As it has been such splendid weather this weekend, Mr WithaY and I have been Out and About. In the open air. Doing stuff.
It's been lovely.
Yesterday was a Doing Stuff At Home day. I decided to wash my car, despite the dire consequences last time, and in direct opposition to Mr WithaY's views on car washing. I offered to do his as well, I was feeling so optimistic about the exercise.
He declined, on the grounds that he "doesn't want to be driving around in a big shiny Landrover." I suggested he get his car covered in green velvet for a really matte look, in that case.
He ignored me and went to clear out the garage instead. A brave man. Isn't it amazing what mice will eat?
Anyhoo. Washing my car. I spent bloody ages on it.
First, I washed it all over with the hose and a soft brush to "remove the loose dirt" as per the car wash soap stuff instructions.
Then I mixed the correct quantity of soap stuff with warm water and washed all over the car with a sponge.
Then (and by now I had been going at least an hour) I rinsed off all the soap with the hose pipe.
I stood back to admire the gleaming loveliness.
It looked fantastic. The whole time the car was wet, it looked really clean and shiny. The moment it dried, it was streaky, dull, and splattered with I know not what.
Frankly it looked worse than before I started.
I gave up in disgust and went to wash out the bird feeders instead. I love having a hosepipe with a trigger control on it.
But the Dorset thing. That was today. We got up early and scooted off to the coast. We went to Worth Matravers, a fantastic Dorset name for a village, and parked up. I was very taken with this sign:
Not here, you fool! There. There!
I also liked the giant dry stone beehive thingy.
We found the footpath, not too steep, not too muddy, and wended our way to the sea.
Please note Mr WithaY's funky stick. I borrowed it on the way back, and managed to not trip over it. Unlike him. Heh. Anyway, he went striding off in his huge boots and gaiters and I tripped along behind feeling as though I ought to have been carrying a small dog in a handbag, and wearing a pair of high-heeled, fluffy pink mules, so under-equipped was I in comparison.
We got to the sea. Windspit (another charming name) looks like it used to be a quarry, and there are loads of odd square caves cut into the rock.
A group of people were rock climbing up and down the cliffs. Brrrrr.
We watched for a bit but nobody fell off.
The sea is too far away, down scary cliff faces to get to, but we sat on the edge of the rocks and watched it for a while. Most relaxing.
After scaring ourselves silly on the edge of the cliffs for a bit, we trekked back up the hills (didn't notice them on the way down) to the car, and then to Swanage for splendid fish and chips.
...passing the village duckpond on the way. One of the ducks was on a mission. He kept diving under the water, trying to catch one of the goldfish in the pond. Nice symbiotic relationship there. I bet the fish are really relaxed.
And then home for tea and medals. Marvellous.