A one-way ticket to drunksville

THIS is a Weymouth Railway Station announcement. The drunks blocking our entrance steps, swearing at each other and dumping beer cans on the pavement are the 1:57pm Lunchtime Special to Oblivion.

On departure they will almost certainly be calling at Unable to Halt, Much Quaffing, Sumoor Pleeesh, Missed in the Bog, Inmacups, Bellybelch, Swigton and, hopefully, Yawnicked.

Of course, there never is such a station announcement but, unfortunately, there very definitely are drunks displaying their lifestyle to anyone using Weymouth Station.

My visit to collect a passenger left me torn between finding out how his train was doing and keeping watch on my car, which had to be parked just a few feet from the drunks.

Their conversation was loud, incoherent and peppered with eff-this, eff-that and eff-the-other all tastefully stitched into spluttering arguments which seemed to flare up almost at will among the six men involved.

The only care they took was to avoid spilling their cans and there was much arm waving and finger-pointing to emphasise that their point – whatever the hell it was – was the right one.

I ended up being in the station for about ten minutes and I warned station staff what was happening outside, but as I got in our car and pulled safely away out of their verbal reach they left me with one more gem.

“Shut your f****** mouth before I f****** shut it for you!”

Now who could say fairer than that?

What goes around comes around

NOW is the time of year when you start finding all those things you lost last autumn and wondered where they had gone.

So far my haul includes a dice my neighbours lost while playing a board game on their decking last year. That turned up in one of my flowerbeds.

I’ve also found a football, a tennis ball, some sort of whirly copter toy, a dog’s rubber bone (we don’t have a dog), a baby’s sock (we don’t have a baby) and half an indelible pencil. I wondered where that had gone. It turned up somehow at the back of a stack of bricks.

Other finds have so far included a packet of vegetable seeds I spent 15 minutes searching for in my shed only to find them in the pocket of the garden coat I was wearing and a gob of shiny earth which revealed itself as the bell off a cat collar.

I’m just waiting to stumble across a few missing gardening tools and my haul will be complete although that probably won’t happen until the autumn when I no longer need them by which time I’m bound to have lost a few other things. What goes around comes around.

Go fly a kite!

IT’S the great annual kite festival on Weymouth Beach this weekend and for the first time ever the council has put in several entries.

One is called “Budget”, an unusual display which cuts across the sky bursting with vitality before slowly deflating to lie limp on the sands.

Crowds can also look forward to the authority’s stunning Pavilion entry featuring a giant inflatable replica of the Pavilion. It will be briefly held close to the ground by a winch before its mile-long line is unwound to send it soaring way above Weymouth. This offering entitled “Now Your See It Now You Don’t” portrays changing times in the town.

There is also bound to be a big cheer for the authority’s Condor entry, produced in collaboration with the ferry company and showing a gaily painted seagoing vessel in the shape of a gigantic pound sign. No spikes will be driven into the beach to secure the Condor entry on advice from structural repair engineers working on the nearby harbour wall. 

Instead it will be tied to the nearest laser light to provide a positive conclusion if the entry breaks free and blows away.

Finally children will be encouraged to join in the council’s spectacular Workforce entry by joining a workshop to make little inflatable figures which will later be gathered together for a mass release. Don’t miss it.

Keep calm and carry on complaining

PLEASE can you all be a bit kinder to council officials who seem to be under a great deal of stress in recent times.

That unfortunate incident at Preston where a mini roundabout was painted on the road twice as big as it should have been was a rare lapse and should not be held against them.

I know there was also a bit of confusion over cycle symbols painted all over a pavement off Chickerell Road but it could have happened to anyone.

Of course there were those tiny problems caused by road markings at the Boot Hill junction fiasco but a bit more paint and a few more daubs soon sorted that out.

Then there was also that blip where another sign painted on the road at Manor Roundabout directed town centre traffic out to Upwey.

Actually, now I come to think of it, keep on complaining.

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Three Cups on the agenda - yet again!

ONE thing you have to say for Lyme Regis Town Council, they don’t give up easily.

I missed last week’s meeting of the Strategy and Policy Committee but read the agenda papers before hand. including a well presented report on the former Three Cups Hotel.

The report was put together by councillors Lucy Campbell and Rikey Austin and they had clearly worked hard to come up with a list of recommendations which will more than demonstrate to the owners, Palmers Brewery, that they will probably never win over the town council as far as the Three Cups is concerned.

It is quite clear that the majority of the council have still not accepted that the Cups will never be an hotel again.

My first reaction on reading the report was: “Oh not again. Why don’t they accept that Palmers will never return this bulding to its previous glory?”

Part of the report was about making sure the building is brought back into productive use without further delay. I fully concur with this but I find myself in total disagreement, yet again, over the rest of their thinking.

And despite the brilliant work put in by John Dover and his “Save The Three Cups as a Heritage Hotel” group, I don’t think the people of Lyme care so much about it being returned as an hotel as we are led to believe.

What the people of Lyme do want, of course, is to see the building made safe and attractive,  an asset to the town centre rather than an eyesore, the provision of jobs, and a much needed access to the Langmoor Gardens.

Palmers have a scheme in place with a revised version being made available for public consultation in a couple of months with, hopefully, a planning application going in later in the year.

If successful, a start could be made next year.

