"I didn't think it would be so cold!"

Doorway in Cerne Abbas

At the end of February we had visitors: cousins from Norway. "Why did they want to visit in February?" we asked. "Nothing's open. It will probably be pouring with rain." But come they did and it wasn't raining. But it was bitterly cold with an icy wind and occasional flurries of snow, though none settled. Fortunately, despite not expecting the cold two of them had brought cold-weather clothing whilst the other, seemingly immune to the freezing temperatures, wore just a tee-shirt and jeans throughout his stay.

One day we drove to Cerne Abbas, our cousins exclaiming along the way at the rolling hills, large (relative to those in Norway) fields and the varieties of trees. It wasn’t something I’d really thought about, but visitors to Norway exclaim at the magnificent snow-capped mountains towering over fathomless fiords where the roads bend and wind their way along the valleys and round the moutains rather than over them. And where gaining any height means long zig-zags of very low gradients. Contrast that to south Dorset where Roman-style the roads plough straight ahead, regardless of the climb or descent, or follow meandering streams, ancient drovers’ routes or parish boundaries, dog-legging back and forth. Familiar to us, but a new experience for our visitors.

The old Cerne Abbey Guesthouse

We had coffee at an inn– where the publican has found country life too quiet and is returning to Berkshire near where we moved from – before strolling through this picturesque village. Medieval wood-framed houses with carved wooden front doors line the street leading up to the remains of the Abbey (870 to 1509), and a tiny stream flows along a stone-lined gutter from St Augustine’s Well. All that remains of the Abbey are the guesthouse (now a private house), Abbey Barn and Abbot’s Porch – all privately owned – but open to visitors on the day we were there.

On to the pretty market town of Sherborne with a very brief stop on the way to photograph the ancient Cerne Abbas giant carved into the chalk hillside from the viewing point. The town is a bustling place full of thriving independent shops and a beautiful abbey, originally a cathedral built when the diocese of Winchester was split into two in AD 705 and Andhelm (later St Andhelm) became the first of 27 bishops. He chose the place of the Scire-burne – the ‘clear stream’ – as the site for his seat, or cathedra. Soon after the Norman Conquest the bishop's seat was moved to what is now Salisbury. (Read more here.)

Finally, a drive via Beaminster, Bridport and the coast road back to Weymouth in failing light. Not the best conditions for viewing scenery, especially when the passenger windows of the car are heavily tinted. Hopefully, they'll be back one day in the warmer, lighter months when the sea is as blue as the Mediterranean and in the summer evenings trees cast lingering shadows as the setting sun softly lights the hills and fields with a warm, golden glow.