Such a Purbeck Day

Swanage Town & Herston v Parley Sports 

Every couple of years I make the pilgrimage to Swanage watch the football. This is for two reasons:-

1. Days Park is one of the most joyous places to watch football I can imagine

2. Swanage is in the middle of an epic circular, train-bus-castle-steam train-football-open top bus-chain link ferry-train, move.

The continued rail engineering works in the Bath area meant the Bristol-Weymouth trains were being re-timed and conveniently, diverted via Swindon. An added bonus was that on Saturday, these can run as an HST, so instead of being cramped onto a two car unit, instead we were able to spread out over the 8 coaches and also take advantage of the St Austell – Admirals Ale that the buffets are now stocking.

Arrival into Dorchester West.

Today I was joined by a couple of others, including the infamous Mad Dai from Cardiff. See reports previous for more details of his sectionings. First issue of the day was we couldn’t find any pubs in Dorchester with early opening. No problem for Dai as he proclaimed he knew exactly where we could get a drink, leading us somewhat unexpectedly to the Dorset Dinosaur Museum cafeteria, which was licensed and had Dorset Brewing Company in bottles. The woman at the front desk wasn’t having it that we just wanted to visit the café, and we had to negotiate the use of a family ticket for three adults in order to get in.

After a Jurassic Ale and a Chesil Beach, we headed to the recently opened Brew House, which is one of the Brew Pub chain. The brewery is guide, the pub not. It is located in the old Dorchester South station buildings, adjacent to the old Eldridge Pope Brewery which is another traditional regional outfit destroyed by those cunts at Marstons.

Local themed pint was had from the on site brewery.

Next was the short walk to Dorchester South Station, for a South West Trains Service to Wareham.  The service was heading for Waterloo, calling all shacks. Can’t say I would be overjoyed doing 3 hours in a outer-suburban 450 Desiro unit.

Though the alternative was being talked to death by Dai.

On to Wareham for the next two days. First of all the Kings Head for a Dorset – American Pale Ale. I didn’t get a photo as the outside was packed with a load of cyclists in fancy dress.

Next GBG was the Quay Inn, unsurprisingly located on the quayside, along with this market, with a suspiciously familiar slogan.

By now the fancy dress cyclists from the other pub had arrived…

...which led to this sight as we entered the pub. Poor selection meant we had to make do with a Ringwood.

Next move was the Wilts and Dorset, Breeze 40. Bournemouth depot kicking out a Scania, branded for the University services.

Soon we encountered the fancy dress cyclists again…

...and once we had got passed them the tractors appeared.

But eventually Corfe Castle appeared on the horizon, and being randomly flagged down by a wrinkly old bloke in running vest and shorts, gave the opportunity to really compose the money shot of the castle from the front window of a Scania N230UD OmniCity.

Into Corfe Castle.  Dai checks as there might be someone on the bus he hasn't talked to.

Destination in Corfe was the Royal British Legion, the only GBG pub.

Under the watchful eye of the queen, an Exeter – Ferryman was had. CAMRA were also present, doing a scoring session. One bloke was measuring the glasses with a ruler; just drink the beer you wanker.

As with all forces clubs, it was well stocked with rolls.

Wandered back into the town and managed to compose a picture of the castle being obscured by a lamp post.

Next move was on the steam railway. Except after buying tickets, we found the kettle had failed so instead a class 33 diesel turned up.

Usual unspectacular chuntering from the shredder, as we first passed a U Class 2-6-0 Mogul…

...and then Battle of Britain Class 4-6-2 34070 Manston took over duties for our train at Swanage.

So, finally at the seaside.

Next a short move on the open topped Wilts and Dorset Coaster 50 service.

Beach at /Swanage was busy, with a notable sea haze.

us was taken to the outskirts of town, to non-leagues most signposted ground. Firstly through the municipal car park…..

...then the entrance to the ground itself, with Dai signalling how many people in Dorset he hadn't yet chatted to…

...then on the perimeter wall…

…the clubhouse.

Swanage Town & Herston 0 v Parley Sports 3, Bespoke Teamwear Dorset Premier League

After rising up from the Dorset leagues, Swanage Town & Herston FC played in the top division of the Western League in the 70s and 80s, before dropping down through the Wessex league in the 90s, back to their Dorset Roots.

