The day of burning
Today I managed to just about complete my chapter on critical theory, Marx and critique and to burn my legs in an hour lying on Chesil Beach. Apart from a telephone call with H just now I have not interacted with a single person today.
Miles 21 on the bike down through Abbotsbury to the car park by the beach and back via Dorchester Tesco.
Average speed 26mph
Maximum temperature 28 C – phew (well, phew for this country)
Dorchester old and New
Thursday I rode in to Dorchester and after going round a few circles as usual found somewhere to park. It was quite a practical visit. I bought magazines in Smiths (how I love Smiths - I bought the British Journal of Photography and a new bike mag about customs called, I think, Built, with superb photography if you like that kind of thing) and stood outside Boots hanging on their free wi-fi to download to my phone notes about nurses on strike and the details of a couple of films I am mentioning that involve nurses – one being The English Patient, sentimental but beautifully shot. Finally, after passing so many town centre coffee chains and tourist tea rooms, I found a great independent coffee shop off the beaten track just next to where I had parked and had the most delicious coffee before heading back. Does coffee really smell nicer in these places than in chains lime Costa or is it just that I am thirstier when I go in? I also found Waitrose Dorchester – in a huge huge brand new development of fake classical buildings to the West of the city. Every shop there seems to sell mobility aids or be a nursing agency. The demographic here is definitely on the oldy side. Those zimmer frames with wheels and bags attached are the common mode of transport on the streets here.
I am just starting to build up momentum writing.
Look:
