Burton Bradstock

S's brother and his wife were in Dorset for the weekend with their new cocker spaniel puppy, Marley, who is the opposite of their last one: lively, fearless, and very playful. We planned to go for a walk and a pub lunch but it poured with rain all day, so we skipped the walking part. The pub in Burton Bradstock is everything a country pub ought to be and I half-expected Billy Bragg to walk in for a pint - he lives in the village.

Driving round West Bay and the Bride Valley afterwards my blip consciousness noted various potential subjects for future blips: the cliff where Reggie Perrin faked his suicide; the house at the bottom of the valley where S and I lived; stone circles; round barrows; no doubt there are one or two old barns as well - but this was not the day.