I have just spent one of the most silly weekends of my life at
the Richmoor Hotel. The staff totally hammed it up by creating Basil, Sybil,
Manuel and the amazing Polly! I haven't laughed so much in ages, it was a
perfect stage to show off their talents, and I highly recommend it.
The rooms were clean and bright, and the bed was so comfortable, we partied the night away with karaoke both nights, plus a live entertainer on the Saturday. I can't rate this place enough, it is my fourth visit in three years, and I have already started to plan my next trip, keep up the good work guys!
The rooms were clean and bright, and the bed was so comfortable, we partied the night away with karaoke both nights, plus a live entertainer on the Saturday. I can't rate this place enough, it is my fourth visit in three years, and I have already started to plan my next trip, keep up the good work guys!
Room Tip: Sea View is right on the money.
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In the morning I joined in the laborious work of
stripping beds and refreshing all the rooms that had been in use during the past
weekend. Found myself unexpectedly working alongside Chloe’s father – I had
thought his face looked awfully familiar! His parents are Irish and his name is
Kieran. (I really like that name – though I’ve never heard it before that I am
aware of.) The most I have ever seen of him is as he comes and goes from the
hotel when he has come to collect his daughter for a visit, or when he and
Charlotte are exchanging cross words. I didn’t realize he would ever show up as
one of the grunts, but here he was. Was a lot more articulate and intelligent
than I had realized – a real breathing, feeling human being – as I observed him
up close and personal. He was telling me how he and his partner have begun
thinking of having a child, but that it seemed wrong to have Chloe’s sibling
with anyone other than Chloe’s mom. He said that he had proposed to Charlotte,
one last time, that she and he renew their relationship and be the ones to have
a second child. She, however, is not interested.
To most all of the guys (male staff) who work in
and around the hotel, I am affectionately known as ‘Debs.’ In a light-hearted moment, one even referred to me as 'Debster.' (In fact, often in email correspondence some of my single guy friends refer to me as 'Debs,' as well. Interesting that it is usually a man saying it - pretty much never a woman - I suppose it's part of that teasing banter in which males participate.
Loraine made good on her offer by taking the remaining singles on a little excursion to see several local sites during the afternoon –
all within a 15 mile radius of Weymouth. There were enough of us so that we
could not all fit in her van, so she enlisted Paula in our branch, the one with
the awesome Dodge van who I had gone to see Les Mis with, to haul all of us,
while Loraine and Andy led the way in his Audi sports car. One of several things
we visited was Durdle Door, a rock arch that sits in the sea. This formation,
part of the Jurassic coast, plus other rock you can see jutting up out of the
water, are remnants of what several eons ago would have been the edge of the
land. As the icecaps have melted and the sea advanced, the chain of formations
in which Durdle Door occurs have been mostly covered over with water.
It was an actual, though short, hike to get down to it. (Yes – haven’t had enough of those in this country!) AND it was very cold and blustery.
It was an actual, though short, hike to get down to it. (Yes – haven’t had enough of those in this country!) AND it was very cold and blustery.
In addition, we saw the old church in which the
funeral for T.E. Lawrence, aka Lawrence of Arabia, was held, plus we visited
his grave site, a couple miles further away. Born in 1888, Lawrence had entered
into English folklore as an Army officer especially renowned for his liaison
role during the Sinai and Palestine Campaign and the Arab Revolt against
Ottoman Turkish rule of 1916-18. From the Radio Times: at the start, he was ‘the
most unpromising of military heroes: small, intellectual,
shy, noted for his slovenly dress and a lack of regard for military hierarchy
or status. But as ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ he invented a new kind of warfare,
played a pivotal role in the First World War and emerged from the deadliest
conflict in history as – probably – the greatest and most celebrated public
hero of the age.
His dream had been that he would become the
prophet of a movement that would deliver independence to the Arabs. Even as he
was fighting in the desert, this dream was betrayed and Britain and France
conspired to partition liberated Arabia into their respective spheres of
influence. By the war’s end, he was, reluctantly, a celebrity. Millions
went to see Lawrence of Arabia, the
David Lean film about his exploits, which marks its 50th anniversary this year.
After a war that had sent a generation of young men to futile deaths, Lawrence
became the hero that the British Empire craved; plus he was lionized in the U.S.
But his warnings – that Britain’s Arab
allies had been betrayed by the postwar settlement – went unheeded and to this
day cast a shadow over the West’s relationship with the Arab world. The
subject of the 1962 epic was brutally honest and warned of the realities of
occupation experi-enced today.'
The date would put me in my late junior high
years. The sights and sounds of seeing that film live on in my memory - one of
the first I can remember, next to Gone with the Wind, that was SO long it had an intermission. I must have been about
thirteen and VERY impressionable. I thought the actor, Peter O’Toole, was about
the dreamiest man alive – and British to boot! (More fuel for the full-fledged
Anglophile that I eventually grew up to be.)
The ironic thing about today’s sight-seeing – the ONLY
time Loraine has offered to take us around for a tour/drive in the area – is that
no sooner had we taken off from the hotel than it began to snow – great big fat
flakes, floating down. The first for me – for both! Didn’t stop us, however –
though, never having been told what we were actually up to, I admit that clothing-wise
I was not adequately prepared. It was quite cold down there on the beach. I could only stand to be there for a short amount of time; my fingers felt like they were frost bitten by the time I climbed back into the van. Darn! (Reminds me of the one and only time I hiked up the back of Timp - a breathtaking vista, with a glacier that is flowing imperceptibly down into a small emerald lake. It had been the 4th of July, and since it was SO hot down in the valley, I had no idea that by the time we climbed a thousand feet or so, it would be freezing cold - very ill-equipped that time, as well! Only took a small snack - not even any water. Who's taking care of this lot then?!)
Later in the evening spent some time with Adrian,
a nice single man – never been married, from Lowestoft in the county of Suffolk,
the
most easterly point of the United Kingdom (pronounced
Low·e·stoft, from Saxon for 'lover’s field') – staying over for a couple more
days. We had each brought out our computers to share some information. I wonder
what the other guests thought seeing these two old computer geeks in the bar, and
without drinks– must have been quite the sight! (He asked me if we had the term
‘silver surfer’ in America?! I said, ‘no, but we should!’)
Photos_
1- snowdrops – popping up out of the grass to let
the world know that spring is just around the corner!
2- the Jurassic coast
3- hike down to Durdle Door
4- Durdle Door, showing its relation to its sister
strata, all but lost in the surf
5- a young Peter O’Toole - who cares about T. E.
Lawrence!
6- Adrian, on the left, who you’ll see reference to during the next couple of days
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