Londoners seeking sun, sea and sand without boarding a plane have long had two obvious choices. Less than two hours by train is Bournemouth, with its sandy beaches stretching miles to both the east and the west. Alternatively, stay on the train till it’s reaches the end of the line at Weymouth with its own picturesque bay.
These days, some Londoners will drive instead of take the train, and so can stop off at the numerous coves, bays, inlets and beaches betwixt the two. Mrs P and I have been exploring them ourselves over the last few months. But today I find myself in Weymouth.
Whereas Bournemouth boasts numerous three, four and five star hotels, including the likes of Hilton and Marriot, the seafront B&B is still king in Weymouth. Peeling paint, weather beaten signs, 70s decor, donkey rides, Punch and Judy shows are all to be found here. It’s the British seaside resort that time forgot, and it still has enough charm to bring in a sufficient number of holiday makers.
Once upon a time, there was a busy port here, with ferries coming and going. Did you watch Dunkirk, a couple of years ago? That was filmed in Weymouth harbour. Fitting, as many boats from here took part in the evacuation.
The port has long been closed. But the bay has been home to numerous cruise ships since lockdown. I’ve posted photos of those loitering in Poole harbour, but Weymouth has seen far more liner traffic. There were seven of them this morning when I arrived in town. Not an unusual number, I’m told.
The Mexile 