Post 335: The Dorset Holiday 2026.
Day one: Friday.
I’ve driven up into the quietest part of Dorset you could find, in a valley picturesque and very green.
We were met by the hostess, who had come out of her kitchen to greet us, taken from making a loaf of bread for us as a welcoming gift.
We were guided through the front of the cottages that were arranged in a courtyard triangle, with open corners. These single-storey buildings were ancient barns before their conversion, and ours was beautifully named “Cottage 2”.
We unpacked in blinding sunlight and terrific heat, and then parked the car in another barn at the back of our little piece of history, number 2.
We were able to sit for a while in the garden until the need for a cuppa overcame us. The beautiful view, without a sound barring a little cloud of sheep on the far side of the field. Playful lambs baa’ing, and the songbirds singing — only a faraway tractor I couldn’t see, was the only sign of the normal world my Darling and I live in.
The kettle being boiled spoilt the tranquillity of the whole locality, the cottages laid out in this idyllic triangle created a suntrap which I adored, and sat in to soak up this sunny day and sup the tea.
We got busy inside number 2 and set out my room and the mega bathroom, with the ultra-low loo seat, which had two assistive bars, one each side, but still was a struggle to get up off. Darn it, why didn’t we bring the riser from home? Damn.
While my Darling dealt with the important jobs of sorting the kitchen and her bedroom — a double of two singles — and because my profile bed looked just fine as it was, I decided to sort out the really important stuff, getting connected to the WiFi.
I tried and failed a few times and gave up. I went outside in frustration, but it was soothed by the solar warmth in our courtyard suntrap that we have all week.
The hostess came into view smiling with a welcome gift basket, only to be accosted by me and my big mouth asking about the WiFi.
She tried and failed, my Darling tried and failed, the host arrived from work and also failed, and everyone was confused.
“That’ll be the death of the blog,” I thought.
With confusion raining on this glorious day, we were left with a welcome loaf but no WiFi for me.
Damn!
Other than that, I have to say the conversation during cup-of-tea two — the sequel; my Darling pointed out the drive down was a journey of two halves. I would disagree, as I only drove an hour and she drove the first 2.5 hours. Go you, my Darling. This is fab news, as I normally did all the driving, in more favourable years, this is what I love to see; my Darling getting more confidence. It’s really hard not to have been able to let my Darling kip while we drove; instead, it’s her learning the buttons on the steering wheel while a jealous but physically useless “me” sits and judges and advises on the way.
You guessed it — I’m a hopeless tutor too.
Anyway, she said that the tidily roads out here on with the muddy pull-ins are not her thing. “You (that means me) will have to drive instead, at least until we hit civilisation.”
I said of course and left it at that.
As I say, even Google is scared to let us drive down past this dead-end farm. We also learned from the hostess that if you’re going the other way (not the way we came in), the road has broken up badly with the winter rain. It’s a bit rough.
I hate to think what that’s like.
Great — our escape route is scuppered north. We will have to head south most days instead.
With all that lapping up of the sun, my battered bodily batteries died and I needed a bed.
I lay on it and in seconds 3.5 hours had passed. But I only drove one hour.
I am hopeless, to be sure.
After the nap, it was dinner time, and my Darling frustratedly aimed the TV remote at the TV and looked like she was about to kill it.
The Netflix opening page was left in French by the last occupants I guess, and she couldn’t get our staple diet connected.
I tried and failed.
Perhaps we could ask the hosts? Perhaps not.
We keep asking for things, and this is self-catering, not a hotel.
We found a “Deal or No Deal” to watch, which was followed by the quiz show with Bradley Walsh — The Chase. We snuggled up and eased into a simple life — far from our real life.
I went to bed when my eyes informed me it was time.
We are comfortable. How’s Mr Vicious, I wonder.
Good night.
