The weather continued to be ghastly today though, in saying that, there were long moments of glorious sunshine between the showers. Of course, most of it we watched from the comfort of the cottage as we beavered away.
I finished my research into Wrecclesham and arranged to meet with a guy on Monday regarding the Hale research I’m doing next. Mirinda was working on her thesis.
Then, shortly after 1pm in a moment of dry, we headed out, looking for somewhere for lunch. We wanted to try a pub so we headed for one that was highly recommended on all manner of websites. The fact that it also welcomed dogs was a definite must. The pub is called the Bottle Inn and is not far from the cottage.
We travelled along a very narrow country lane (it’s indicative that it was narrow in a Mini), occasionally backing up for vehicles approaching, occasionally letting them back up, all of which Mirinda managed with aplomb, until we reached a road with markings and, finally, the pub. Which was closed.
The sign on the door of the pub announced that it was closed because of illness. It’s difficult to be cross about a pub closed because someone is sick. To compensate, Mirinda crossly ordered me to find an alternative. Which I did.
The Hunter’s Lodge Inn has only one draw back. It’s very difficult to take a photo because it’s on quite a busy road. It was, however, easy to find and not far from the Bottle Inn.
All round, the pub was a delight. They not only welcome dogs, they love them. I reckon Emma and Freya were treated better than us. Not that we were treated badly. Good grief no! Great beer, wine and service. And the food was very filling.
Mind you, Mirinda felt somewhat young being surrounded by the mid week lunch time crowd of the ancients.
Sufficiently stuffed with liver and bacon (Mirinda) and misnamed moussaka (me) followed by some truly naughty desserts, we returned to the car as the rain restarted.
The first night at the cottage we discovered that there’s two iron age fort sites nearby, both looked after by the National Trust. After lunch and much needing a walk, we decided to check out Coney’s Castle.
Coney is a medieval word for rabbit so, at some stage, the place was probably used as a warren though we didn’t see any today. Actually all we saw were three humans and two dogs. One dog was a rather odd French bulldog on a lead. The other was a collie chasing a stick. The girls took little notice of either and the reaction from the other dogs was entirely mutual.
We walked along the outer ditch for the first bit, climbing onto the ridge that overlooks the landscape, giving views between the many trees.
We then walked across the middle of the fort which has been bisected by a country lane. The lane was created a very long time ago, long before anyone realised the importance of archaeological method. In fact, the lane is an ancient site itself. It is also part of the Wessex Ridgeway long distance footpath.
The views out over the sea towards Charmouth were fantastic. Equally fantastic was watching the rain approach. And the cows heading from field to barn down in the valley.
After a long, lovely ramble all over the fort, we headed back to Max for the drive back to the cottage. Naturally it rained.
We went back to work…or rather, Mirinda went back to work while the girls had a snooze with me in the lounge room.