Giant wields big club in Sidmouth

I'd paid for two hours' parking in Sidmouth at a car park I don't ordinarily use, as it isn't the cheapest. But the place was full of people, and parking was at a premium. Astonishing for midweek in mid-March! Especially with the weather being so dull and rainy just now. As I write, it's the start of the second full day of my holiday. With twenty-six left to go, I'm certain of an improvement in the weather at some point, but today doesn't look hopeful. Hey ho. It's comfortable and snug in the caravan.

Back to Sidmouth. Returning to the car, I passed this old Austin A40 on the seafront:

This is a 1950s car from my youngest days, and for that reason alone it caught my attention. Not that Dad ever owned one. Back then there was no money for a car like this, which in its day was a perfectly respectable car to aspire to. There were plenty around, usually in a green-blue colour. I saw this nicely-restored grey example last year at a car rally in a Burgess Hill park, which gives a fair impression of what these A40s looked like in their prime:

Yesterday's pink version wasn't in such a good state, although I dare say still usable as a local runabout. The pink paint job, now fading, hinted at a possibly hippy female owner at some point in the past. And the very current green flash on the painted-on rear number 'plate' indicated a wish to be thought green-aware and generally eco. On the bonnet, a large and eye-catching amateur rendition of that famous Dorset figure, the Cerne Abbas Giant, complete with erect tadger and big grin. I'm thinking that the current owner, who must be happy to drive around in such a car, and with that particular giant emblazoned on the front of the car for all to see, must be quite a character. He or she must be winking at the rest of us. Certainly, this car makes Fiona, my ageing but still upmarket Volvo XC60, seem a little staid, and way too safe.

Although I do (or rather did, now that my TV plays only DVDs in another room) watch Bangers and Cash on the yesterday channel - which is all about finding, auctioning and restoring old cars and other vehicles - I am never likely to own a 'classic car'. I'd want a modern one, fit for modern conditions. That's what I'll get when it's time to retire Fiona. And not, say, a vintage Rover, Jaguar or Mercedes, however stylish. Or something like an Austin A40 - especially not one that has had a special paint job, as this has. I'm just not that wacky. 

I do wonder what was behind the choice of the Cerne Abbas Giant for a paint-on enhancement. In Dorset folklore, this giant is traditionally regarded as a fertility figure. You can go and see him. He is a very large chalk figure, cut into the hill above Cerne Abbas village. I last had a look in 2017. The best view, such as it is - you are so far away as to need binoculars - is from the official car park:

Zooming in you see this:

Leaving the car park, and walking closer, trees get in the way, although at one point you do get a much closer view, but incomplete and somewhat foreshortened:

You can climb the hill of course, but unless you want a lot of exercise to no great purpose I wouldn't bother. You do get a great view of the village and surrounding countryside, but can spy very little of the Giant, only tiny bits of him at a very oblique angle. I went up there in 2017, walked all the way around him, and could only get this as my best shot:

You are looking at the bottom end of the Giant's big club, with some of his chest beyond. The National Trust, who own the hillside, have long fenced him in, so you can't get close and personal. I have seen a telephoto shot showing a young lady sitting at the tip of his vast and rampant member. She may have been part of an archaeological team investigating the Giant in 1997. You can do no such thing now. 

Because he is naked and wields a club, the Giant is often identified as Hercules, the mythical superhero, and this is a reason to suppose this chalk figure on the hillside must have first been created in Roman times, and could now be at least 1,600 years old. Here's a classical version of Hercules, which I saw recently at the Royal Academy of Arts in London:

Yep. Nude over-muscled strongman, with signature lionskin cloak draped over a tree stump, and nonchalantly holding a knobbly club. Serious, powerful, very imposing, and very Roman.

But on the other hand, there is no written record mentioning the Giant before 1694, as this information board at Cerne Abbas takes pains to point out (click on the picture to get a larger view, and read the text):

Ancient or much more recent, the Giant is bound up with notions connected with sex, and I'm thinking that whoever painted him on the bonnet of that A40 at Sidmouth wanted the world to know that - like Hercules, or at least the Cerne Abbas Giant - he or she was up for it, and any takers? And subsequent owners must have been of the same mind, including the current one. And why not. 

I didn't hang around to observe who actually was the owner, as my two hours' parking were almost up, but I half-wish I had. Mind you, it could easily have been one of those those doddery old ladies you almost trip over in the streets of Sidmouth, still faithful to the car of her wilder days.