By: Blonde Two
Mr Blonde Two and I had a lovely day out last week. For his birthday I had bought him a day’s Morgan hire and he had chosen to drive us along to Lyme Regis.
I have only been to Lyme Regis once before and just like last time, I was impressed. Before you even remember about the fossils and the history, the lines of cliffs on either side draw you to explore them. That is until you spot the Cobb which is surely the most beautiful harbour ever built by man (or maybe even woman). The Cobb (of French Lieutenant’s Woman fame) is a lovely Bimble all on its own. If you are feeling brave you can climb the steps and walk along the vertiginous wall whilst you attempt to simultaneously admire the waves and ignore the seaward slope. If you do choose this option, I will be impressed if you opt for the furthest set of steps back down onto the harbour proper, you know those stiles where the climbing stones jut out of the wall, well this is a very long and fairly wide apart set of those!
Once we had explored Lyme Regis we set off in our red sporty number to Charmouth where we had a great time walking on the beach, visiting the excellent visitor centre and exclaiming over the astounding fossils therein. I spent some time trying to comprehend the time scales involved but my poor brain couldn’t cope, everything is so old and I ended up feeling so insignificant (which of course I am). How astounding and what a privilege that this evidence of the world’s development is so beautifully revealed in these fossils.
I am definitely going to return to the Jurassic Coast, do some more beach walking, contemplate some more eons and hopefully find my own little piece of this astounding history!
One should also mention Jane Austen’s reference to The Cobb – an admirable location for demonstrating Louisa Musgrove’s silliness.
But oh I’m so disappointed. I had this impression that the members of the Blonde family were all pragmatic and here they are revealed as acute sentimentalists. There is no more sentimental car than a Morgan (for half a dozen cast-iron reasons) and having a local connection with the company doesn’t get you off the hook.
My own family proved to be more savvy. For my birthday several years ago they rented me a Porsche 911 Carrera – no sentimentality there, I trust you’ll agree.
Fear not Robbie, I have a very pragmatic reason for deselecting the 911 as a birthday gift. Mr B2 has driven me in a borrowed one before and I distinctly remember uttering the words, “I don’t want to die!” as we pulled away (probably not very fast) up a hill. I am pleased to announce that I still prefer the land of the living (although I have not, of course tried the alternative).
Interesting point you raise. I quite sympathise with your wish not to die but some of the stuff you do (and I used to do) involves risk which might – if you were very unlucky – have fatal consequences. So in a sense “do not want to…” becomes “accepts the possibility that…” if I make myself clear. Do you ever reflect on this? For some timid souls the faintest hint of risk ensures they never leave their couch. But not you, of course.
Briefly where is the dividing line?
I am a scaredy-cat in so many things Robbie but when it comes to being outdoors the benefits far outweigh the risks. I tend to overthink risk and have emergency plans for all types of odd situations. Yesterday for instance I found myself looking at a video of someone drowning so that I knew what to look out for in the sea (presumably I would know if I was drowning!) You could call me an adventurous chicken I guess.
Another variant of the subject is lightly touched on in Tom Lehrer’s song about Boy Scouts. Here’s the last verse:
Be prepared! And be careful not to do
Your good deeds when there’s no one watching you.
If you’re looking for adventure of a
New and different kind,
And you come across a Girl Scout who is
Similarly inclined,
Don’t be nervous, don’t be flustered, don’t be scared.
Be prepared!
OK, I’m all done on this subject now. No doubt there’ll be healthier matters in the offing to which I shall be able to contribute nothing. Sort of rhymes.