On unexpectedly warm September day when I'd think twice of going out without a cardigan, we went to explore the village quietly squatted underneath castle I previously talked about here. Everywhere one turns, gets hit with a stone (metaphorically), old but beautifully restored wooden doors with brass knockers and windows so low you can actually peek inside shamelessly take me straight to Shire in the Middle-earth as described by Tolkien. It felt like inspecting a miniature town and if I was invited inside I'd wait with a withdrawn breath. Once inside I'd look down on its inhabitants asking them to put the light on to diffuse the afternoon gloom while being offered a mug of hot drink. My imagination... Corfe Castle village makes magical holiday spot with lots of garden walks, bread and cheese picnics in the church graveyard (have I really said that?) shouting instant 'quiet spot' with barely a soul making his/her way to well-known destinations.
