After a flurry of ticks off the list, there has been a bit of a lull in proceedings. But time to step up and get some more of these items ticked off.
This one was a last minute add following Patina's "shall we go on a road trip to Weymouth" suggestion. I'd agreed and was on that Booking App faster than a rat up a drainpipe. Next, where's Weymouth (Dorset) and what is there to do around there? Hmm, what to add to the list? Patina's suggestion was "visit Shitterton" a most worthy contender, but I was looking for something more cultured. Something with meaning. Something old and historical. And there I spotted him, in all his erect glory - the Cerne Abbas Giant. How could I miss this opportunity to go and see him? On to the 60 before 60 list he went.
And so with excitement building, we set off in search of this mystical being, and it was time to visit the Cerne Giant, or as we dubbed him "Cock Man". Who is this mysterious figure up on the hill near the cute Village of Cerne Abbas in Dorset? Measuring 55m in length, the figure is of a nude man with an erect willy holding a large club in his right hand. These figures are formed by cutting out the turf and filling it with chalk. Why is anybody's guess. I'd say that some alcohol was involved, or aliens. I can see it now, after a long day working the fields, the men gathered at ye local fine drinking establishment and after several ales someone said, "right lads, lets go and draw a large naked man holding a club up on Jim's back paddock. It will be a laugh and will serve the tight bastard right." However, come the morning, the lads realised that Jim was rather chuffed with the appearance of a large naked man in his field as all the ladies thought it was a self portrait and his willy hadn't been that erect in 20 years.
How old Cock Man is, is also bit of a mystery. The earliest written record dates him back to the late 17th century. However, recent testing has suggested he could date back to 700 AD but probably closer to the 10th-century when the Cerne Abbey was built. Anyway, after a wander around the village (more on that later), we found the viewing area and there he was. We all agreed the chalk could do with a bit of a top up , and that yes he certainly does have an impressive looking member. A tick off the list.
Our little weekend road trip wasn't all about finding Cock Man. First stop was the charmingly named Hamlet of Shitterton. The name dates back to at least to the 11th century and means "farmstead on the stream used as an open sewer". It's actually a gorgeous, non smelly place. The sign is a large rock as unsurprisingly, the locals got fed up of visitors nicking the old one.
Next stop was Athelhampton Hall where we had lunch. This sits in the Parish of Athelhampton and Puddletown on the Piddle River. Gotta love the naming convention in these parts.
On to the Village of Cerne Abbas (to find our Giant), but first we had a walk around where we managed to gatecrash a funeral where the entire town was out to farewell the much loved Vic (RIP Vic). The town would appear to be obsessed with large erect penis. They "pop up" everywhere . Which I guess is understandable if your towns claim to fame is a large figure on the hill with a large erect penis. That aside, it's another beautiful village.
We did finally make it into Weymouth, and the George B&B that was to be our home for the night. After a few snacks and beveridge's, we headed into town to check out the nightlife of this seaside town.
After nearly being blown away along the foreshore, we found ourselves joining the crowds at that most lofty of English drinking establishments, the local 'spoons. Then it was across the bridge to a rather nice looking chippy for the obligatory seaside fish and chips, except that I broke with tradition and went the seafood basket. Now next door, we really found a fab pub. The music was awesome, the dancefloor was pumping and the drinks were flowing. We may of stayed until closing if it wasn't for an unfortunate incident with a lost coat that had all the makings of an international conspiracy. Our final stop was a quieter establishment, but it had a pool table. And then it was time to head back along the now completely still foreshore to the George where at 1.30am we proceeded to wake up the landlady when we found the door lock was jammed and we couldn't gain entry. Oops, our giggly apologies.
9am Sunday morning and we enjoyed the generous servings of a full English breakfast that sorted out any hangover issues we may have been experiencing. Off we set to the Isle of Portland. Now, it's called the Isle of Portland, but there was no boat crossing, or even a bridge. The handy little map has this to say -"Portland is unique and unusual, connected to the mainland by Chesil Beach, a tombolo (brief pause to look up word) which runs 29km NW to West Bay, Portland is a tied island, and Chesil Beach is the tombolo (a spit joined to land at both ends)." It also forms part of the Jurassic Coast. No dinosaurs were spotted.
English Heritage membership clutched in hands, we visited Portland Castle where some role playing was required. Well maybe not required, but we couldn't miss a photo opportunity. Some driving along and a top up coffee stop with views before heading to the southern most tip of the island called Portland Bill. There doesn't appear to be a Bill mentioned, so unsure as to the name, but anyway we came for the Lighthouse and the spectacular views across the English Channel. Unfortunately, the lighthouse was undergoing testing, so we couldn't climb up (maybe a good thing) and instead had to settle for wandering around the rocky cliffs and checking out Pulpit Rock, which can be climbed, but wasn't.
Our final stop was to Jail. Do not pass go, do not collect £200. Actually we went to the Jailhouse Cafe for a late lunch - the island does have 2 jails. And just like that, it was time to head home. A lovely weekend filled with lots of laughter and so much to see! Could easily have spent several days exploring. A big thank you to my gorgeous girls (OK and men). Time to plan the next one.
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