Day two.

I was going to start this entry like the shipping forecast, then realised that I had no idea how to begin, lacking as I am and having still not read Charlie Connelly's book about it. Sorry Charlie. Needless to say, the day started with rain remeniscent of my Nan's bed sheets blowing on the line. Billowing, constant, wet. Corfe Castle (or it's teetering remains) was our first port of call. Duly handing over half an arm and one leg to Clerk 1, we entered the grounds of the spectacular ruin. Now, is it a ruin that is a spectacle, or a ruin that was spectacularly ruined? You'll have to visit to find out. Mind you, there are some simply huge walls that even Whimpey Homes would struggle to describe as 'within tolerances'. The wind and rain continued to lash like Simon Cowell's tongue, forcing us to randomly shelter 'neath the stonework. A break allowed a hurried lunch of sandwiches and wasps, then on to yet another Pay and Display, sorry that should have been an ampasand (& for everyone else) rather than 'and' that sucks you dry of change like a tuppeny East End lady of ill repute would other parts of you. Imagine for a moment, a world without pockets, we'd be in a constant transport loop, never daring to stop! One long walk ensued to gasp at the mainland's version of the infamous Isle of Wight's Needles. I bet the Needles doesn't have flies. Back again to a neat little beach with 'facilities' that consisted of a whimp serving random Fairtrade comestibles from a wooden hut. Sod the foreign farmers, just give me a cup of honest Bwitish tea! We didn't conquer India for nothing you know!
Return to camp via Wareham for a quick stop at Sainsburys. Would you believe, they don't sell chillies there, so we had Con Carne for dinner instead. Fortunately, they sold me some wine. What I would really like though, is a mobile network. Let's see what tomorrow brings.