Yesterday I found myself walking along the beach at Weston-super-Mare in Somerset. I'd only been here once before, an impulsive turn off the M5 some years ago, just to see what it was like. It was winter, raining, and I got back on the motorway very quickly. On that first visit I didn't notice that you can see Cardiff very clearly on the horizon, with the islands of Steep Holm and Flat Holm imbetween. Or the little miniature railway in Clarence Park or the streets that are like a tiny Victorian Bath nestling under the Iron Age fort on Worlebury Hill. Yesterday I saw it all, and ate a huge piece of cod washed down with a pint of Guinness in celebration on the seafront. Of course a fresh breeze and sunlit breakers far out to sea helped, as did the donkeys on the beach and the little Land Train tooting along the promenade. And then to cap it all I spotted a swirl of smoke over a hedge. Not the pier going up again, but Carters Steam Fair, here for the summer. Blog followers may remember them in Chiswick, and it was raining back then also. So I ran about here like a demented idiot, snapping away. Fairs don't get better than this, everything very traditional and superbly painted and not a hint of David Essex standing combing his hair on the back of a dodgem. But steam rides or not, Weston-super-Mare is certainly worth a detour off the motorway for. But don't just drive quickly down the seafront in the rain.
Coming from land-locked Gloucestershire, Weston was my nearest childhood seaside and, although looked down on ('not proper seaside', 'Weston Super Muck'), was a good place for a breath of fresh air, a go on a ride or two, and a piece of cod that past all understanding. Glad that it seems to be thriving against the odds.
Mike's bird puller of chice would have been the Aurelia B20 and would have required a less ding-dong aproach, something a little more Italian, I'm sure he was capable of a faultering accent - maybe a leeeft to your 'otel my deeer .....
'Guildford, Jags,...the A3'. A brilliant fugue for the fifties and sixties. It always fascinated me, the sports car garages strung out on the arterial roads west of London. Is the Chequered Flag still in Chiswick? And those bends on the A3 around Guildford, a quick glance at Edward Maufe's cathedral on the left and then whoosh! on to the Hog's Back.
I`m horribly afraid The Chequered Flag might now be a Porsche Dealership.Porsches,I`m sure are wonderful bits of kit,but they have always seemed a bit too clever and bland to me. Lovely evocation of yours Peter....Your bit about the Chiswick garage reminded me of the poem Grantchester......and will there be crumpet for tea ? (Get the morphine pad,Nurse He`s off again !!!).
Oh,and before I go,does anyone remember the thatched filling station on the left,as you go South just near the turn to Compton on the A3? All gone now of course.
I don't remember the thatched filling station, but it's worth a turn off to Compton to visit both the Watts Gallery and the curious Watts chapel which is a veritable feast of Art Nouveau terracotta.
I am a designer, writer and photographer who spends all his time looking at England, particularly buildings and the countryside. But I have a leaning towards the slightly odd and neglected, the unsung elements that make England such an interesting place to live in. I am the author and photographer of over 25 books, in particular Unmitigated England (Adelphi 2006), More from Unmitigated England (Adelphi 2007), Cross Country (Wiley 2011), The Cigarette Papers (Frances Lincoln 2012), Preposterous Erections (Frances Lincoln 2012) and English Allsorts (Adelphi 2015)
"Open this book with reverence. It is a hymn to England". Clive Aslet
Preposterous Erections
"Enchanting...delightful". The Bookseller "Cheekily named" We Love This Book
The Cigarette Papers
"Unexpectedly pleasing and engrossing...beautifully illustrated". The Bookseller
Cross Country
"Until the happy advent of Peter Ashley's Cross Country it has, ironically, been foreigners who have been best at celebrating Englishness". Christina Hardyment / The Independent
More from Unmitigated England
"Give this book to someone you know- if not everyone you know." Simon Heffer, Country Life. "When it comes to spotting the small but telling details of Englishness, Peter Ashley has no equal." Michael Prodger, Sunday Telegraph
Yesterday I found myself walking along the beach at Weston-super-Mare in Somerset. I'd only been here once before, an impulsive turn off the M5 some years ago, just to see what it was like. It was winter, raining, and I got back on the motorway very quickly. On that first visit I didn't notice that you can see Cardiff very clearly on the horizon, with the islands of Steep Holm and Flat Holm imbetween. Or the little miniature railway in Clarence Park or the streets that are like a tiny Victorian Bath nestling under the Iron Age fort on Worlebury Hill. Yesterday I saw it all, and ate a huge piece of cod washed down with a pint of Guinness in celebration on the seafront. Of course a fresh breeze and sunlit breakers far out to sea helped, as did the donkeys on the beach and the little Land Train tooting along the promenade. And then to cap it all I spotted a swirl of smoke over a hedge. Not the pier going up again, but Carters Steam Fair, here for the summer. Blog followers may remember them in Chiswick, and it was raining back then also. So I ran about here like a demented idiot, snapping away. Fairs don't get better than this, everything very traditional and superbly painted and not a hint of David Essex standing combing his hair on the back of a dodgem. But steam rides or not, Weston-super-Mare is certainly worth a detour off the motorway for. But don't just drive quickly down the seafront in the rain.
11 comments:
Drawn to the Jag eh ? - very leslie philips
Coming from land-locked Gloucestershire, Weston was my nearest childhood seaside and, although looked down on ('not proper seaside', 'Weston Super Muck'), was a good place for a breath of fresh air, a go on a ride or two, and a piece of cod that past all understanding. Glad that it seems to be thriving against the odds.
Both of your pictures are lovely.
Diplo:
Gin,Guildford,Jags (3.8 Mk 3 Coombs) Cravats,and the A3.
Truly a Stairway to Heaven.
(No disrespect intended to Mike Hawthorn though,cos he was by definition ,a Player .)
Ding Dong .
Mike's bird puller of chice would have been the Aurelia B20 and would have required a less ding-dong aproach, something a little more Italian, I'm sure he was capable of a faultering accent - maybe a leeeft to your 'otel my deeer .....
'Guildford, Jags,...the A3'. A brilliant fugue for the fifties and sixties. It always fascinated me, the sports car garages strung out on the arterial roads west of London. Is the Chequered Flag still in Chiswick? And those bends on the A3 around Guildford, a quick glance at Edward Maufe's cathedral on the left and then whoosh! on to the Hog's Back.
And sorry, thankyou very much Vinogirl for your comment. The sun certainly smiled into my camera that day.
I`m horribly afraid The Chequered Flag might now be a Porsche Dealership.Porsches,I`m sure are wonderful bits of kit,but they have always seemed a bit too clever and bland to me.
Lovely evocation of yours Peter....Your bit about the Chiswick garage reminded me of the poem Grantchester......and will there be crumpet for tea ?
(Get the morphine pad,Nurse He`s off again !!!).
Oh,and before I go,does anyone remember the thatched filling station on the left,as you go South just near the turn to Compton on the A3? All gone now of course.
I don't remember the thatched filling station, but it's worth a turn off to Compton to visit both the Watts Gallery and the curious Watts chapel which is a veritable feast of Art Nouveau terracotta.
Weston's also home to the Lambretta museum - well worth a visit. If you er, like Lambrettas.
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