Timeless In Lyme

Ever had the feeling you belong somewhere or maybe that somewhere belongs to you? It’s how I feel about Lyme Regis. Something in the fabric of the place calls to me... fanciful? Maybe, but consider this:

I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep two evenings ago, of course it could have been induced by the cider intake of that afternoon, as could the dream I had. In my dream I was at the top of Sherborne Lane, a very ancient trackway, but it was a very different Lyme that I was seeing from there. Broad Street, the main street, was instantly recognisable although the shops were certainly different; they bore unfamiliar names and carried on businesses unknown to me. This, then, was a dream of the past.

The air was chilly and I wrapped my fleece jacket around me. I had no notion of the time, but I suspected it was early evening. There were a few people around, all of them dressed in what I took to be Victorian garb. There were one or two dog-carts outside the shops, but little activity. The whole dream was pretty much devoid of colour, almost monochrome in fact, except for me. I could see I was wearing my red fleece, along with a pair of blue jeans. I attempted to interact with the passersby, but I was given a wide berth and wildly staring eyes followed my progress down Broad Street. I walked down to Cobb Gate and turned around the corner onto Marine Parade, standing silently watching the sea for a moment and the next thing I knew, I was on my settee, fully awake and musing over the particular vividness of the dream.

That was two nights ago, yesterday I had to spend some time researching the Victorian period in Lyme for the Sherlock Holmes novel I am writing. I was in the local library poring over old newspapers of the period when the following report caught my eye:

16th January 1896

‘There was a most singular occurrence in Broad Street two days ago. Several people going about their business reported that they believed they had seen a phantom. The apparition, if that’s what it was, was attired in strange dress unlike anything the witnesses had ever seen before. They all agreed as one, that he was an oldish man and had a very peculiar air about him. He was observed walking down to Cobb Gate and after looking out to sea, promptly vanished, to the consternation of those present. No further reports have been received by these offices.’

14th January. Odd, that was the evening of my dream. Oh well, perhaps I had come across this report before and dreamt myself into it! Funny what the mind can do.

A new book was published here today: ‘Lyme Past’, really just a book of old photographs with historical references and footnotes, but very informative all the same. What really interested me were the lovely black and white photos of Victorian Lyme. I settled down on the settee to study them in greater depth. I used my magnifying glass to pick up the finer details of the shop fronts etc, all of which would help the accuracy of my proposed novel. There was one in particular that caught my eye, taken from the bottom of Broad Street looking up the hill. The street is not very busy; the blurb accompanying the photo says it was taken during the early part of the evening. I scanned the shops, buildings and people with my lens and noticed an out of place sort of figure walking down Broad Street. I looked more closely. I could just make out the grey hair and the glasses and although the jacket he was wearing is rendered dark by the black and white of the film, I, of course, knew it was red.

Told you I belonged.