Page 29 - C:\Users\Jim\AppData\Local\Temp\mso6E80.tmp

Isle of Purbeck observa ons by
a Transylvanian middle-aged man

Dan Babei

So where I'm heading at the weekend I hear you ask

Well, to the Mecca of the Dorset coast. Where the smell of
manure meets the briney breeze. The mucky red cheeked
farmer in his sodden rusty truck meets the pale skinned hikers or
climbers clad in their shiny crinkly fabrics.
Where the sleepy ammonites under the rolling green duvets
meet the relentless wave filled with sea weeds and plas cs all
blessed together by erosion.
The red legs and smelly boots gravitate towards the farty smells
of ale and chips in me for sunsets and smiles.

The scene is pastoral, meless yet also middle class trendy,
serene yet ac on packed. A portal to another me, not yet very
ethnically diverse, isola ng yet inclusive. Muck on expensive
boots. Windswept bovines, a murder of crows.

27