I don't know about where you are, but ITV's drama Broadchurch was veeery popular around these parts - although whether or not it had anything to do with having David Tennant in the lead role, I couldn't say. In spite of an array of West Country accents which were almost as accurate as those in Doc Martin, it's fair to say that the show was a huge hit nationwide; the 'finale slug' even had its own Twitter account.
Now, you might not want to spend part of your summer holiday in Broadchurch, and I wouldn't blame you. But its real-life counterpart, West Bay in Dorset, is really rather lovely.
From what I can gather, the programme was filmed partly here in Hardy Country (Tennant's character was also called DI Alec Hardy - coincidence, anyone?) and partly near Bristol, which might explain the gurt Bristolian accents, but we'll forgive and forget those, shall we?
And this Saturday's day trip took us an hour-and-a-half or so up the road from Devon to neighbouring Dorset, with West Bay being very close to the border - in fact, you can see part of the Devon coastline over the shingle in the third pic (above).
West Bay lies, quite predictably, at the western end of Chesil Beach, which runs along the Dorset coast from Portland for 18 miles. Rather than being a sandy beach, it's made of shingle and pebbles, like those above. It was on said shingle that I spent most of the afternoon, reading (or re-reading a rather fab autobiography of the Mitford sisters), snoozing and unfortunately getting a tad sunburnt. That'll learn me for putting factor 30 all over the front of my legs and not the back...!
Just on the other side of the harbour, a small distance from the beach, sits a row of six or seven fish-and-chip kiosks, behind which I spotted a seemingly very patriotic boat-owner (sadly, we didn't have time to take a further trip on the River Brit, which cuts through neighbouring Bridport). As always, it was a job to choose between the kiosks, but once our lunch had been selected, we sat on the small green in the middle of the town to eat.
So here's a little something for the Broadchurch fans amongst you; the local newsagent is clearly taking full advantage of the attention that has come West Bay's way since the programme was shown, making their own (quite convincing) window displays, featuring mock Broadchurch Echo articles and a fun fair poster signed by Pauline Quirke.
After lunch, we headed back along the harbour in the direction of the beach once more. West Bay's harbour has, in our family at least, become known as one of the West Country's prime 'crabbing' spots, strongly rivalling Dartmouth.
Thus my dad and my sister Mel came to be hanging over the edge of the harbour wall, nets and baby squid (the crabs' favourite bait) in hand. For anybody not already acquainted with this traditional yet curious pastime, it involves baiting a net or a little hook, plopping it in the water and waiting for a crab to bite, or claw, or whatever it is that crabs do. The idea is to catch as many as possible, pop them in a bucket of water, then return them safely to the water once you're finished. It's proper edge-of-your-seat entertainment.
Even though it was a little cloudier than it had been on previous days, Mum and I decided that the beach was still the best place to be, so we left Dad and Mel to their crabbing and went back to relax on the shingle, with me intermittently checking Twitter for #royalbaby gossip, of which there was predictably none.
I also endeavoured to master the Youtube Capture app:
Mel and I have been holidaying near West Bay and in Dorset in general since we were very small. In fact, my first holiday, when I was 8 months old, was at Gorselands, a caravan site just over the hill, along the beach. I considered uploading a charming baby picture of me, but decided against it when I discovered that it seems I spent most of that holiday naked and in a red plastic tub of water.
It's safe to say, then, that we know the area quite well, having spent more than fifteen summers there, and so it was strange when the time came to return home not to a holiday cottage, but to Plym at the end of the afternoon.
But there was still time for one more ice cream from the 'Broadchurch shop' before we departed (see Mum and Mel with enormous Mr Whippies below...) And given Dad's crabbing success, I've no doubt that we'll be returning before the summer is over.
(: xx
