This time last week the ladyfriend and I were mincing around the harbour at Weymouth. We had dropped everything off at our woodland digs and went exploring. I was as happy as a sandboy, darting through the nooks and crannies and mysterious alleyways. One could almost feel the presence of the pressgangers as we trapsed along the cobbled pathways.
Weymouth seems to have more than its fair share of elderly visitors. Eastbourne is like an 18-30 holiday resort in comparison. I was very surprised. They are eagle eyed though. They kept catching me taking pictures. Not like the Sussex gummers, I snap away down there and they are none the wiser, the ones in Weymouth glared at me as I released the shutter. Old buggers.
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