5 Things To Do When the Rain Hits Bournemouth

Bournemouth.

Miles and miles of glorious, legendary beaches.
Imagine yourself walking barefoot, playfully feeling the silky sand envelop your toes. Feel the cool sea water lapping over your body, and then  splash around the Dorset coast with glee.

You start inflating your dinghy, it feels like a great chance to float off down to Poole and play Sailor.

Suddenly, the sky opens with an unapologetic roar!
There’s rain. Cold. Wind.
Everyone is running off the beach to fearfully huddle under a shop doorway. Knowing our country, this could be November weather… or June.

Raindrop Beach Rain Water

What is their to do in a town, famed for it’s sunny beach, when the weather gets a little wet and wild? Here are top 5 alternative things to do in Bournemouth when it’s raining.

The Oceanarium

This aquarium is a home to all kinds of marvellous sea creatures, without having to bring yous scuba gear to see them. Behold a variety of marine life including tropical fish, stingrays, crocodiles, iguanas, starfish and even some bearded dragons. Down in the depths of the Oceanarium is an underwater glass walkway, which gives the opportunity to look at some of the Ocean’s finest creatures. Look up with awe whilst inside tunnel, as you may see a shark swim right over you!

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The Oceanarium was recently upgraded with the creation of the Penguin Beach Encounter, so why not waddle your happy feet over to meet them. This custom built environment was designed to replicate the Penguin’s natural surroundings, with plenty of space for them to nest and play.  The Oceanarium also provides feeding experiences for a variety of mammals,  enabling visitors  to prepare some tasty special snakes to feed these penguins, as well as otters and turtles.

A cafe serving up refreshments, including hot and cold snacks, is the perfect epilogue to a fantastic voyage of all things under the sear. There is also a gift shop where you can buy furry versions of your favourite aquatic friends!

http://www.oceanarium.co.uk/

Rock Reef

Have you got what it takes to get to the top?

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The Rock Reef consists of 4 exciting areas, the Clip ‘N’ Climb, the Pier Zip Line, The Pier Cave and the Highline. It’s the perfect opportunity to show off to your date your amazing climbing abilities. The Clip ‘N’ Climb is an Adrenalin pumping experience, involving 28 climbing walls, each with their own level of difficulty.  The Highline features Swing Logs, Free Beamer, the Cross Logs, Hi-Low Steps, Cargo Net, Tunnel and the Slope Walk. It tests your agility, flexibility and climbing prowess, with different activities to engage with for an exhilarating vertical experience.

A sheer vertical slide allows people to choose how high they want to slide down from. There is also the Leap of Faith. For the brave, a jumping challenge to a hanging beam awaits.

http://www.rockreef.co.uk/
Splashdown

Feeling wacky, wild and wonderful? Make a splash at The Splashdown Water Park, which is something for all the family to enjoy, from little ones to big kids. This leisure complex boasts 13 thrilling flumes. From the relaxing inner tube ride of the Mississippi Drifter, to the exhilarating thrill jaunt that is The Screamer, there is an experience for all fun seekers. Other rides include the Zambezi Drop, the Tennessee Twister and Nefarious Dragon’s Lair. For the more cultured, there is the Infinity ride, where sliders spiral inside a bowl to music of their own choosing.

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For the more relaxed individual, there is the bubble bench and jacuzzi, where you can unwind in a warm, inviting environment.

https://www.splashdownwaterparks.co.uk/poole/
Laser Quest

Billed as ‘Serious Fun with a Laser gun‘ this immersive experience certainly lives up to the hype.

The concept is to zap the other players with your futuristic laser super gun, accumulating points with the goal to amass the best score. Don’t dance with delight though, it might be the chance for revenge from someone you zapped earlier.

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Before entry, you are given a full safety briefing. You are equipped with a body pack and a state-of-the-art laser gun. Once you enter the arena, the music starts and the adrenaline kicks in. Set in a labyrinth style are with turrets, lighting effects and swirling fog, the stage is set for a legendary laser battle.

There are several game types including Solo, All Against All, and team battles.

http://www.laserquestbournemouth.co.uk/

The Russell Coates Gallery and Museum

Step back into a century’s worth of history.

