Three go mad in Dorset

We have returned from a weekend in Dorset, Warmwell to be precise.  We do the 'Sun break' thing a few times a year (I despise the Sun newspaper and everything it stands for but hypocritically purchase my holidays through them). Warmwell is one of our favourites, and we try to go there in the chillier months, as it is so very Autumnal a place anyway.

our lodge

the lake behind our lodge

They have an artificial ski slope on site, a biggish one and I love this.  This is the third year that Oliver has skied there, and this time he did not have to have a lesson, just turn up and go go go.  Mark skied with him one evening, and I went the next.  Oliver, in true kid style showed little fear of whizzing down from the top after very little of familiarisation, whereas I virtually threw myself on the floor mid-flight in terror as soon as I hit more than 5 miles per hour.  Wimp.  Everything is so physically scary as you get older.  I am scared of pain.  It hurts. 

I did actually ski down from the top several times (at very high speeds I'll have you know), but this is the only photo of me in focus - stood waiting for the lift. 

They also have a roller skating 'zone', a pool (in which you are forbidden to anything but float) and an indoor soft play area (yuk). 

Oliver had a ball.

On Saturday we had booked (before we left home to secure a jolly hefty discount) a 'go' on the Weymouth Tower.  Although I should not be surprised, it is not the 'experience' it is jazzed up to be. 'Experiences' are not something we do well in this country, I fear.  There was a queue to get to the booth, then we were ushered through (party by party) to a room where we had to lean back and wave like idiots where - horror of horrors - our photo was taken for the dreaded 'experience' photo.  Then we had to join another queue before the 'experience' began.  Lordy.  I don't know what I expected, but the word 'shafted' was hard to shift from my mind. 

Once this mercifully short period of my life was done and dusted, we headed over into the town for a spot of lunch.  We ate in the 'Cafe Vie D'amour'.  How lovely.  And it was.  I felt cheered once more, and on a high we headed over the part 2 of our £54 ticket adventure.  Weymouth Sea Life Centre.  As I have systematically lowered my expectations with each break we go on, this place was quite able to live up to them.  I thought it had charm, was clean and well-stocked with fishy stuff.  Also it wasn't busy, and the weather was just perfect (for me) - a spot of sunshine but cold enough to keep your coat on. 

 

Ignoring the turtly gliding overhead, Oliver is more concerned with showing off the gap from where I pulled out his tooth during lunch.  It was bleeding and very loose, and yes, I am that sort of mother.  So shoot me.

The best bit?  Claws Adventure Zone, where they have a series of rock pools filled with things you should be able to find in your bog standard rock pool (my eye).  Apart from massive spider crabs which, thankfully, I have never seen in a rock pool.  There was a nice woman working in this area who knew stuff and seemed to like children.  She showed Oliver how to pick up a crab and hold it (big yuk) and he kept popping back there to show off his new found skills to small open-mouthed with awe children.  Good on him.

On Sunday we took a trip over to Lulworth Castle.  Originally built as a hunting lodge, it is quite impressive and very 'castle-like'.  Shame it was decimated inside by fire in 1929, so there is not a lot to 'see' inside.  It is being restored big time.

I was struck by the feeling of quiet and 'space' as I got out of the car.  There are not many places I go to where there is such a sense of 'wide-ness'.  Walking back from the castle I threw my arms open wide and walked along with my head back breathing big lungfuls of air.  It felt good. Luckily Mark and Oliver were occupied with chatting up ahead and didn't see my odd behaviour.  They already think I'm mad anyway so it probably would have made little difference.

In the grounds is this lovely chapel.  Inside (where it asks you not to take photos and I was too scared to disobey) was open, light and very beautiful.  There was organ music on a loop tape  which was very uplifting.  If you are ever in this area (Lulworth/Wareham), do go - it is soul-satisfying place for a visit.

And so to home on Monday.  Via Bridport in a light drizzle where we tramped around poking in charity shops before lunch in Joe's Cafe (yes really) where they let kids draw on the wall.  Good.  I love caffs.  Unpretentious, simple menus and proper prices.  And the napkins were sheets of kitchen roll. Brilliant.  And I got called Madam.  Not in a prostitute way. Ha ha.