Not the best of nights with the air conditioning being switched on or off when either of us woke! Then at some ungodly hour, (well, a time well before we really wanted to be awake) a large DHL truck was parked right under our window, and they proceeded to unload metal beer kegs. Then the noise stopped for a while, only for them to then to load all the empties.
We checked out, overall, happy enough with our stay and headed through the city and out again. At least the Nottingham City Engineers, my employers for a year about 1965, have a traffic department that understands how to phase and synchronise traffic lights, as our run through was very smooth as we headed to the M1 south, via the recently widened A453, now dual carriageway all the way to the motorway.
As usual, we stopped for our sustenance at the Cherwill services, between the A43 and the M40. From then on, there were several areas of heavy traffic congestion, before we finally arrived in Bournemouth town centre.
With some trepidation, we approached the receptionist at the Royal Exeter Hotel, and when we mentioned the email hassles with Agoda, she rolled her eyes in sympathy, as they also had hassles with them. We still do not know whether or not we actually had a booking for the Thursday night, but Sarah coped well enough and allocated us a room on the first floor – room 104, just in case anyone is interested, and did us a reduced rate. It remains to be seen whether or not that is a double up.
Bear in mind this is another older building and although the carpet looked fairly new, they obviously missed an opportunity to resolve a squeaky floorboard issue. With every single step, in the corridors or in the room, there was a loud squeak. No air conditioning but an old fashioned sash window, with a view towards the Bournemouth pier.
However, in yet another case of my history being wiped out, we looked down on a cleared site, where the Punshon Memorial, Methodist Church used to stand. Opened in 1958, just a year after Dad’s sister and family moved to the area, Punshon effectively became our local church whenever we were in Bournemouth.
I was best man at my late cousin Anthony’s wedding there, attended his sister Alyson’s wedding, attended a service with a long-time friend from the first ever, Nottingham Senior Scout & Guide Group - and even saw mum join Auntie in the choir. Sadly, it closed a few years ago, sold for £4.5 and it will become another hotel. Ho Hum. Such is progress. With minimal parking for the church congregation, they probably suffered acute financial problems.
Having dumped our luggage, we headed off to see my other brother, Malc, who is still recovering from being bowled over whilst on a pedestrian crossing in Spain, just a couple of days before Christmas.
Like us, Malc is a happy enough supporter of the Wetherspoons franchise and as it was Thursday, yes, curry night, we were more than happy. Instead of our usual call at Winton, we headed for Ferndown, which was a bit less local pub-like.
We left him about 9pm and headed back to town, with the clock set early enough for Paula’s 10am dance lesson with Simon, in Winton, a place I know well, as the Piggin family moved to Winton not long after arriving in Bournemouth, so it became my second home.
The receptionist did tell us when we checked in, that Friday night, there would be live music going on until midnight and we realised that being on the first floor, overlooking an outside deck, we might well have issues, Friday night. We were just so relieved to have a bed for Thursday, that we couldn’t have cared less.
So, tomorrow, Paula has another day, well, morning, to look forward to.
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