Showing posts with label Bournemouth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bournemouth. Show all posts
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Sojourn on the Stour
Back from my break, here are some photos taken where I was staying. My bedroom overlooked the River Stour, a wonderfully tranquil scene.
This tree acted as a modesty screen between my bedroom window and the opposite river bank. The leaves shimmied and twirled in the breeze in contrast to the massive solidity of the massive trunk, embellished by a network of ivy vines.
After breakfast, I took the air on the riverside terrace. There was a family of ducks swimming up and down, and gigantic fish lurking under the surface (just visible in the photo more or less low centre, if you click to enlarge). They were waiting for the leftover toast to be thrown over the fence by our waitress after the restaurant closed for breakfast.
There is an island in the river, reached by a rustic bridge from the terrace, where one could potentially take one's afternoon tea or something stronger whilst enjoying the sweet air and birdsong.
The ducks had a log available to leave the water for dry land when they chose.
Leaving the hotel was this wonderfully distressed wall, which naturally caught my eye and occasioned a photograph. I guess the suckers were probably left by Virginia Creeper, or maybe ivy.
The drive home this afternoon was through lovely countryside and picturesque villages, but as I was driving I could take no photographs: sadly few viewpoints are accompanied by convenient lay-bys or car parks and, anyway, I was keen to getback to my loved ones.
The workshop was, incidentally, wonderful. But, more of that on another occasion.
Labels:
Bournemouth,
Bridge House Hotel,
River Stour
Monday, March 26, 2007
A story to tell the grandchildren
At the weekend, Sarah went to Bournemouth to stay with her friend Hattie there. On Thursday evening they went into town to Elements, where S put her bad foot in her handbag (figuratively speaking) and enjoyed herself, dancing. Look who she found to partner her for a while. Yes, it is! He'd gone out for an evening on the town with some fellow officers and a few security men, to mix with the "locals". Unlike some more mercenary young ladies, Sarah did not sell her story to the Sunday Mirror, but then, she did not go back to the barracks afterwards.
Labels:
Bournemouth,
Elements.,
Prince William,
Sarah
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)

