Bucklers Hard - Day 4: Hard Sell

Friday started with an abrupt wake-up call from Brody. He got up, turned around and sounded like he fell over. There were voices outside apparently, which must have disturbed him, but I didn't hear them.  Later we were back in the private dining room for breakfast, where we spoke to our Aussie- waiter-on-a-gap-year for so long he was called back to work by his boss! 
After a brief walk - the woodland walk is mis-advertised, it is barely long enough for more than a few strides, so after that we headed for Hatchet pond which we were told was 'just down the road'.  After a while I checked Google Maps, it is 2.7 miles away. It seems that when the shipbuilding stopped, so did the local's ability to measure.
Back at the hotel, we split up. Jo went to the garden to cross-stitch and dog sit, and I went to the Maritime Museum.  I was there for a little over 1 hour 30 minutes and had only followed the history to just after the end of WWII.  Defence spending in the 1700s was brutal.  The navy commissioned ships and put them out to tender.  There were bonuses for building quicker than agreed, and penalties for building later.  All the timber had to be cut and seasoned for two years, so don't even bid if you don't have the wood.  That, of course, has to be bought before it is cut down.  The story of Bucklers Hard is a story of multiple bankruptcies.  Except for Henry Adams, so he is the local hero.  I learned the origin of the phrase 'money for old rope'.  Old rope is untwisted and re-twisted into a soft string, like coarse wool.  It is then pushed in-between the timbers of the ship's hull and covered in pitch.  The hull is therefore waterproofed.  Clever sailors collected (for free) rope that was being replaced on other ships, then SOLD it to the ship builders.  Hence, 'money for old rope' = money for nothing.
We went to the Captain's Cabin, the Bucklers Hard restaurant for lunch and had the 'traditional' (almost) for us - soup and jacket potato.  Slightly expensive, but quite good.
Very full, we headed for Lymington.  There we walked along the high street and down to the quay.  Now is my chance to get a picture of a black headed gull.  BTW, their head is a dark grey/brown colour, but looks black in flight. Mostly, by the time I get the camera zoomed and focussed the bird has flown, this one was watching something else.

We also had ice cream, which transformed Brody's attitude from bored and scanning the pavement for food, to actively watching one or other of us.  So much so that he was walking into things on the street, and generally entertaining the public.  He did eventually get the last of the cone from each of us.  Then it was back to bored.
St Thomas' is an unusual church, both in its shape and because they have all the major building developments and their sponsors listed on plaques around the base of the balcony.
We moved on to Milford-on-sea.  This is an exaggeration, the sea is half a mile from the village.  Presumably they have been expecting coastal erosion for centuries.  We walked round the triangular village centre, and Jo went into the Co-op. Next door is a charity shop, I was browsing when a lady came out.  The conversation went something (just a little) like this:
"Can we help you?"
"No, thanks, just browsing.  My wife is in the Co-op, I can't take the dog in there"
"You can take the dog in here, come and have a look around"
"No, thanks Auntie Wainwright, I just wait here"
After a walk out along Hursts Spit (we didn't get far, it's too stoney) we returned to the village for dinner at the Smugglers Inn.  If you've arrived here via Facebook, here's a Friday Food picture for you.

Hunter Chicken was on the specials board, it tasted much better than it looked.  Nicely filled, we returned to the hotel, where Brody was more than ready for the marrow bone a kind cleaning lady had given him this morning.