I was visiting Dorset and taking part in a self-made experiment I wasn’t even aware I was participating in. Until I clocked all the couples sitting at other tables. I had wondered why it had been tricky to get a table at the (chain) pub I was staying in for the night. Here, hitting me right in the face, was the explanation that had been missing in my mind and my holiday planning.
Jurassic Coast
I had a few days free and wanted to explore the Jurassic coast. Durdle Door has got to be one of the most famous pieces of coastline in the UK and I’d never been there, it seemed like a good enough reason to pack up the car and head on out, taking a side journey to Poundbury, the new town extension to Dorchester, built on Duchy of Cornwall land according to architectural principles set out in Prince Charles’ ‘Vision of Britain’. I didn’t even register the dates I’d be away. I’d booked two nights at the pretty, thatched roof Castle Inn ,West Lulworth and one night at the Duchess of Cornwall Inn, in the heart of Poundbury.
Lulworth Cove
I was in a marvellous mood, arriving at Lulworth just ahead of the ‘golden hour’ on a gloriously sunny, crisp day. Ditching the car in the nearest car park, I raced along the coastal path to watch the sun setting in pretty much just the company of a family with small children (good luck getting them back to the road in the dark, I thought). It was gratifyingly beautiful and I mused “yes, the fuss is completely justified, it doesn’t half take a good picture”. Duh, I have some pretty basic thoughts when I’m staring at the face of beauty, for sure; Good job I’ve never come face to face with a supermodel.
After meandering back along the path, satiated from the sunset, dinner and a comfy bed beckoned – and the Castle delivered. A hearty meal, with just a few curious punters looking across at my table, pondering why I was eating alone. I was happy to leave them guessing and trot off to my room for a plush mattress and mindless tv – sometimes that’s all you want out of a bit of R&R. I don’t know if I want more or less of it since the pandemic, but I still enjoy it.
The next day, let’s call it V-day minus one, I spent an equally lovely day on the beach at Studland, popping into the cafe, browsing the national trust jams and tea towels after a bracing walk along the sand with the dog walkers of Dorset. Nobody seemed to be taking much notice of the signs announcing the naturist beach at the far end of the bay. Mind you, if anyone had wanted to take their clothes off in that wind chill, fair play to them. It’s a cracking sandy beach, pardon the pun and definitely worth a visit.
Chesil Beach got a look in too – but was the polar opposite of Studland. Wind whipped, grey, stoney. Invigorating for a quick dash out of the car, but not inviting enough to want to stay for long. A good power walk over the steep shingles, but maybe one to tuck into the back pocket for a warmer, calmer day. There’s apparently lots of cafes along its 18 mile length, so it’s obviously popular for strolling and fishing. I just wanted to visit because of Ian McEwan’s eponymous novel and my curiosity was satisfied.
Poundbury
After another evening tucked away in the Castle, V-day arrived without really notifying me. I was excited for Poundbury, being utterly curious to see whether it would feel like a real town or a complete pastiche of Georgian England. I really hate the endless, same same housing estates we seem to build without a scrap of imagination in this country. Would this be better or worse?
It’s laid out with a main square, a market square called the Buttermarket and plenty of shops, workshop units and apartments alongside terraced housing, mews and squares for residents. It feels like you are on a film set; there’s been some careful thought about how to mix property types and what to do to reduce the visibility and use of cars, but you can’t create a town and expect it to ‘bed in’ straight away, it still feels new and a little unreal. But it’s aesthetically attractive for all its strange newness. It made me realise how much we take for granted the historic buildings in our towns and cities – and how they grow organically (sometimes into a terrible mish mash, other times into something wonderful, revealing the layers of time like an archaeological dig).
Valentine's Day
My corner room at the Duchess of Cornwall, was perfect for spying on the people strolling around the square below, but I was hungry (as always) so grabbed a drink in the bar and made my way up to the restaurant. And this is where we entered the conversation… With a room full of couples, apparently after some faux Georgian architectural decoration to declare their love to their partners. Me and a room full of couples. Sore thumb? Maybe. Surprised? Definitely. But that wasn’t the question. The real question was ‘how did this feel on a comfort level from 1 to 10’? It started at a perturbed 8, with a glass of wine a 7. When I started to tune into the conversations around me, or the lack thereof, it came racing down to a lowly two. Totally comfortable.
Have you seen those couples, pretending it is the most loving of all love days when actually they’ve got a pile of chores to do at home and a boxset they’re itching to get into? Having planned to be romantic in a chain pub, sharing the (perfectly delicious) baked camembert and sirloin steak, they are going to have to put on the air of love for a couple of hours, maybe three if they’re having a drink. Smug? Me? Absolutely. Valentine’s day is a little like New Year’s Eve in my mind, sometimes I’ll have the greatest time ever, but don’t force me into being the jolliest of jolly or the lovingest of loving. Those happy moments tend to come spontaneously, wrapped up in a surprise when just knocking about with the ones you love.
On reflection, would I recommend dining alone on Valentine’s day? Probably not, but only because the conversation at other tables has the potential to be so dire. And when you’re dining alone, tuning into conversations is part of the fun.