Some Time In Lyme

I've been living in this little corner of England for over three years now, but only visited the nearby town of Lyme Regis a handful of times. Worse still, I've only ever really walked along the promenade and round the harbour.

It's quite a pretty harbour and town centre, but much of this is lost under the stampede of summer tourists. With this in mind, last month I set off to explore the back streets, the paths less travelled. In the end I'm sure I only just scratched under the surface, but I was so pleasantly surprised by the curious little corners, the meandering and quirky walkways and the hickledy-pickledy houses and cottages that I'll definitely return for another dose.

One of the first of my little discoveries was this old post box mounted into the wall. On the wall above was a little blue plaque - I'm a sucker for these and often risk life and limb crossing busy roads just for that little thrill of knowing I might be walking in the footsteps of historic giants. Sadly this time there was no mention that a famous person was born here, or died near here, or even just paused for thought somewhere close by, but it did tell me that this was one of the oldest post boxes in the country dating back at least as far as 1799 - long before we started liberally adorning them in bright, shiny, red paint. In fact, at that time it was more usual for people to gather in the street, or at least send their children into the street waiting for the daily, or even weekly mail coach. And today we complain if our broadband speed fails to deliver an email within 20 seconds.

It was a pity that the yellow lines ran along this road, making it just that bit harder to imagine a mail coach bouncing along this lane, although I have since read that this is in fact the oldest street in the whole town. Now bearing in mind that the town was considered so important that King Edward I granted it a royal charter as far back as 1284, and indeed it was mentioned in the Domesday Book of 1086, that must make this little lane easily over a thousand years old.

Clearly the designs of the houses did not date back anywhere near that far, but there was still a marvellous uniqueness to each and every one, a trait so often lost in modern towns and cities with their anonymous plate glass windows, and repetitive greyness as far as the eye can see. Here in Lyme it was as if the whole town had got together in the town hall one evening and decided between them who was to have which colour paint to brighten their house.

Standing in a little gated garden I couldn't decide whether the widest variety of colour was among the flowers or indeed the buildings surrounding them. And it wasn't just the colours that changed with every step, but the styles of building and their purpose.

Along a row of what initially appeared to be traditional Georgian houses, there would randomly appear a bakery, or an art gallery and with very little announcement a museum of fossils boldly named Dinosaurland!

Lyme Regis, for those who have not visited, is another town along Dorset's Jurassic Coast, 95 miles of rocks and cliffs afforded World Heritage status, alongside such greats as The Grand Canyon. Almost every stride along the beaches, particularly nearer Lyme, you are likely to be walking on fossils of sea creatures 150-200 million years old. Many will be no larger than a coin, but occasionally true giants are discovered that previously we might only have guessed at in films.

Anyway, as tempting as it was to dart into the museum, I remained true to my promise and strolled on through the back streets of Lyme.

It's only now, when I look up on Google Maps the names of the streets, that I realise just how little of this remarkable town I wandered around. I may have just been lucky finding the only hidden corner of town to have so many diverse little charms, but I somehow doubt it.

Around another corner, at the junction of Coombe Street and Sherbourne Lane if you happen to be in the area, I discovered one of those more traditional, scarlet post boxes tucked neatly into the wall of a bridge.

I've no doubt the bridge is considerably the older, but it was pleasing to see that the addition of the more modern post box did nothing to detract from beauty of the old stone.

And there, from that bridge, I found the most unexpected sight of the day, and it wasn't the little family of ducklings frantically chasing around after their mum. Rather it was a scene that could easily have been taken from a hillside village in Provence. A rocky, drying river flowing under the road and beside tall, colourfully-shuttered houses, weaving its quiet way, almost unnoticed, through the back streets and houses of Lyme Regis. But running parallel to this river, and about 4 metres higher, was another little stream.

It ran almost touching the front doors of the houses lined along this miniature valley. Indeed, each house had their own little stone bridge crossing this small stream to their front doors from the pedestrian path that divided the rivers. It was utterly charming in so many ways, but not least of which because I was almost the only person there to enjoy it.

I'm sure there is plenty more to explore of the town, but for now I'll leave that for the summer tourists and the kids who will shortly be running free from their schools, but already I'm determined and eagerly looking forward to another day of discovery in the autumn.

In my next blog, I'll talk about the photography and digital painting styles I've used here.