Sorry, sorry, sorry for my absence yesterday, alas (or, hoorah!) 'I lunched not wisely but too well'! Friends arrived at 11.00 for coffee, mince pies and gossip - you can't have one without the other two. At 12.00 they drove us down to the ever-excellent Hive Beach Cafe at Burton Bradstock which has featured in these columns before. The drive down is superb, right across the heart of Hardy country - not jaw-droppingly amazing, just long views of gently rolling English countryside, so easy on the eye and the heart. The journey was 98.5% glorious sunshine - the remaining 1.5% of howling gale and tropical rain arrived just before we reached our destination and needless to say the ladies agreed unanimously that it was all the fault of us chaps as they fought their way across the carpark, expensive hairdos turning to disasters in seconds and smart dresses and shoes ruined forever! Anyway, for the rest of the day we 'enjoyed' what the locals would designate as "That do be a proper sou'-wester a-comin' up the Western Approaches" or something like that. Suffice to say that such was the ferocity of the gale that during lunch I was tempted to step out onto the headland and give the patrons of the Cafe a bit of Lear: "Blow winds and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!/ You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout" I just know, darlings, how much they would have appreciated it but unfortunately such was the power of the wind they would not have heard a word so I stayed where I was and instead ordered another bottle of very drinkable Merlot!
I have described the Hive Beach Cafe before but to remind you, most of it is formed by a light aluminium framework with fold-down canvas 'walls' with clear plastic windows set in them. The wind outside obviously looked upon this somewhat fragile structure as a challenge but happily it did not prevail. Inside were scores of loonies customers enjoying a slap-up Christmas lunch with all the trimmings. The internal heaters were going full blast but it was still a tad chilly and I felt the need for some inner warmth and thus the Merlot flowed copiously. (Well, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.) Mind you, the Christmas pudding could have been served via an optic there was so much liquor in it!
And so there we sat eating and drinking - and then drinking some more - as the sun slowly sank in the west. That last phrase was a bit of 'artistic interpretation' because you couldn't see the sun through the ten/tenths cloud cover that was down to about 500' and from which poured enough water to drown all the global warming fanatics in the world. As we left, the amateur thesp in me did briefly consider reprising the late Mr. Gene Kelly's routine in "Singing in the Rain" but a glance at the Memsahib's face stopped me before I could begin - dammit, I'm sure that woman can read my mind at times!
So, a rather eccentric, seaside but highly enjoyable lunch and now I am in the Christmas spirit, or perhaps that should read, the Christmas spirit is in me!