This morning was rainy and so we were pleased to be on our way. We only had a short drive to our next stop in Abbotsbury, but we packed in plenty before Basil’s wheels stopped moving for the day.

Much to our excitement we had at last found a place not too posh to have a Lidl – Dorchester, which was fortunately more or less on our route. However en route we began to see signs for Tolpuddle and our grey matter started to stir. Tolpuddle was the location of one the iconic moments in trade union history and workers rights in Britain – the Tolpuddle martyrs. Six farm workers formed a friendly society in the mid 1830’s and jointly refused to work for less than ten shillings (look it up kids) a week, when the then weekly wage for a farm labourer was seven shillings. Legislation had recently been withdrawn that had forbidden friendly societies and trade unions but a local landowner managed to get all six convicted of “swearing a secret oath” contrary to an obscure and ancient piece of legislation. The six were transported to Australia, but a petition of 800,000 names and large scale protests resulted in them being pardoned and returned to the UK.

There was no option but to make a diversion. Tolpuddle is these days still a small village and its thatched cottages make you believe you could almost be pack in the 1830s. There doesn’t appear to be much to see beyond a small Trades Union Congress museum, which is closed at this time of year and a sculpture representing the suffering of the six men. Still it is an important moment in British history and we were glad to have visited the spot.

Tolpuddle Martyrs memorial

Our arrival at LIDL was a little nerve wracking for me. Whereas in our 8 months in Europe visiting LIDL in about 18 countries, I don’t remember parking being a particular problem, but as soon as we turned into the road adjacent to LIDL it was obvious we were not going to get Basil in. Furthermore there were parked cars all over the road. I dropped Sarah off, extricated Basil with difficulty and found a layby to park. Picking Sarah up was equally difficult. There was too much shopping to quickly shove in Basil’s capacious boot so Sarah ended up handing bags to me through the drivers door and with food and drink scattered everywhere we made our escape.

While waiting for Sarah I had found what I thought would be a good stop for lunch – an English Heritage site just outside Dorchester called Maiden Castle. It turned out to be the largest Iron Age hill fort in Europe. Initially built about 5,500 years ago, it has huge earth defences which encircle an area about the size of 50 football pitches. It was finally abandoned when the Romans arrived and turfed the occupants off and into Dorchester! The Romans then proceeded to build a temple on the summit. The extremely muddy path into the hill fort meant we just watched it from a distance. We are running out of clean trousers and so muddy walks are strictly rationed until we next find a washing machine.

Part of Maiden hill fort. The lumps are the earth works.

An English Heritage photo showing what the hill fort looks like from above.

Forty years ago I missed my A Level Geography field trip, for reasons I cannot remember. However near our final stop for the day was an ideal place to make up for that disappointment – Chesil Beach. I remember studying Chesil Beach as part of a topic on coastal features. It is an 18 kilometer long bank of pebbles stretching along the Dorset coast. It is being, very slowly, moved inland by the sea and at the same time the tides and currents have resulted in a strange phenomena. At the western end all the pebbles are the size of a pea, then they gradually increase in size so that at the eastern end they are all the size of oranges.

Chesil Beach

We entered the beach near our final stop at Abbotsbury and I would say the pebbles here are about the size of a large baked bean! The stones were small enough for Melek to enjoy himself and Mabel, as always loves a beach, even if it has no sand.

Tim on his geography field trip with Melek undertaking detailed research!

Our stop for the night was supposed to be the car park of the Swan Inn in the picturesque village of Abbotsbury. I had contacted them yesterday and they said it would be fine, providing we ate with them in the evening. When we arrived however it was difficult to see where there would be space. The landlord explained that motorhomes usually parked on the grass, but it was currently far too wet. He suggested we parked up on the adjacent village car park and said we would be fine there until at least 10 am, so that is what we have done (50.665130, -2.597284). There is a German motorhome on the car park and even if the warden arrives at 10 am, the daily rate is only £3.50.

Abbotsbury – impossibly picturesque

We’ve been for a wander around the picture perfect village, which has more thatched cottages than you can shake a stick at. Abbotsbury was once the location of a large Benedictine monastery but as usual Henry VIII put a stop to that and so the only part still standing is the largest thatched barn in the country. The village is also host to the Britain’s only swannery, which was originally started by the monastery for meat, but is now a commercial venture to fleece visitors to look at lots of swans! There are apparently 600 swans, but we decided not to pay to see a bird which is extremely numerous in our home city.

Britain’s largest thatched barn, with Chesil beach to the right

Tonight I think the pub beckons. Because we are not on their car park I suppose we are not duty bound, but psychologically I am obliged because I have been picturing myself with a pint in hand and some unhealthy dish to eat, all day.

Not another bloody thatched cottage!