A wealth of art and sculpture adorns this museum and gallery, whilst the knowledgeable staff provide expertise and knowledge of its classical heritage. With a beautiful, contemporary Victorian design, it is quite simply an architectural triumph that has stood the test of time. The buildings were an illustrious gift from Mr Russell – Coates to his wife (husbands, take note!) and is one of the last Victorian houses to be built in England. The couple collected fantastic artworks during their marriage, as well as artifacts and souvenirs from their adventures in America, India and Egypt, of which have come to reside at the museum.

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Collections have included sculptures, a wealth of British art, pottery, glass plates and the Venus Verticordia.

The museum holds events throughout the year, including tours, exhibitions and fayres. Such occasions give you a rich insight of the past as well as provide an educational and entertaining environment for all ages.

http://russellcotes.com/


Where else do you recommend when it’s all a bit watery? Comment below:


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From Bournemouth With Love (Part 1)

Is love real?

A  poll said 74% of people think love exists,

16% gave a weak, Nick Clegg kind of answer of ‘it depends on the person.’

10% say it is just a lustful infatuation usually caused by someone pretending to understand your problems.

Dairy-free Singles, Thematchmaker.com and Uniformed Dating unsurprisingly say it’s 100%. Sign up to find the one you love, who shares your lactose intolerance needs.

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Any excuse to get this sexy fella on here

 

It would be a huge blow to the music industry if love isn’t real.

Westlife* may start having to sing about aquatics and tapestry

*I am aware Westlife stopped producing music years ago, but I am stuck in a late ’90s timewarp due to my lack of affiliation with scary new things such as lit, peng, dank, nightclub squadding, poo emoji’s and Adult Beiber

The following is my first dabble on the whole love thing. My previous attempts hadn’t worked out.

Rewind. It was 2011, Osama Bin Laden had been shot in the face, and David Guetta and his bezza, Flo Rida, were asking “Where them girls at?” (hope he managed to find them)

This was also the years of the riots, where  uppity people were grouping up and destroying things, but there were confused as to why. There were little riots in my area, although I heard a bin was knocked over in a petty rage.

I was actually worried the 2012 Olympics were to be stripped away from us due to the carnage caused. I was worried one of the Olympic torches might have been kidnapped and used as a Molotov Cocktail by a disgruntled rioter, but luckily England had settled down by then and gone back to safe things, like drinking Tea and moaning.

That year I was working as a catering assistant at Bournemouth Beach. Here you see me, proudly standing in my hot uniform amongst a display of coloured Lions, which had appeared across the town for the summer.

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The much loathed Imax Building still blocked the coastline, but due to a 50:50 sun/rain ratio, there was still interest in the beach. I would work hidden away in a blue box (no, not the Tardis), and would watch as everyone partied in the sunshine. I constructed our variant of 99 flakes, of which included such hideous ingredients as 0% Dairy, Vegetable Oil, emulsifier, sweetener, and more Vegetable Oil.

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My little world

One time I offered a man to top up his ice-cream whippy with a flake for 30p.
He kindly responded by saying I should stick said flake where the sun doesn’t shine.
Another customer had no money, but desperately wanted a Twister lolly. He offered to exchange an 1/8th of weed for one. I decided not to go through with it. I could imagine the local newspaper now with illustrious damning headlines.

“Mr Whippy’s Drugs Bust.”

“Cornetto Cannabis Crackdown”

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But anyway- back to the love you clicked here for.

One Summer’s day, a charming group of ladies approached me for ice-creams. One particularly blonde one, who slightly resembled Tanya from Britain’s most miserable soap, EastEnders, wanted an Orange Ribena Lolly.

We got talking and I joined them on the beach during my break. It was quite tough talking to 5 girls from up North that I’d never met, especially when conversation turned into contraceptions and coils. However, I appeared to go down well, and they found me again the next day at the ice-cream booth.  Ribena I found myself drawn to due to her spirit and smile. She looked past my stubble and uninspired blue uniform, which possibly marked with ice refreshment ooze. As we were sat in a group, it was hard to talk to her alone. I really wanted to know why every lame pun I came out with she giggled at.

I hadn’t had much luck with women for a while; my last girlfriend had run away to Lapland to be an elf and never came home.

I’m not even joking.

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“Look elves, there’s my goofy ex-bf back in England!

 

I digress. The girls were due to go back up North, and my shift finished at 3, and they were leaving around about the same time. I pleaded with my supervisor, Jules, who was busy breaking off icy residue off some  Toffee Vanilla crunch, if I could go early.

