I shall have to resort to writing about holiday resorts.
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Poole in Dorset is my home town. We have Europe’s largest Natural Harbour (technically it’s the largest in the world now since Sydney added a manmade bit) and some fantastic coastline scenery. Brownsea Island, the largest in the harbour, is home to a red squirrel colony, and if you like big boats, you will find plenty of Sunseeker yachts worth over a million quid each berthed opposite the Quay.
It is a beautiful place to visit, you’re not far from Bournemouth, Weymouth, Swanage, or the New Forest, so there is plenty to see on your trip.
I can thoroughly recommend Monkey World and Compton Acres, and West Bay just outside of Bridport used to do the best pasties and chips in the county.
As for living there, it grew too expensive for our pocket, too fast and furious with traffic and ever growing supermarkets, and when it took over an hour to travel the two miles coming home from work, well, you get the picture.
Now we are living on the Lincolnshire Coast and there are a fair few holiday resorts here too. We are lucky not to be too close to the entertainment arcades, but we are just a few minutes walk from the beach, which is open to dogs all year on our side.
Thankfully, we don’t have Butlins on our doorstep.
Ah, commercialism. It takes good things and make them go askew.
Fact of life unfortunately
I moved to the country and was delighted as it took no time to get anywhere due to the lack of traffic but since I have been here there has been continual development. At the moment it is getting silly, how can it make sense to put a new development of 1200 houses next to an already existing village which is considerably smaller. If a builder bends over and shows the crack of his bum someone applies for planning permission for a two bed semi in his trousers!
One way of putting it!!
When we left in 2007 they were knocking down beautiful properties in places that were only five or six years old and putting up apartments on the plots each with a half mil price tag!
When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life so they say. I must definitely have one foot in the grave as I hate London now.
Us too, but luckily never lived there.