The West Country is good for the soul. When I get down there I feel so many layers of nonsense peel off me. It literally sheds off as we turn off the A303, a bit at a time with every farm shop, thatched roof, tea room and sheep we go past. All the rubbish stuff falls and away and I can get a great feel-good "Eat Pray Love" type head on... Except for instead of pasta, Indian monks and Javier Bardem I have scones, brisk British sea air and my lovely husband! ;) Though it's a shame Steve refuses to even attempt the accent... Same diff!
And when we get there I remember every time that kids already know what the "good stuff" is... They just pop with smiley eyes at the fresh air, sticky cakes, outdoors clothes, unnoticed scaped knees, made sandy car floors and grubby hands.
So here we are, road tripped down to Dorset for a cousins wedding and stopping to breathe in some brain space at West Bay in Dorset! <3
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