I said there was a girl I liked, he let me go. The idea of romance cooled his heart.

I threw my apron off, almost forgetting there was a group of hungry Austrians waiting for a collection of hazelnut Magnums. I raced down the beach, bypassing several obese interpretations of the great British body. I almost pushed kids out the way, tripped over a few deckchairs and crushed a few sandcastles.

To be honest it wasn’t this dramatic. It was more of a hurried pace whilst walking with a sense of haste. I managed to find where them girls at.

Pretending I was merely walking there with little bother, I began to slow down and caught my breath when I saw them. I eventually managed to get talking to Ribena, and we had a walk across the sand. We shared a cute moment where I put ice-cream in her face, covering her in whippy. Our liaison should have ended there really. Luckily she had a soft spot for casual immaturity and vegetable oil.

The sun was shining, the weather was warm. It was nice to enjoy England’s annual one day of summer. We had a kiss on the shore, the icy coastal water cheekily lapping at her feet.

Her friends pulled funny faces at us, probably exclaiming a mixture of worry and excitement their mate was kissing a Cornetto salesperson.

As they left to go back up North, we exchanged details and more kisses. She seemed incredibly lovely, but I figured I was a bit of holiday romance.

A month passed, and in that time Ribena spoke about me coming up to visit as her parents were away. It would also consequently give me a break from another full-time week of ice popsicles.

I got the train to meet her at the nearest train station. It was only until I got there, that I felt a tremble down my spine, I had travelled a few hours away, I barely knew her… what if she was evil? Or tried to kidnap me… or worse, sell my organs for profit?

But my brain calmed down.

She was way too lovely for any of that. Though, talking of vital organs, she may later take my heart and –

WAITspoiler-alert

Getting a little ahead of ourselves. Can we go back to talking about ice cream? No 😦

We had a really great few days. I felt a connection with her that I hadn’t felt before, she genuinely seemed to like me for me, as opposed to the accessory/tall escort/male company/broad-and-a-little-boney shoulder to cry on stigma that I feel.

Shame she lived about 150 odd miles away.

Bit of a stretch. I could just about handle that. Her smile was worth it.

She then decided to go to University 200 miles away.

After talking again, with us both confused on what this was and where we stood with each other, I got the feeling there was something more between us than an extended holiday romance. She asked me again to come up and visit her at her University residence – a student village – in Swansea

I met her at the station a month later, and it was like time stopped for a while. I’d not be so excited to see someone before. She made a lot of effort to look pristine and glowy, and it was good to feel wanted.

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Typical Student Decor

I was terrified of going to her student halls. Drinking Games. Freshers debauchery. Smart Price Taglitelli. Chunder charts!

However, I had nothing to worry about. Apart from the a haunting peculiar smell in the stairwell, and fire doors that closed super-loudly, I mixed into the student experience well. Hell, my initiation into Ring of Fire ended up with me taking on the entire glass of shitmix as I think I got the last queen in the pack. Ribena later on had to drink a load of it, and I took one for the team for her on her behalf. There’s nothing like realizing you like someone when deciding to down their benevolent mixture of  Imperial vodka, Red-flavoured Fanta Twist and Apple Sourz.

Luckily I didn’t earn a place on the chunder chart and my liver remained functional.

Our adventures included restaurants, shopping, cinema. She introduced me to Chiquitos and Danepak bacon, what’s not to like? She’d casually missed lectures just to lie next to me and we’d eventually stumble outside in the afternoon sun. We walked hand in hand with almost matching sunglasses. We even cooked together.*

(*well at the stage in my culinary pursuits I was more of a washer and dryer/sous chef)

We had conversations about food, travelling, emotional things, television.. it was so easy to talk to her. There were even tepid discussions about baby names.
(I’m stealing your suggestion of Atlanta, sorry not sorry.)

One time I almost wept into tears after seeing a video of my late grandmother that I’d not seen before, and she held me whilst I recuperated into a more manly composure.

*MUSH ALERT.*wierd-couple-bench

Cynics leave. I’m aware people will destroy me with mockery at the following effeminate confessions. But a charming 1% of people will find the following quite heartfelt, even if they are slightly snorting with the giggles whilst drinking blog friendly pop.

We’re heading back to the original question. (LOVEEE)

I felt so happy with her. A complete cynic of anything remotely romantic, I found myself doing cringey things such as using pet names (it was babe in this case), sentimental cards pack full of sweetness and even once giving her chocolate hearts, slightly mushed after hiding them in my pocket. I never thought I was this type of person, but when you meet someone special, it just happens.

