Sunday, November 1, 2015

The Devil Strikes Out

Ain’t that just typical no post for ages then two come along almost simultaneously. Apologies dear reader but just had to let you all know about the latest adventure - The Agglestone. The what? I hear you cry and well you might. 

High above Studland Bay looking out towards the Isle of Wight, Christchurch, Bournemouth and Poole Harbour is a big lump of rock around which much folklore is woven and I’ve been there. How about that.

The majestic Agglestone overlooking Studland Bay

The story goes that the Devil, aiming for Corfe Castle, threw a big rock from the Isle of Wight towards the aforementioned fortification. However what with the fires of eternal damnation distorting his perspective, not allowing for the headwind, not having the chance to do any bracketing there being only one rock and his right arm being weak, either from casting sinners into the pit or from having someone sitting on it (in an ‘if it’s good enough for the Big Guy it’s good enough for me’ sort of mood) he missed by, it has to be said, more than a mile. The stone, for that it was, dropped short and landed on Godlingston Heath about a quarter of a mile short of the golf course. Personally I think he was playing golf and should’ve listened to his caddy and used a nine iron but you know these fallen angels, they just think they know it all. Anyway, the long and the short of it (or the short of it really) was that his ball/rock landed on Godlingston Heath and now stands there for all to see, a testament to Old Nick’s failure at projectile theory. At some point it became called the Agglestone and to this day stands overlooking Poole Harbour and Studland in silent testament to Old Nick’s impotence.

The majestic Sid parking his arse on the majestic stone

Now I suspect this is all baloney but it’s a good tale and it has prompted myriad folks to trudge across this rather unprepossessing bit of scrub to see a lump of rock in the middle of nowhere or almost in the middle of nowhere (he couldn’t even get that right ). Lynda & Tony, being no exception to the lure of tales of Devil hurling, loaded me into the charabanc, drove to Studland and let me loose on the Heath which was Huge Fun. The smells were outstanding, all heather, peat and undergrowth mixed with indeterminate scents which I had never before encountered. Much chat was batted back and forth between the staff about the stunning views but, as you may have noticed from my pictures I am somewhat vertically challenged so my horizon is only about ten feet in front of me and much of this breathtaking vista was completely lost on moi. I was picked up once but I was so busy swearing at the mongrel I was being ‘saved’ from that I completely forgot to register the view and my breath remained firmly where it was supposed to be. Asthma inducing visions or not I had a ball. Laid siege to the stone, tried to dig my way under it in the soft sand, pursued tantalising scents into impenetrable gorse and heather and generally wore myself out in some style. At one point a strange slithery scent wafted its way in the direction of my nostrils but Tony distracted me before I could pin it down and, by the time I got to its source, there was nothing on the path but bare sand. Some words were bandied around by the staff and ‘smooth snake’ was in there somewhere but since I have no idea what is ‘smooth snake’ all I’m left with in another uncategorised scent. More questions than answers. But hey, I’m very zen and I’m not letting it worry me over much. No doubt all will become clear eventually. 
That’s about all folks. Thanks for reading and stay tuned.

Chin chin.

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