Max Gate

On day 5 of our trip, we got in the car...with me behind the wheel for the first time, and set out driving from Canterbury to Dorset. When we were planning this day, we had a few choices, and Christina humored me by agreeing to go to Hardy country. Hardy being, of course, Thomas Hardy...who wrote Tess of the d'Urbervilles and Return of the Native and Far From the Madding Crowd.

When we were roommates (way back when BYU Idaho was Ricks College), Chris had to read Tess for an English class. I had read it as a senior, and since it was lying around the apartment (Chris refused to read it), I read it again. It was one of my favorites in high school (which is really saying something...I really didn't like required reading at that point). I've since read it a couple more times, and I still love the book. Chris still hates the book. This is why I say she humored me by visiting Dorset instead of Glastonbury.

So, I got us safely out of Canterbury without hitting anything (pedestrian or vehicle) with the left-side mirror of my car, following Mavis' navigating instructions. Mavis was what we named our GPS voice. She had a calming effect (probably thanks to the British accent), and would say "Go right on the roundabout, third exit," and when you missed the exit, she would say it again, just as calmly. Except often times the roundabouts weren't so straight-forward and were "Go right on the roundabout, fifth exit," which would leave the person who was not driving to count the exits out loud so we didn't find ourselves driving in the opposite direction from where we wanted to be going.

The countryside opened up into rolling green hills, which I largely missed, because my focus was on the road. And also partly because they have hedgerows growing on the sides of all the motorways and it is hard to get a view of anything without pulling over and standing on tip-toes. But every now and then we crested a hill and a gorgeous view opened up in front of us and we would gasp in awe of the beauty that is southern England.

Another thrill of driving in England is the names of all the towns and villages you pass. There was one sign we passed giving mileage to a village called Piddlehinton. I was immediately seized with a fit of giggles at this name, and Chris said to me "Did you see the name of the town below it?!" Turned out it was Puddletown. We both giggled like school-girls over the unfortunate names of these towns, wondering where they came from, and if the locals find it as funny as we apparently did.

As we were got closer to Dorchester, I was getting nervous. We did not have an exact postal code to give Mavis to get us directly there. And Max Gate (which was Thomas Hardy's house) was only recently acquired by the National Trust, so it isn't that well known. I hastily pulled into a car park so we could ask directions. In reality, I had just narrowly missed being hit by another car, and I'm sure I was cursed at on my way into the car park, and I had to collect my nerves. Parking the car momentarily, Chris tells me to ask someone walking through the car park if they know where Max Gate is. Laughing inwardly while thinking "Yeah, right...if she does know where it is, I am never going to be able to understand the directions! I need her in my car to act as my Mavis if we are going to get out of this parking lot, let alone to Max Gate!," I say in my most polite American accent "Excuse me, do you happen to know where Max Gate is?" The planets and stars had all aligned for us (as was evident with the weather we experienced) and she did know. Luck smiled on me even more as she explained how to get there, and I actually understood where she was explaining and I remembered the directions exactly. We drive right there. Literally. It was meant to be that we visit the birthplace of the book Tess. I bought a copy of it while there. Something neat about buying the book in the house it which it was written.

It was a very welcoming welcome, after the nerve-racking drive there.

Thomas Hardy was also an architect, and he designed this house. The ladies working here said that his father apparently did not appreciate his design of this house. The floor plan was a bit odd, but it was a neat old house.

Some of the furniture was original to the house, but the house had been rented and lived in up until very recently. They believe this was a secretary's desk, and the typewriter is not original to the house, but still cool.

Bathroom with an interesting toilet.

Thomas Hardy's study.

View out of one of the upstairs windows.

In one of the (hot) upstairs attic rooms where his wife spent most of her time. I just liked the textiles displayed here.

Another decoration that I loved. :)

Neat old shed

View of the garden off a porch.

Back view of the house. You can see the porch (or green-house, really) from where I took the above picture.

This is one plant I never thought I'd see growing in England. I had no idea palm trees grew there.

Cool old water pump.