For our second day at Southsea we’ve decided to walk the prom/seafront and its environs, taking in a few places we know of and some we don’t.
From our hotel, we need to cross the common and turn left on to the promenade, which becomes smarter and free of the heavy machinery that’s employed in strengthening the flood defences.
I love the architecture here- tall, grand terraces, some of them five floors high, lining the streets leading to the sea or facing the sea itself, although on this January day the sea is iron-grey and visibility poor.
We come to a ‘tropical’ garden, with a faux mini-waterfall, pathways snaking around the palms. Even now, in the depths of a UK winter it’s attractive, with an assortment of green plants and trees providing a variety of textured leaves. Further along there’s [yet another!] pier, then on our left, across the road there is a park with a large boating lake, where swans and ducks have taken residence, coating the surrounding footpath in large dollops of excrement. These have to be negotiated in order to circumnavigate! At one end of the lake there’s a cafe, but we’re heading for the tiny museum, housed in an old house just outside the park.
We know that there’s a butterfly house inside the museum, although when we enter the warm enclosure it soon becomes clear that only one species is visible. They are interesting and spectacular but once we’ve seen them…
The museum is clearly aimed at visiting school parties, with its accent on environmental issues, the ‘only man is vile’ take. Amongst stuffed versions of our own wild birds and mammals there are, bizarrely, models of exotic creatures such as alligators. The lobby is dominated by a large, ambitious model of a dinosaur, looking a little battered and worse for wear. Presumably someone had harboured dreams of echoing the London Natural History Museum’s diplodocus…
It doesn’t take long to complete a tour of the museum, which, to be fair, is free to view. We exit and loop back away from the seafront towards the shopping centre, for tea.
For our last evening we choose to visit an Italian restaurant, Giuseppe’s, which is a stone’s throw from our hotel. On this Saturday evening the small place is packed out with diners, which bodes well, but we’re glad we’ve booked a table. It appears to be run by two brothers who are both gregarious and pleasingly Italian, greeting people in dramatic fashion and creating a fun atmosphere. It’s typically cosy in the restaurant and the decor is characterful and quirky.
The meals are delicious and filling- I’m unable to finish mine. We’re pleased to have chosen this place. We move on to the pub for a last drink before returning to the hotel.
During this short break, the sore throat I’d been harbouring for two days has morphed into a heavy, streaming cold. By the time we get home it has moved on into full-throttle flu, the worst bout of which that I can ever remember. So much for holidays!
Anecdotage 