Martin's Mag.

We gave Freda probably her last outing for a while. The weather wasn’t good but we’d already decided on Three Cliffs Bay, on The Gower Penninsular, west of Swansea. Hadn’t been there for a year or two. We stopped in Swansea and visited the indoor market, recently featured on a TV reality show, apparently. It was good; we bought four crabs which Sal dressed* later. [*Technical term, not as exciting as it sounds.]

We then walked around the dock area, including the Dylan Thomas museum.

On, then, to Three Cliffs. It’s a mile or so walk from the road, and this involves paddling through the river (at certain times/tides it’s a bit more than a paddle).

Well worth it, though, and even on a less than perfect day it was as spectacular as ever.

A visit to the Somerset town of Glastonbury’s always a bit of a laugh. It’s where hippies live. It’s “mystic”, man. The shops are unusual and interesting. Apart from food and clothes (I’ve found a good shop for shirts made from hemp “WARNING: the composition of this material makes it unsuitable for use as a drug”) there are all sorts of bonkers places claiming to cure most illnesses. Imaginary illnesses are the best for imaginary cures. The healing power of crystals features extensively, and the ability of certain procedures to “harness cosmic forces”. You get the picture. There are many adverts in shop windows for self-awareness-type courses, mostly loosely based on Budism. Hillarious. I’m off now to try to smoke my new shirt.

Possibly the last really hot few days of the Summer, so we had a couple of days near Swanage, on the inaccurately-named Isle of Purbeck. Fantastic area, haven’t been there for years. We walked from Woodyhyde Farm to The Square and Compass at Worth Matravers in the late afternoon. Great pub (last there with Pete and Diane and Rob and Linda – and Miles and Rolf – over ten years ago) but doesn’t really “do” food, so we went back and Sal knocked something up with couscous in the camper. Fortunately had a few bottles tucked behind the driver’s seat. Watched sunset.

The following day we drove into Swanage and walked about ten miles, along the coast towards Studland and back. Fabulous views over Poole harbour, Brownsea Island, etc. Later Sal had a crab salad and I had a pint of prawns for the second time in a week!

Living the dream…

I met some old (in both senses) friends in a pub called The Volunteer Tavern, between Old Market and Cabot Circus in central Bristol. I seem to have missed this pub, over the many years that I have been visiting such places in the area. It’s a good one: dedicated young landlord, real ale, simple fresh food, garden, wooden floor/no carpet (always a good sign, don’t know why).

Afterwards I took some photos.

The greenhouse is working well. Another few years and it might have paid for itself! This year has been great for tomatoes, chillis, cucumbers and various herbs, particularly basil. Bowls of toms like this every couple of days have been a regular harvest for the last month or so. Very good for the prostate, I understand, although not sure what’s in it for Sal.

One of Bristol’s regular Summer events with possibly even more variety of airborn craft than the more famous Balloon Fiesta. We walked down to The George at Abbotts Leigh afterwards where I had a pint of prawns. Ages since I saw prawns sold by the pint; reminded me of Southend.

We stayed with Freda for a couple of nights in a village a few miles south of Salisbury. The village is called Alderbury, which is very close to Whaddan. So close, in fact, that they share a village sign:

We had a very nice day in Salisbury, and, the next day, a meandering trip back along the River Wyle and then the Salisbury Plain.

You’re right, we do seem to spend a lot of time around Bristol docks. The area, including Hotwells and into the old centre of Bristol is very familiar to us, and, although neither of us is a Bristolian, the area is probably the closest we get to a home town.

Today we visited the M Shed, a museum of the history of Bristol, for a photographic portraits exhibition.

Clevedon has a Victorian “pleasure” pier. The “pleasure” was the ability to use it for promenading and for boarding pleasure craft, which were largely unaffected by the tides. Any Victorian pier is, to me, a slight disappointment as I grew up near Southend-on-Sea, which has a mile-and-a-quarter long colossus, complete with train (see previous entry).

However, Clevedon’s is a real gem and, being the cheapskates we are, we took advantage of an evening’s free entrance, saving the magnificent sum of £3.60.