At one time, there were two places called Lymington in Tasmania. One of them was on the banks of the River Nile. Following some confusion with there being a second Lymington south of Hobart, the former had a change of name to Nile, which it remains today. The other Lymington, had, up until the early 1840’s, been called Copper Alley Bay. Who, what or why it was changed to Lymington is anyone’s guess.
Lymington, Tasmania is now very small and hardly noticeable. As (Michael) Ian Byard writes, “Sadly, though, it is now little more than a name on the map.” This is seriously not the case for the original Lymington, here in Hampshire. If nothing else, the place is alive with vehicles.
I think we’ve been spoiled in Trosa with the lack of noise and pollution. This was very noticeable when we walked into the high street this morning. There was a constant stream of traffic spewing out odours. It was almost as bad as The Borough in Farnham.
And the traffic lights give scant time for pedestrians to cross in front of the smelly, snarling cars. It made me wonder why people are concerned about being ruled by machines when they already are. At least with AI the machines would have some form of intelligence. There’s nothing particularly intelligent about cars.
Anyway, while the roads are clearly awful, there is a lovely network of alley ways in Lymington which helps alleviate the ghastly a bit. One of them passes through the St Thomas Churchyard, leading around the side of the church to the high street.
There’s a lovely little war memorial outside the church, which sits on an outcropping of road which pushes traffic around its ecclesiastic bend.
We walked into town via the very handy vet where we were told we’d have to register with head office before they could do anything with the girls. We were given the appropriate email address and, once home, I sent them an email. They then wrote back telling me what else I had to do. This was mostly concerned with their medical records which are in Farnham. I had a response from Farnham by the end of the day so, hopefully, the whole registering thing will be short-lived and painless.
Having found the high street, we wandered down the road, shouting to be heard above the traffic, until we reached a little alley, leading to a little collection of shops, including a butcher and a café. The butcher will definitely be a shop I’ll visit.
Also, I’m looking forward to Saturday when the high street becomes a big market where fresh fruit and veg, meat, cheese and other delights close the road off to traffic and supply shoppers with everything they could possibly ever want. It sounds very French and a delightful and unexpected treat.
Anyway, today we went to the café for a lovely latte/Americano.
Afterwards, Mirinda went for a bit of a walkabout while I headed back to Waitrose.
Later in the day, Mirinda took the girls for a lovely, run across some fields. They were rather pleased to be off lead and among good old English mud again.
