Step back with me in time.
The year is 1810
Lewis Tregonwell’s eyes rolled over Bath Hill along the golden sand coast line and out to sea,
A picture of mere perfection,
The distant Black hills of the Purbecks shone on the white of Old Harry Rock,
Peveril point to Studland, Shell Bay,
That’s it,
Tregonwell thought to himself I’ll take the lot.
The Needles and white cliffs,
Then did catch his eye,
Across the glistening gulf,
The Oyster Blue Solent,
The evening was there,
As a heat wave set fire to the reds and orange,
In the most beautiful sunset sky.
He thought this summer his Lady should see,
Of course he was referring to Henrietta his dear wife,
When she came a love was formed,
They bought 8 and a half acres,
for £179, 11 shillings. Henrietta thought it paradise,
A Summer House was built and still stands today,
Now part of The Royal Exeter with cottages Her friends then visited to enjoy the summer and fritter their days away.
Time marched on 1910,
History unfolded and many travelers did come and stay,
None more famous than Sir Merton Russell-Cotes, a collector of world class splendour,
A man of grandeur, etiquette, he thought Bournemouth’s beauty most unique,
His worldly possessions are here on the East Cliff Russell-Cotes Museum,
He said on his death bed “to the people of Bournemouth you must display and keep”,
So now open to the public,
Number 1 tourist attraction,
Treasures from round the world in a house built,
As a love gift of affection to his wife,
Pre-Raphaelite hangs with Samurai to an Old lady selling matches come what may,
Dave Brooke the modern artist spirals nature in his most exquisite way,
Sir Merton captured my imagination and as a Freeeway poet this is what for his house I did say.
“An architectural fantasy From a mind-set of dreams,
Each of the rooms will steal,
Moments of your imagination away,
A glance or chapter, A verse of haze,
If Crystal is clear, Voyage the world,
In Merton’s house, be amazed.”
So to today Welcome to Bournemouth,
A land as rich as the sea,
Where the horizon scales and climbs the zigzag cliffs,
The Sun sprinkles gold on its seven mile coastline,
The Gardens are Chelsea pedigree,
This town is your British dream holiday certainty,
Bring the whole family,
kite surfers, body boarders, slack liners, water skiers, scuba divers, sea sailors, para gliders,
The Fishermen are welcome too,
Or traditional lazy days in the sun by the sea, Buckets and spades, windbreaks, Sand castles, your kids will know just what to do.
Dine al fresco, Drink champagne on a table set for two, Ride the promenade on a land train from pier to pier,
stay on through the Botanical Chine in Boscombe,
Or glide the cliffs in Edwardian lifts,
The John Walker Trail weaves Bournemouth the Story perfectly for you.
So raise a glass for Bournemouth,
Its Gentlemen and Ladies fair,
Bring forward the summer,
Let the thunder of the Red Arrows fill the air. And a toast to,
His Worshipful The Mayor
Steve Biddle © 2012
