Bournemouth

So, we are in Bournemouth for the night. We came here by train from London Waterloo station, and arrived just-in-time for afternoon tea and a stroll along the front. The weather was a perfect English spring day: the Sun was out, no rain and just a slightly chilly breeze.

I stopped for an ice cream in the park. I always think parks bring out the best in people. Lovers talk, small children play, dogs chase balls, old folks take a snooze, footballs are kicked, skateboards dart in and out and seagulls and pigeons dogfight for breadcrumbs. English life blossoms like a daffodil at the first hint of sunshine. I’m enjoying an ice cream, as you do, but I’m feeling a bit Tippi Hedren as several sinister looking seagulls are staring at me in the hope of scraps.

I found a rather touching memorial on the cliff top walk to one of the RAF Red Arrows display team, killed during the Bournemouth Air Display a few years ago.

Tomorrow we have an early start or our ferry to Guernsey. Bournemouth has been an unexpectedly pleasant start to the. Tour.