Bournemouth, England

Some months ago, David's uncle Peter and aunt Jeanette invited us to their seaside flat in Bournemouth, England. We had the choice between two weekends, and wouldn't you know I'd end up picking the same weekend my brother landed a free trip to Paris and the weather was unseasonably cold and rainy in Bournemouth.

But we weren't really that disappointed in the weather; we had planned a weekend hanging out with David's family and one can do that in any conditions.

The weekend started out on a bad foot in Paris, however, when I made a visit to the dreaded prefecture.

A few weeks ago I realized that I had never picked up the residence permit (carte de sejour) I had applied for a few months earlier. I can travel within continental Europe without it, but travel to and from England requires a passport check. And a passport check usually means a residence card check.

So Friday morning David dropped me off at the prefecture and returned home to pack for the trip. My plan was to pop in, stand in line for no more than hour, and meet Grant in
Paris for brunch after his plane landed.

Well, after an hour of standing in line I realized that brunch was just not going to happen. I called Grant, arranged to meet him in the apartment for lunch, and continued to wait.

Long story short, after three hours of waiting I was finally near the front of the line and trembling with rage. The clock struck noon and one of the two workers behind the window closed his shade. Two men tried to cut in line, one succeeded. I exercised my French curse word vocabulary.

In the end, I had to call David to pick me up (I had planned on taking the train home) so we wouldn't miss the flight. I saw my brother during the brief drive home before Dave and I popped out of the car and rushed to catch the train. Not a relaxing way to start a long weekend.

Anyway, things could only get better from there, and they did. We took a quick flight across the English Channel on a small propeller plane and found Peter and Jeanette waiting for us at the gate.
They whisked us off to the flat, a spacious apartment on the 7th floor of a building overlooking the ocean. It was a bit cloudy, but the view was still excellent. We shared dinner and chatted before turning in early thanks to the time difference and a bit of wine.

The next day started off beautiful, if not a bit cool and windy. Certainly not beach weather, but there was plenty to do. We piled into Peter's car and headed to West Lulworth, a little town on the coast with a lovely cove. We walked through the town to the cove, then up a grassy hill for a beautiful vantage point.

From Lulworth we took another winding country drive to Tyneham. Tyneham is small village that was evacuated in 1943 for use by the British military during war preparations. Apparently they were supposed to give it back to the inhabitants, but went back on their promise and now the whole village is abandoned.

While we were in Tyneham the weather started getting sour (and now, thanks to Jeanette, I know how to identify clouds that mark barometric pressure changes), and we climbed back into the car to continue our drive.

Along the way back to the flat we stopped outside the ruins of Corfe Castle and took a few photos but didn't have time for a visit.
That evening we went to the city of Bournemouth for a great fish dinner at a restaurant right on the beach. However, by then the wind had picked up fiercely, and as we walked to the restaurant we were blasted with sand. It stung our ankles and gritted in our teeth, but the meal was definitely worth it.

Sunday morning we awoke to the sounds of wind and rain pelting the windows. We watched some crazy kiteboarders from the windows of the flat, then proceeded to face the weather ourselves. Armed with rain jackets and umbrellas, we jumped back into the car and drove back to Bournemouth and the Russell-Cotes art museum.

The Russell-Cotes art museum is housed in an old estate built right on the coast. We found the house to be just as impressive as the art, and spent a long time wandering from room to room, admiring the collection and the building itself.

Our visit to the museum could definitely have lasted a few more hours, but we had a plane to catch. Peter drove us back to the flat, where we shared a last lunch just as the weather was clearing. We packed everything into the car, and Peter and Jeanette bid us farewell at the airport, a comfortable two hours in advance.

So we had a great weekend with David's uncle and aunt. Who cares about lousy weather?