It may be in the South-East, it may have staged Olympic sailing, and it may be home to approximately 4,527 caravan parks (including us last year) but I tell you, Weymouth is a bit rough.
There was blood on the steps of the station on our last visit, there’s more takeaways than in Great Harwood, and this bloke doing sand sculptures on the beach has made a real botch job of the Lion King if you ask me.
No, it may be the “Margate of the Purbecks”, but it’s going posh anytime soon. Unless compared to neighbouring Portland, of course.
The best bit is the view across the harbour to the old Devenish Brewery and the brightly coloured houses that make it look a bit like Copenhagen if you squint.
Loads of narrow little streets dotted with pubs off St Mary Street, all looking perfectly pubby if not quite as charming as you’ll get in Southsea or Plymouth.
But the Duke of Cornwall, a rare newbie, has real flowers and an afternoon jam session.
Lowd and lewd and lovely.
It’s rare to get a noisy pub with a fairly straightforward beer range in the Guide in 2019. Or perhaps Betty Stogs is craft ?
I thought it might be, so I had a half, which was a good idea as the only seat was next to the bassist. It was good enough.
I have no idea what they were playing, so let’s assume it was their version of Kangaroo Air Force Ventilator’s cover of Greenpeace. It’s possible.
Anyway, it was their last song, and I then had five minutes of locals staring at me on a table for three, and discussing their recent conversion to oysters. I had a single oyster at Ma Boyles in Liverpool once, never again.
Anyway, I let them have my seat.
Cue “Are you SURE….”