And the day after!
It was not so hard after all to lift the head from the pillow, – for in the words of the wise Elephant
“If the wine is good – there is no evil aftermath”! and the wine was certainly good.
I had been promised a day seeing as much as possible of the Hardy Country, so we set out reasonably early.
We made our first stop in Stinsford, to see Hardy’s grave and those of his family. It is a quiet green place, with a small and very unpretentious little church.
Stinsford
Here are two pictures which do not either of them convey it very well, and I was sorry to find the church closed. – No wonder we are poor church-goers in this country! Rarely does one find the small country church open except on Sundays!We found Higher Rockhampton (I assume this should be Bockhampton, but it’s definitely written Rockhampton) and the small cottage so picturesquely situated deep in woodland on the very edge of “Egdon Heath”. It was here Hardy wrote “Under the Greenwod Tree” and “The Return of the Native” — This last was my mother’s favourite I think, unless it was “Far From the Madding Crowd”.
We found the quaintly named village “Tolpuddle” to say nothing of “Puddletown” Piddletrenthide and Piddlehinton. ! – One wonders about their origin.
Then touring westwards the fascinating spot – Cerne Abbas. Here in a small clean inn we luncheon – and then made a gorgeous tour of the downs. – Lyonsgate, Evershot, Tollerdown gate, Beaminster, Hook, Toller Porcorum, Kingston Russel, Winterbourne Abbas, Maiden Castle and and so home.
It was a beautiful afternoon. And superb country. Never before have I felt so intensely the power of a countryside. – No wonder Hardy drew inspiration from it. – One feels too, that it is unchanged and unchanging, – Almost I would expect to find myself riding behind that farm cart and see Bathsheba Everdean combing her long hair! (Far From the Madding Crowd.)
This part of our holiday has been a real treat for the Mouse!
We had a delightful evening again, after dinner talking with the young Stockdale brothers. – two very nice boys. – one a Barrister and a great reader – he is a great admirer of D.H. Lawrence – so won my heart instantly!
Dorchester itself I love too and did I not find the most enchanting old iron pot boiler to hang on my cottage crane?!! – Down the hill is a glorious old rummage shop!
Very reluctantly we packed our bags for the return journey and said “good-bye” to the “Antelope” !
—
There was yet one more night to spend on the road, and as usual it became a matter of great discussion. –
Maps have a devastating effect on both of us, – we both get very drunk on maps and go careering all over the country !
We left Dorchester early and headed for Sturminster Newton. There to Durweston and Blandford again; — wildly now across country to Cranbourne and Fordingbridge, Cadnum and Romsey once again, — Here we paused – but not for lunch – !
Where should we spend our last night?!
In the back of my mind, tucked away I remembered reading about a “good old fashioned Inn where Miss Florence White lived – Miss White being an old lady now, and an expert on country food. – the authoress of many good articles on the subject, and an enthusiast on preserving Old English customs and Fare. –
“Now Jumbo” said I. – “that surely is the place”!
“What place”?! said he with a growl. – “I can’t see inside your head my dear Mouse” !! —
Of course I was in one of those abstract moods! All the same it suddenly flashed out. — “Fareham Jumbo darling”!
“Fareham”! “Right”!
We arrived at the Red Lion Hotel Fareham in time for tea.
It was terribly disappointing – it was clean, – but oh so modern inside, and its outside had seemed so promising! We didn’t like Fareham very much either.
“And now” —? (J.)
“I don’t know — I give it up!” (M.)
Out came the maps.
“Lets got to Bosham”! (J.)
“ooo! Yes!” — (M.) I’d seen pictures of Bosham!
We neither of us knew anything about it – so of course we went there through Cosham and Havant and Emsworth, none of which was really very attractive country!
But — !
Bosham! Oh! What a gem of a place – queer little cottages, a fascinating old mill house that I’d buy to-morrow if I could. A strangely fascinating small harbour, and a great atmosphere of otherworldliness about it.
Alas! Alas! There was no where to stay! It was getting “late” and dusk was upon us, – there was nothing for it but Chichester, – so to Chichester we went and without a word from either, — straight to the Dolphin and Anchor hotel – now a Trust House. – but none the less very comfortable.
We had to climb two flights of stairs to our rooms, for we were tucked away on a small quiet landing by ourselves, – at least there were only three rooms there.
We washed and prepared to dine. – Jumbo was ready first and went ahead I followed. – as I opened my door, the third door opposite opened too, and there stood Geoffrey Bilson, – a charming acquaintance we had made on a return journey from Germany in the Autuumn!
We both nearly fell-down the narrow stairs and as we arrived in the Lounge Jumbo roared with joy.
I think I must draw a veil over the rest of the evening, – at least after the hours that followed a very good dinner together, for there was a good fire, good drink and good company and midnight had struck ‘ere we negociated those two flights of stairs and carefully opened our respective doors “in case we wake up the chap next door” said young Bilson with a grin.
“Its me! You fool”! said Jumbo and closed his with a bang loud enough to waken the whole hotel!
—