For our next adventure, or ‘Two Go Mad in Dorset’ as I like to call it, we decided to stay local to our stunning rented cottage.

There’s something timeless about a morning by the sea, and Beer Beach delivered it in spades. We set out on foot from our cottage under a bright sky, the sun already warm on our backs and the promise of salt air just a few steps away. The walk down to the beach was quiet and lovely, the kind of start that makes you breathe a little deeper and move a little slower.

The beach itself stretched out before us, calm and full of character. Fishing boats rested in the sun and a few hardy swimmers were braving the chilly waves with far more enthusiasm than sense. Their laughter echoed off the cliffs while we stuck to firmer ground, shoes crunching softly over the pebbles.

We’d come with vague hopes of finding fossils, inspired by the coast’s history and the whispers of ancient creatures hidden in the cliffs. Despite our efforts – and a lot of crouching and hopeful squinting – we weren’t lucky this time. But fossil hunting, like most good things, is as much about the experience as the reward. The beachcombing was soothing, the breeze carried just the right amount of sea spray, and the world felt a little simpler down there.

After soaking in the scenery and letting the sea breeze clear our heads, we wandered back to the cottage for a well-earned lunch. The sun followed us home, and everything felt just right. It was a quiet kind of joy – the sort that doesn’t need a big story, only a memory of light on water and the sound of waves. Off to Charmouth next, where we were assured that we would definitely find fossils…