One night after a mixture of shopping, eating, and various coupley moments,  we placed a candle on the table, it’s flame bouncing slightly in the small amount of Welsh wind that streamed through the window. The trees in the cool breeze of the campus outside were gently dancing. The hollering of distant games of ring of fire, beer pong and never have I ever were practically silent on the cool October eve.

I faced her on the bed and held her hands. I felt a little fuzzy. I tried to maintain some cool composure and said:

“I feel something.. I don’t know what it is, like I’ve not felt before.’

I felt slightly disconcerted of what she was going to respond with.

She looked at me, her eyes longingly looking at mine. She shyly replied:

“Rupert…I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Her words melted me, and I could see the conviction behind them.

At that moment, everything stopped except us.

And we kissed, and suddenly everything was amazing.

 

(1) For people who have grown up in a Disney-esque upbringing, and are probably wearing a Cinderella ball gown whilst reading this on the iPhone or Tablet, then –

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(2) For jaded people who realise the harsh realities of long distance relationships etc, there will be a part 2.

 

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The Student Experience

Welcome to 11 Northcote Road.

A -5* experience like no other. Not just a home to students, but inhabited by ants, rats, the neighbour’s cat and various strands of DNA on the sofa.

The house’s cleaning rota was treated like an unloved child. Never  read, it had been depressingly folded into an origami swan, the rules hidden deep inside it’s paper neck.

The fridge had such a stench, even the butter had developed sentience. As Jurassic Park once said ‘Life Finds A Way.

Talking of life, a leftover Domino’s was aging gracefully in a delivery box. Upon it’s removal, said pizza box was replaced by another to maintain the crusting status quo.

 

The stairwell was full of abandoned objects. An exciting adventure to A+ E was provided if you slipped on a series of escaped cardboard toilet rolls or a precariously-placed spiked high heel.

There was also a washing room. However, it looked someone had stuck a stick of dynamite inside a launderette. This was decorated with fossilized hoodies which had started to bio-degrade due to being left in the washing machine the year prior.

The garden fence had come down in a storm, and never went up again. It meant we had great, un-barricaded conversations with our next door neighbours.

I moved out from home and to be fair, I had barely been house trained as well.
Desperate to move out out of the parental nest, and far away from the  place where people come to die, aka New Milton, I looked on the world wide web for a place. I found a place on the Internet’s version of Russian Roulette, Gumtree.

One student living there was moving to Australia, so their room was up for grabs. I had a look around, all seemed nice.

I thought living with students would be quite funny. I imagined my new daily life would involve repeats of Friends whilst eating Smart Price tagliatelle with budget ham. This would be followed by partying into the night, then going to work in the morning.  The students would eventually emerge and stumble into mid-afternoon Film Studies lectures.

I contacted the letting agent about the room, but they had no idea the room was going as the student hadn’t actually told them yet. I should have seen that as a red flag. The student in question had trouble understanding adulthood,  so her Dad communicated with me via email.

Sadly, my references to get into this place nosedived. My manager at work had somehow completely alienated the referencing company over the phone. All I needed from her was to say how much I earnt and that I indeed was working. Yet somehow they had pissed her off and now she refused to talk to them.

I had Email Dad and the Letting Company then demanding to know what the hold up was, and I felt powerless-  they were both  saying they would start advertising it to other people, and I had two days until the contract was said to begin.

So cue me rummaging through endless folders, with so much paperwork flying everywhere it looked like I’d be attacked by the contents of the Chilcott Report. During my lunch hour, I digged deep to find job contracts and payslips which I scanned in using a dusty, lonely scanner at the library. A place where they still stamped books.

I lost my rage when (a) Hotmail was being an absolute anusfly and (b) the reference company only received empty emails from me. As the move-in deadline approached, I slowly began to spiral into a vat of stress.

Luckily, the Letting Agent announced all was good the next morning and I was ready to move in. I let out a sigh of relief and danced in the snow. Yep, this country used to have snow. Though I didn’t really dance.

I settled in that night to my new abode, unpacked some boxes and lit a victory cigar. The first few weeks seemed quite blissful. Until things began to unwind.
First up, there was a pile of washing up, competing with several famous landmarks in height. Left for three weeks,  a housemate contested cleaning it up as it was apparently someone else’s. Despite the fact the person she was blaming was gallivanting around Germany’s Autobahn at the time.

