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Monday, May 28, 2007

Wednesday was the day the ITV regional news announced that Weymouth is "a soulless summary of everything that's wrong with the British seaside experience". We tried not to let it get us down.

Lisa wasn't keen to visit Lulworth Cove on the grounds that "it's probably just a cove", so instead we set out on foot to Weymouth bay for a soulless seaside experience. In a bizarre coincidence, we passed a man en route who was wearing an identical shirt to mine. Which might have been ok had he not been in his seventies. Lisa insisted I have the dress sense of a pensioner, but I prefer to think that he had the outlook of a 33-year-old. Or maybe we just both shop at Oxfam.

Having failed to locate the Weymouth Whitewater boat yet again, Lisa phoned them on her mobile and was told they're not doing any more rides until the weekend. I was gutted. But I picked myself up with an All Day Breakfast Bap from Fran's Pantry, before leading Lisa on a tour of the seafront ice cream parlours. Purbeck's ginger ice cream turned out to be even better than Thornton's rhubarb, so with Lisa trying to calculate the number of WeightWatchers points in a waffle cone, we headed for the amusements where I deposited 24p in the two-penny falls, and got back £1.02. That's a 300% return on my investment. If I'd had more capital to work with, I could be a millionaire by now.

Let's just pause briefly for a photo of Lisa with a bouncing bomb.

Da Bomb
That's not something you see every day.

Right, well Thursday was our last full day in Weymouth, and with less than a week to go til our three-year anniversary (which is tomorrow, if you want to buy us a gift), Lisa treated me to lunch at Perry's, a restaurant described as "outstanding" by Bill Bryson in 'Notes From a Small Island' (I'd tell you which page, but I only have the audiobook). It's only two minutes walk from Seagull Cottage too, but strangely Bill fails to mention that.

The food was ok, although my chicken was swimming in oil, and when I asked for some water they brought me "a delightful spa" and charged me three quid. Thank god Lisa was paying. Overall it was a nice place, but they don't have a built-in bowling alley, so there is room for improvement. I can recommend the bread & butter pudding though. And the marmalade ice cream.

From Perry's we wandered back through the Brewers Quay shopping village, before heading for the Timewalk, which is just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right. Lisa wasn't that keen to attend (the words 'History of Weymouth' put her off), but I told her it was like Madame Tussauds crossed with Disneyland, and then offered to pay for her ticket, which was enough to get her through the door.

An hour of plague and beer later, and we headed down to Sweet Sensations, where I bought some ginger fudge, ate it, then took Lisa to the Excise House for cream teas and bowling. Before deciding I was still hungry and ordering pasta. And cinnamon pancakes.

Come 8pm we were still at Brewers Quay, languishing in a carbohydrate haze, when Lisa realised she'd been wearing odd shoes all evening. It's an easy mistake to make. Or it would be if they'd been at all similar. Unfortunately I don't have a photo of that, so here's a dashing young swanherd instead...

High on a hill was a lonely swanherd...
I'm hoping no one will notice that these photos have nothing to do with the blog post.


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