The Cobb, John Fowles, A Maggot & invisible worlds

This February, I drove to Lyme Regis - I had a sudden wish to walk upon the Cobb - I wanted to look out upon the fossil strewn coast - I'd been thinking about John Fowles - Anne had read the French Lieutenant's Woman for her book group - I had seen the film, with a sinewy Jeremy Irons, but had not, myself, read the book -

There was, inevitably, a crumpled copy of The Magus somewhere in our attic - but I had been truly beguiled by A Maggot - the strange narratives I read there stirred my soul - I looked out for shining craft, floating over the water meadows -

I jumped into the red Peugeot, setting off in the early morning - I listened to Paul Buchanan singing Mid Air - I was ravished with melancholy - there was a thick mist over the dual carriageway beyond Dortchester - I could see trees, bare and glistening, upon the summits of hills -

By the time I drove through Chideok, the mist had thinned - in Lyme Regis, it had rolled away - I walked downhill, through narrow streets, to the seafront - the sun sparkled upon the waves -

The sweeping curves of the Cobb enclosed a small harbour - tough looking fishing boats were moored there - some flowers were placed next to a perilous ladder - I ran my hand over some worn steps, feeling the past like icy water upon my fingers -

The stone slabs of the Cobb were inclined seawards - the swell pushed waves against the sides of the Cobb - electric spray stung my face - I looked downwards at the dangerous foam -

I made my way to the very end of the Cobb - the sea was calm inside the harbour - I could see, far off, the line of the Jurassic Coast - faint outlines of chalk cliffs, dim promontories -

I sent a text to Jay saying that I'd seen no Lieutenants or their women - but I remembered the flowers - whose death had those worn blooms marked? How many invisible worlds jostled one, every moment?

I then had a savage hunger for cod and chips -