The Road to Lymington

 Monday morning it was pouring with rain, and Den’s turn behind the wheel.  We carefully negotiated a rendezvous point for breakfast, which Den eventually found after considerable hassle.  Unfortunately the cafe in question was slightly off route and the rest of us passed it by in our haste to avoid the rain.  We eventually stopped in a quaint velo bar that was a welcoming sight on our route.  We were taken by many of the cycling artefacts on sale, notably the bum butter, the ethics of which were advertised under the slogan “tested on arseholes, not on animals”. 

We crossed the Isle of Purbeck, in places via some very rough tracks which Derek, on his road bike, found great fun.  We were intrigued by the chain mechanism on the Studland Ferry, which took us into Poole for some proper brunch, outside in the cold, where Den rejoined us and handed over the car.  After a boring stretch along the promenades of Poole, Bournemouth and Christchurch, we crossed the New Forest into Lymington.  There we found our guest house and had a pub meal in the King’s Head before walking to the lido where I was reminded of my last visit, in the summer of 1972, playing water-polo for Imperial College against a local side who were mostly big old men, who were quite prepared to dish it out to some naive students.  The water was warm and shallow and victory was assured by the simple task of swimming away from the old thugs, who were gracious and welcoming in the pub afterwards.  That’s how sport was back in the day.

Chichester