Parley are based in the Poole suburbs. They have a massive clubhouse, but their ground only has portable dug outs and a roped off pitch. They dominated the Dorset Combination in the 1980s, but since then have had mixed results.

The ground is an absolute classic, having been developed in a ramshackle way, then completely devoid of anything but the most necessary of attention. In addition, no health and safety inspection seems to have taken place. This leaves the most wonderful, archaic relic.



First of all the ubiquitous dumped chairs and other building materials.

A Pile of rolls of hessian matting.

And the smallest entry into the annual rusting lawnmower competition.

The pitch was levelled in the 1950s and this can be clearly seen.

There are a myriad of buildings down the far side of the ground.

The abandoned dressing rooms.

The main stand, with plastic seats seemingly randomly placed.

Except for the directors area which has kept the original wooden tip up seating.

However, other spectators had chosen other seating areas.

The most raucous being behind the goal where a series of concrete benches, all in memory of someone or other, were occupied by the locals who seemed to sway between heckling their own team, and the referee.

On my last visit to the ground a couple of years ago, the game was called off due to rain. I still went for a wander around the pitch but almost crippled myself, going arse over tit on the mud on these steps.

Closer inspection shows them to be in exactly the same state, just drier.

Having safely negotiated them, it gave the opportunity to wade through the hard standing behind the goal

And to then storm the jungle into the side terrace.

This terrace is quite substantial, and if the game is dull, in the opposite direction are good views around to Studland Bay…

….due to the rear fence having fallen down.

Next to the terrace is a large, barn like structure, built right up to the perimeter fence, housing a sports hall.

Any hope of making it down this side are dashed by the myriad of shit that has been dumped in the walk way.

And so to half time, with the Swanage players choosing to head to their elevated dressing room…

…whilst Parley remained on the pitch.

On to the club house and instead of the halftimes, we got to watch dressage.

No programme was issued, instead we were directed to some boards in the club house that had player and officials details.

No seen this before, also not entirely sure what it is about.

However, this is one of my all-time favourite notices.

Half time tea, £1, unbranded mug. I manage to spill it over the electrical control cabinet of one of the floodlights.

One of the floodlights had been turned into a mobile phone mast, so this portable replacement was in situ.

Noticeable that whoever cut the grass, couldn’t be arsed to remove the corner flags and just cut round them.

One of lifes simple pleasures, Dai having to kick the ball back to the keeper. He lines it up…

…but somehow missed the keeper who was infront of him, instead it shot passed the back of the goal, heading for the far corner flag.

Parley were easily the better side in the first half, then scored early in the second. A short time later, Parley won a penalty, which they converted.



And shortly after that, another penalty was given, to the disdain of the keeper who picked the ball up and punted it at the attacker. I thought the keeper was sent off, but checking these photos, he seems to be on the pitch…

…to see the penalty converted.

Game finished 0-3 so we headed back to the bus stop, only to find the fancy dress cyclists had yet again tracked us down.

And so back on board the Coaster 50 again, heading for Bournemouth via Sandbanks.

Up to now it had been a lovely day, but guaranteed as soon as we got on the open top, it pissed it down.

This also meant everyone had packed up on the beach and were heading home, so when we got to the Sandbanks ferry, there was a massive queue.

The only thing that could have made it worse, would be lightening, which promptly arrived, shutting the ferry, causing gridlock.

The floor drains were also blocked, so all of a sudden it was paddling around the top deck.

With no sign of going anywhere fast, and children in cars going feral, the bus driver took control of our destiny.

Hammering it down the wrong lane…

...then pulling up at the front of the queue.

With the lightening passed, the landing area was cleared of maverick fisherman.

A couple of large boats were let through.

And the ferry was back in business.

An hour or so late, we were finally on our way…

...and into Sandbanks, where my camera died. We carried on to Bournemouth, for a SWT Desiro to Southampton, for the Pompey-Cardiff unit, conveniently diverted via Swindon.

Cheese for the way back was; Woolsery – Goat, Blue Vinney, Ford Farm Cheddar Truckle, Chalke Valley – Dorset White and Tilly Whim, and a double cream Pavé d'Affinois. All but the last being Dorset.