Oh I do like to be beside the seaside
Trip Start May 27, 2010
97Trip End Aug 31, 2011
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Good Friday came around quickly and we packed our bags to head to Weymouth. We were only on the road for about 20 minutes before we hit traffic, and my blood started to boil at a rapid rate. Yet again England's roads were rammed with cars, all wanting to get away for the long weekend. But even if it wasn't a long weekend the roads are packed. Phil tried to pacify me by telling me there was nothing we could do about it, and that I would just have to put up with it. But me being me, it wasn't that simple. I had to let out a "huff" of frustration every couple of minutes, just to let out the steam. Yet another 2.5 hour journey (according to Google maps) became closer to a four hour journey.
Eventually we ended up in Weymouth, a pretty seaside town, and we were relieved to get out of the car. After checking into the B&B we made our way down to the harbour area and went in search of food. Frustrated from the mission of a drive, we came to blows and decided that we needed a drink just to calm down. Finding somewhere to sit was a ball ache though, given that the sun was out in all its glory and locals and visitors alike were out in force, soaking up the rays. We kept wandering and eventually I saw a man sitting on a brick wall eating what looked like magnificent fish and chips. I stopped and asked him where he got them from, and lo and behold he was a local (of only 1.5 years) who directed us to the best fish and chips shop in town. I waited on the wall with the man while my man went and got us some lunch. We had a few pints by the water and ate our fish and chips, feeling immediately better after getting some grub (and cider) in our bellies. I had an interesting chat to the fish and chip man who was acting as security for his daughter who worked in the pub nearby. It turned out that his ex wife and her abusive alcoholic partner were in that pub. He was standing guard just in case his daughter was caught up in another scuffle. Having been armed with too much information, I knew straight away who his ex wife was when I went into the toilets to find a middle-aged hippie-looking woman crying in the doorway. I had to force the door open so that I could get past her, sobbing embarrassingly into the arms of her friend. When I returned to the brick wall outside the pub I asked the fish and chip man if my description fitted his ex, which indeed it did. In a strange way I felt like I'd become involved in this man's situation, so much so that when the drunk ex and her new partner walked out of the pub and past us, I had to look the other direction so as not to be implicated in anything sinister
We had to look pretty hard to find ciders that we hadn't already sampled around the country, but eventually settled on a tasting tray so we could have a swig of the ones we hadn't yet tried. From there we went around to another cider bar which Phil had previously researched and was keen on visiting. The locals suggested that this cider bar was mostly full of down-and-outs, desperate for a cheap and strong drink (sounds familiar!). We decided to go and see what it was all about anyway, but as soon as we walked into the brightly painted bar (it was bright orange on the outside, purple on the inside) we realised the suggestions of the locals were right. It wasn't somewhere I really wanted to be for long, and when the chavs walked in with their prams and cheap outfits, decided it was time to move on.
So we went to an alternative pub and spent some time there playing pool and choosing old school tunes from the jukebox. The tunes I chose were probably at the pop end of alternative, but nonetheless lightened the mood in the otherwise dingy pub
Phil and I were pissed by this stage anyway, and McDonalds was calling. We got our meals and I thanked the dude behind the counter for what I believed to be the best service I'd ever had at a McDonalds before, and then went back to the B&B to fill up on the sugary goodness of McChicken burgers.
In the morning we rushed down to breakfast, but I was feeling a bit shabby and couldn't stomach much. Sure the girl can drink, but she can't handle the hangover. This has been proved time and time again. Phil drove us over to Portland where they would be hosting the sailing for the olympics later in the year. We drove up to see Portland Bill - a lighthouse which did nothing to really inspire me to break free of my hangover and get out of the car to have a look. A pie in Easton sorted me out, and we headed back to Weymouth to have a better look around the town. It's a pretty little town, with it's old cobbled streets and some cute little laneways, some of which are ruined by one pound shops and stores selling beach paraphenalia.
We had some lunch back over at the harbour area - my favourite area of Weymouth - and went back to the B&B for a bit of a rest. Later we had dinner at a very busy Chinese restaurant, and laughed at the stressed little staff members running up and down the floor delivering orders
On Sunday we made our way to Bournemouth. Being Easter Sunday, there wasn't much open, and we weren't all that impressed with what the town centre had to offer. The beach was typical of English seaside cities, with its gaming arcades and merry-go-rounds. We weren't in the mood for it, and I didn't have the appopriate footwear for doing much more walking, so we grabbed some lunch and then got a cab over to Westbourne where there were a few pubs. Phil sampled some ales before we wandered around to another pub to watch the football (via an off licence to try our luck on the scratchies - we are such bogans!). I bet Phil at pool a couple more times and then we got a cab to yet another pub. More pool, darts and some more pints later, we went to Smokin Aces, a new cocktail bar that had some of the most amazing cocktails we'd tasted in a long while. Baulking at the bill, I had to remind Phil that the barman had tailor made the cocktails for us, and had made exactly what he'd described. They were worth every penny of the £8 each. Yum!
On the way home we asked the bouncers where a good kebabo was, and he pointed to one across the road and said "well, there's one over there", his intonation on the word "one" suggesting that it wasn't very good
Monday saw us getting back onto the packed motorways and making our way back to Birmingham (via another McDonalds!). We drove through the New Forest but sadly didn't spot any roaming ponies. We were home by about 4pm and I was feeling worse for wear the entire car ride, willing it to be over with every corner we turned.
It was a nice weekend, and great to see some other parts of the country. A few more boxes ticked.