If you were in a mountainous region you might expect to see agile goats climbing the higher slopes, but goats on the cliffs in Bournemouth on our day we spent there were most definitely not on my list of things I had planned to see. Here they are happily munching away on the vegetation. I guess it makes a difference to the more traditional donkeys which I believe are no longer a thing down on the beach? Times change and for the better in this particular instance I think.
The one and only time I've ever been to Bournemouth was as a teenager with my then new boyfriend. I remember it being a drizzly cold day, but we stuck it out on the beach and then went for chips afterwards. It was those heady early days of a romance which floundered a few months later. The weather and temperature this time round was fairly similar, but staying on the outskirts meant that we could walk in and have a poke around on our first day away. I'm glad that I've had the opportunity to go back, but the way it's struggling saddened me. That said we enjoyed our few hours there and it made a good start to the holiday.
Even as a very much confirmed land lubber I do consider myself to be a bit of a closet hutter and the town has the most fabulous set of rainbow coloured beach huts. Very pleasingly they run across in various shades of one colour before moving onto the next block. I photographed them all, but for your sanity am restricting myself to just the one. Below are a few more details from around the seafront area. The tiles are part of an entire wall which is dedicated in memoriam to those who have died from Aids. The quirky coastal themed sculptures of a couple of a series that are on the fence which runs all the way down. Some of them had a bit of a Beryl Cook feel about them which made me smile.
If you are a fan of art and musems the Russell-Cotes gallery is worth a look. It has the most fantastically preserved rich and vibrant Victorian interior. Everywhere you look there are rich colours, layer upon layer of decorative detail, stained glass and stuff. If I'm being honest I could appreciate it, but it left me a bit cold. Just a question of personal taste. What did please me greatly though were the pieces of Pre-Raphelite art on display and this modern work decorating the dome in the cafe by Sophie Ward.
The one thing I did want to do was to go and seek out the grave of Mary Shelley. Helpfully you're given a bleeding great notice and an arrow so there's no missing it. With the connection to her husband's family coming from Horsham and Percy being born here, his spouse was a highly acclaimed writer in her own right. Her Gothic masterpiece, Frankenstein, was famously written after a night of ghost tales told during a storm in Geneva. Percy drowned in Italy in 1882. His remains washed ashore ten days later and he was cremated on the beach. However, his heart didn't burn [possibly due to calcification from the TB he had suffered]. It was saved and preserved in wine to be returned and then interred with Mary here upon her death.
We celebrated the literacy legacy of this famous couple by classily raising a glass in the Spoons across the road before plodding back. Well it had to be done didn't it and we were on foot after all🍻
꩜Aril꩜
