Lyme Regis is beautiful.  It is the place I would like to retire too, open my deli, and live happily ever after next to the sea.  I can’t wait!

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We picked a scorcher of a day to go, and apparently so did the rest of the South West of England.  After hurtling around the teeny, I-used-to-see-about-one-car-every-two-weeks kind of streets and much unsuccessful space spotting a very kind lady gave us not only her car park space, but also her ticket to last the day.  Within five minutes we had found our picnic spot and settled down to people watch, snooze, munch, read (me) and listen to the first set of the tennis (Dom).

It was a perfect summer afternoon  spent wandering around the picture perfect seaside town, popping into little shops, chatting to friendly strangers (usually thanks to Dom’s phone spouting the tennis score wherever we went), paddling, and searching for fossils.  Jane Austen sure knew how to pick a good holiday spot.

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Oh, and Andy Murray won Wimbledon!

We took our fish and chips over to the harbour and ate them dangling our feet high over the clear blue sea looking out over the English Channel all the way to France.  After one last walk around the harbour, we said goodbye to France and it was time to go home – I don’t think we would have ever been ready to leave.  If only every day could be a Sunday…

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A very strange stranger it must be, who does not see charms in the immediate environs of Lyme, to make him wish to know it better.

Jane Austen, Persuasion

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