Sunday 4 June, 2017
Sod’s law. No sooner have I posted my woolly hat back to Wellington than Wellington arrives here in the form of a typically cold and breezy northerly to welcome us as we stepped off the train at Poole. That said, on the plus side, my MacPac zip-up black cardigan, which I was only carrying because I hadn’t found a clothes recycling bin between Leighton Buzzard and Poole, came in useful and has now been spared the indignity of a binning.
We spent most of the day at train stations waiting for delayed trains. We had woken this morning to news of the London terror attack, which, like the earlier Manchester attack, has shocked and saddened us. I know there were stations closed in London and whether that had a knock-on effect or not, I’m not sure. Not that it matters, in the context of the lives lost and shattered by these tragedies.
Being us, we inadvertently took the long way round to get to our accommodation quayside in Poole. A lovely room, one of two in a small guest house. It is up a couple of flights of stairs, has a good vibe, restful decor, comfortable bed, and everything we need, including wifi. Budget accommodation at its best.
Poole is lovely. As always, it is nice to be close to the sea again (to sort of paraphrase JM), that sharpness in the air you don’t get on the canals. Because we arrived late-ish, we didn’t have much time to explore but after dinner at a super Italian restaurant (first wine of the trip, a rosé of course, in prep for France), we went for a walk along the quay. The captain, if I may still refer to him as such, was full of bits of information about the various boats. I was madly snapping photos, despite the failing light.