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Published: June 14th 2021
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Bournemouth Blues -Piprey on wheels
Heatwave in England has become an annual event and the ideal time to hit the beaches. I booked advance tickets (Price 50 GBP for a return via Reading while in 2005 it was 18 GBP via London).
At Hayes and Harlington station, I carried the cycle over all the stairs when an old English woman remarked that she hoped to see the lift in next 10 years. I had a laugh and nodded with hope 😊
Arriving at interchange, Reading, I boarded the train. In the cycle compartment, I lifted the front wheel into the hook up in the air and kept it suspended. Next year, I shall definitely qualify for Olympic weight lifting championship.
The cross country train travelled via Southampton to Bournemouth. It was old train compared to Great Western service which ran from London to Bristol. I finished my packet of chips and small iced cakes. Dozed off. As soon as they announced Bournemouth, I was on my toes to unhook my cycle off the handle and land it safely. I complemented s couple of
green/hazel eyed brother and sister getting down in their buggies from the train.
Indeed, I found that the beach was full of these dolls of England.
Out in the open, I gave the cycle a spin and went up and down like a roller coaster. The Bournemouth beach has high cliffs dropping down into the beach. The
Boscombe Chine garden had nicely lined up flower garden, a children's play area, a pond and a mini golf. It used to be heavily forested and a smugglers' den.
There were tall, old, dark green leaved trees unlike the short, crippled ones in London.
As I walked by the coast and looked up at the trees, I could definitely imagine the Dinosaurs living here on the Jurassic coast of Dorset.
Like a curious mouse, I cycled down the coast away from pier to find the quiet spots.
I changed in the toilet and excitedly went to take a dip in the water. I was shocked to feel the cold water. No wonder only a few children were splashing in the waves and the
adults were wisely sun bathing. I spread my Indonesian blue, baatik lungi from Bali as a mat on the golden sand and lay down to face the Sun.
It was lovely to feel the Sun on my body and absorb the sunshine vitamin for eternity. It was only late in the evening, when I took a selfie that I realised that
my face had turned red like a monkey. Peeping through my dupatta over my head, I noticed a few children frolicking around in the sand and an adult or two in the water. It was high time to be brave the waters.
Soon I was
playing in the water, bobbing with the waves. An eight year old girl was swimming alone and she befriended me. She told me about her family shifting house, her swimming lessons etc.
Indeed, the sea water was really salty. So far, the mildest sea water has been Mediterranean sea. The Dead sea I dare not taste for life.
With all the sticky sand and the wind blowing against my wet skin, I decided to get changed. I cycled up and down the coast to discover ice cream shops at regular stops with the same price (2.20 GBP for a softie) and long queues.
Children were flying kites, playing with sand or simply messing about it, squealing with the breaking of waves etc. There were beach huts where families rested on the easy chairs and took Vitamin D (thoughtfully applying sunscreen lotion). Some brought out picnics with champagne and cutlery in style. Wow!
A great reason to travel to Bournemouth in June was we were allowed to cycle. In July and August, it is strictly pedestrian.
I went up the pier and was able to
appreciate the 7 miles of sandy coastline of Bournemouth. It is a blue badge beach which means there is no industrial waste flowing into these waters. There was a special section which were dog friendly. Did not notice any littering. (Did you notice any in the photos?)
I dragged myself uphill to the town centre.
I found all the men pushing the buggies with picnic stuff and children. Women were coming up from behind.
At the beach, I noticed a father taking an inflated boat into the water. A wave hit his son of 5-6 years and he was frightened. His mother had to run down and coax him into the boat. Finally, they took him into the land to calm him down. In the train, a father was managing two cranky little boys. Do I hear anyone saying that fathers have no place in family these days?
The town centre had a desolate, run down look and smelt of weed typical of all coast towns which depended on tourism for survival . I grabbed an egg water cress sandwich and can of chilled coke from Aldi. While, munching my lunch in the town square, I observed how a young, pretty girl of 12-13 years with golden curly hair, leading a group of boys and girls into McDonalds.
I asked for direction to a main railway station and got directions to a minor railway station. Again, cycled back to reach the Bournemouth Central station. I had an hour or so to do a royal time pass. Decided to sit by
the subway under a tree and write shayar in my group as follows:
Ye Khuda, tabadela kar de dil ka Ruksat e ishq, aur intezar nahi hota
(Oh God, transfer my heart, I cannot wait any move for the opportunity to love)
The cute siblings boarded the same compartment of the train. I hung my cycle. I saw the
majestic luxury cruiser, Queen Mary 2 at Southampton. It stopped at Winchester, Basingstoke and Reading. Reading to Hayes and Harlington was a never ending journey of 42 mins on a slow train. In my cycle, last mile was covered in 5 mins.
Home was getting my clothes washed the night itself before my housemate blocked the washing machine, applying boroline antiseptic cream and cooling multani mitti (Fuller's Earth) to my red face. The following morning, my calves and arms were aching. Maybe the swimming after 10 years!
Perhaps a wonderful trip by light blue English channel is the perfect recipe to get back the colour of our face (if done correctly).
Bournemouth blues- bye till next summer.
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