Bridport

Last week a visit to Bridport, a town we have not been to for a while and a town which turned out to be rather like King's Lynn (see 12th August 2013). That is to say a place which was a middle sized working town near the seaside and which is now struggling to come to terms with the new world, struggling to get as many holiday makers in as possible. A town which included a good mixture of residents, from county types in green wellies, through arties in elderly long hair, to affordables in tattoos, although it was not altogether clear whether Snook the hatter, established 1896, catered for the county types or the bucket & spade types or both.

The big industry of yesteryear was rope and net for the Newfoundland trade (not clear why a rope town would specialise in a particular fish place in that way) and the once imposing building illustrated was the Edward's Building from the 1890's, when it produced nets for fish and footballs. Now broken into small units doing various more or less exotic business.

And behind the Edward's Building we had the Palmer's Brewery Complex, still up and running, including a disused water wheel in the west river designed by a French general and still running to a decent tied estate. I think I once came across a stray Palmer's house behind Heathrow's Bath Road, in the margins of some very important conference.

So we had the old town a couple of miles inland, between the east and west rivers. Lots of old buildings, with lots of holes in them to let the horses and carts through to their yards. Then to the south, in what one supposes was marsh land, the industrial area above, then West Bay. West Bay was home to a handsome, steep shingle beach which looked good for swimming although the undertow was said to be a bit strong. Interesting sandstone cliffs to the east. Accommodation included old cottages, smart new flats, a trailer park and a large old pub, the Bridport Arms Hotel. But, as it happened, we had opted to stay in the Bridge House Hotel in Bridport proper, hard by the bridge over the east river. A hotel which among other virtues was able to offer a proper kipper for breakfast, locally smoked by http://www.chesilsmokery.com/ although not locally caught. A large kipper which had been simmered rather than grilled, only marred by being buttered, a pity as I prefer my kippers dry: the idea is to draw the fat with simmering and not then to add cow fat to replace the fish fat. I think they took their cooking seriously, so I could probably get it done right on another occasion.

PS: illustration courtesy of http://www.enterprisestmichaels.org.uk/heritage/.