THE problems with Weymouth, highlighted by The Observer, are the problems of the UK itself: hubris - an arrogant unwillingness to accept that it is no longer the cat’s pyjamas.
I suspect most people assume that the term ‘Great’ Britain means that Britain is super, wunnerful, t’riffic. Alas ‘Greater’ Britain was merely coined to distinguish it from ‘Lesser’ Britain, the parts of northern France it colonised in the fifth and sixth centuries. The UK isn’t great; if it was a football team it would be hovering around mid-table obscurity.
Similarly Weymouth seems to think that George III still pops down for a skinny dip off the clock every summer, with all the kudos that would garner. The town eventually moved on from being the King’s favourite resort to being the Midlands car factory worker’s favourite resort, but now it is the favourite resort of anyone craving a boarded-up, non-descript Tatland.
It needs a Dr Who regeneration from someone with Superman’s vision. Resorts like Porthleven and Padstow spotted a niche and turned themselves into gastro-destinations. Weymouth is a ghastly destination. Like a gust of wind off the Nothe it cravenly blew an Olympic legacy - there are few, if any, decent hotels, art galleries, restaurants or quality entertainment venues.
Weymouth seems to think the world owes it something because of its God-given natural environment. It needs to wake up and smell the bananas. The modern tourist is much smarter than that.
Steve White
Almere
Netherlands
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