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‘Kitchen’- by student

 

I was also introduced to a knackered bed adorning the garden as well as a battered sofa that was home to a sociable army of ants. Such was the problem with cleanliness, a new colony, possibly rival ants, began to invade via the front door. It led to us investing in anti-ant spray to deter them from entering.

I’m surprised my then girlfriend, whose now a lesbian, didn’t end things right there and then  when she visited. Luckily my hide everything in a cupboard approach –  both literally and figuratively – postponed our eventual breakup by several months. Luckily, I didn’t show her my garden.
Beyond a weather-damaged beer pong table, there was also a box outside that had cigarette butts in and other mysterious dregs.
Over time this was filled with rain water. After months of this fermentation, it created a oily mixture which could be classed as a potential WMD, and should have been bombed promptly by power-mad politicians.

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Disposing of this took several Co-Operative bin liner bags, a facemask and a bucket load of stamina to drag from the garden to the roadside bins. I felt like I was possibly endangering the eco-system for future generations whilst disposing of this waste.

Talking of possible future generations… The poor living room sofa had apparently been the subject of multiple romps of various spontaneous couples. I could possibly become pregnant by sitting on it for to long.
Without any Netflix, just the chill.
One time I came downstairs to see a housemate being mounted by a guy on the innocent sofa. I don’t believe she was fertilised in  this instance.

Most of the housemates were really nice to live with. One attempted cooking baked beans in the microwave, but when said device made a peculiar noise, he threw them out, deeming the beans to be radioactive. He promptly burnt another cans’ worth of beans, due to leaving them too long in the pan, then gave up and ordered a takeaway.

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How I imagine rodents in the skirting board to look

He heard the sound of nefarious rats partying in the skirting board of his downstairs room, so promptly moved to an upstairs bedroom to get away from them. Sadly, the door of his new room came off its hinges. It was rumoured that this was because of the commotion caused by one of the female housemates stepping on a pin. Piercing the air with a time delayed screaming fit, of which woke him up the night before his exams, he slammed the door in frustration.

This noisy female housemate was often loud, annoying and was so grating in every conceivable way. She would come home from work and refuse to speak to me, then not do the washing up as she had to face customers all day. Her method of attack was throwing pens at you or simply existing. Her bedroom looked like a warhead detonated in it.

Another housemate, her best friend, who had the charisma of a postage stamp, disappeared 2 months before the end of her contract after failing the first year a second time. We managed to unlock her room, then discovered she kindly left a plate of sandwiches on her bedroom floor,which had begun to evolve into a new lifeform.
To be honest I was surprised she could even make  a sandwich. Her signature dish was cheese on toast.
Yet how could I be harsh to someone so quotable, who once said:
“I’ve stopped smoking and then my asthma cleared up, and I stopped coughing. So now I can breathe better I’ve started smoking again.”

She failed to pay the last 2 months of rent of £650. Months after we left and still unpaid, her friends were still justifying it by saying she was going through a tough time. However when the renting company started sending us threatening emails with words like court orders, and removed kind from kind regards, they began to lose sympathy and we were all now having a tough time.

Despite a last minute cleaning operation, we later found we accrued £1115.00’s worth of repair work, and coupled with the rent arrears of £650, our deposit wasn’t in good steed at all. Like a toupée caught in a gust of wind, it was gone.

I theorized the £1115.00 was spent on injuries sustained by the deposit company when they visited the house after our departure. I suspected they had found a monster created from abandoned pizzas, student sandwiches, rats, sofa hymen, ants and mysterious black ooze. I guess I’ll never really know how we caused so much damage.

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Interpretation

After all the madness of hurried cleaning and whinging about deposits, coupled with a new job, I suddenly realised I had just a week left to find somewhere new to live and my contract was about to expire…

What was I going to do?

I couldn’t end up living with anyone worse… surely?

 

To Be Continued

 


Other topics:
Trump | Jobs | Teenager | Urbexing | Valentines | First Girlfriend | Catfish | The Incident | Paris | Nan | The Bedroom Embarrassment

Currently breaking the Internet at Facebook | Instagram | Twitter |

I’m now on Youtube !

I’m raising money for charity and achieving goals at http://rupertsresolutions.tumblr.com