walking up the steep chalk hill. But the view over Durdle Door, and back towards the village of Lulworth, in Dorset, was just breath taking. The beach at Durdle Door was a typical pebble beach, which was an experience to behold! And the water! The water was freezing! I did put my feet in, and they hurt beyond belief then went numb!
When we left Durdle Door, we drove and drove through little winding country roads, with hedges high around the car. We drove through the moors of Dartmoor, looking at shetland ponies and sheep asleep on the road, then stopped at Two Bridges. The road bridge crosses a stream at the same point as an old stone bridge, which has stood there for many years (A map dated 1765 suggests the origin of the name, for in those days the road crossed both the West Dart and the River Cowsic, just upstream from the point where they meet, and required two separate bridges).
My first night in Bere Alston, Becky's home village, saw us have a barbeque dinner, followed by a drive down to a small village celebration at Bere Ferrers. There was live music in the back of a truck, fireworks over the River Tavy, more cider (cider seems to be the drink of choice in the west counties) and lots of laughter and dancing. The band was led by a female vocal, and they did some great covers of known songs.
Sunday saw something absolutely amazing. I got into the Atlantic Ocean! We went to a beach (with REAL sand) in Cornwall, a little cove called Trebawith. It was near Tintagel, where it's thought one of the many myths of King Arthur is said to have been. Granted it was absolutely freezing, and I was in a full body wet suit, but I went into the Atlantic Ocean and went body boarding. I didn't last in the water for nearly as long as James, Becky and her parents, who were in there for quite some time. But instead I wandered around taking photos and laughing at the absurdity of the English bather, the masses of people diving into the cold water and those sunbathing under the cold summer wind.
We left after another barbeque in the field at Becky's and got back to Southampton after midnight, and the weekend's adventures became something to dream about.
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