Turning the Cups back into an hotel is not a realistic proposal in the current financial climate. 

The scheme Palmers are putting forward will cost several million but they are businessmen and they will want to see a return on their investment.

The report which went before councillors last week, with all recommendations approved with just a couple of dissenters (now the norm), talked about the council using its position to help steer things forward.

What position? They are not the land owners, they are not the planning authority and what influence they have over the planners they are jeopardising by voting on its future before being asked to comment on the plans. It’s called pre-determination.

They are in a position to influence public opinion - and by golly they have worked hard at that. We should applaud them for that for past town councils did precious little to get Palmers and the planners around a table to come up with a solution.

Hopefully, we now have one. It’s time to see it through to fruition.

Pub where we bought first pint

THOSE of my generation will be disappointed to hear that Palmer’s are planning to finally close the Angel Inn.

The news surprised none of us - we all knew that it was unlikely that the Angel would open again after being closed since 2009.

Dozens of pubs are closing every day up and down the land and it was pretty obvious that a back street pub in Lyme was never going to turn in a profit, having been shut for four years.

But many of us will remember the Angel as the place where we spent a great deal of our misspent youth, playing skittles for the Psychedelic Ravers (yes, that was really our name) and enjoying late night sing-songs. My fellow team members included Barry Rattenbury, Doug Rattenbury, Dick Hodder, Mike Blackmore, Howard Larcombe, Dave Reed - good chaps all of them.

This was in the Swinging Sixties, the best time ever to grow up.

The Angel was where I bought my first alcoholic drink – a pint of Black and Tan for one shilling and a penny – a waste of money as it soon ended up in the River Lim!

The landlord was jovial and kindly Ted Oakes who probably knew we weren’t old enough to drink but always kept us on the straight and narrow, well most of the time. 

It’s where we would have a few pints to build up our Dutch courage before going onto the “Big Beat” dances at the Marine Theatre in the hope we would meet the girl for our dreams.

Some us did. But that’s another story…

EVENT OF THE WEEK... 

I CAN’T let last week’s cup final victory by Lyme Regis Football Club pass without comment. The club I have been connected with for 50 years (having played by first game for the Reserves at the age of 14), picked up the Dorset Intermediate Cup for the eighth time - a record in county football - with a 2-1 victory over Gillingham Town A.

To be honest, it wasn’t a great game of football, local cup finals rarely are,  but it was won in true Seasider style, coming from behind to snatch the winner late in the game with a magnificent goal from Mark Bailey that would grace any cup final. And it was Mark’s 100th goal for the club, a fine achievement.

The final was played at Dorchester Town’s impressive stadium on the extremities of Poundbury and, as always, there was a big contingent from Lyme to cheer on our boys. 

When I arrived at the ground the club bar was already buzzing with supporters and old players and as usual we chatted about cup finals we had played in.  

In my time we never won any county honours but in the years since the name of Lyme Regis FC has appeared many times on the Dorset Junior and Intermediate Cups.

In this standard of football Lyme continues to be one of the most successful clubs in Dorset and I am sure there are many more honours to come. 

It was great seeing all our young players looking so smart in suits and ties, a tradition at the Lyme club. The celebrations were just getting going when we made our way home, with the cup being filled and passed from player to player, and continued, I understand, back at the Davey Fort until the early hours.

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60 SECOND INTERVIEW: Nicola Kathrens

OVER the past 15 years former actress Nicola Kathrens has grown a one-woman clothing business in Coombe Street, Lyme Regis, into one of the town’s must-see shopping attractions. Her unique designs of rare knitwear are tirelessly hand-made and it takes Nicola many hours to create each item. The results are sought by women visiting from all over the world.

HOW long have you lived in Lyme and why did you come here? 

In 1997, under the cover of night, I detonated an old life in London and as it was burning I quickly packed the two cats and as many belongings as could squeeze into my Mini and I hightailed it out of there in the direction of Lyme Regis, to re-invent myself and begin a new life by the sea. I enjoyed a busy life in the theatre - I was constantly performing nationally and internationally, living on adrenaline, applause, parties, alcohol and very little sleep. It was a blast but after 15 years I was tired and in need of a rest and a change of scene.

WHY did you set up your shop?

I have always hankered after doing a-one woman show. This is it.

WHAT is special about your creations?

The sneering contempt of my grammar school needlework teacher, Miss Johnson, instilled in me an abject terror of anything to do with sewing and sewing machines. The fact that I earn my living this way makes everything I produce special. In fact it makes it miraculous.

OF WHICH creations are you most proud?

It has taken me countless years for me to recognise my skills and feel proud of what I do. Perhaps being brought up a Catholic had some influence. The sin of being proud of one’s self would surely send me ricocheting into the fires of hell and eternal damnation? However, as I am now over that, I couldn’t and wouldn’t single out any one of  “my girls” over another. I am proud of everything I make whether intricately laden with stitching and beading or jaw droppingly simple and understated.

TELL us about your customers.

My customers are women. Collectors of rare wearable beauty. They come from all over the world and from all walks of life. I am a serendipitous discovery for some. For others I am a destination to return to again and again.

WHAT is your price range?

My prices are from £165 to £2,500. My sizing is from Fairy to Rubensesque. I have a one off range of clothes that are rare and unrepeatable. I have a hand knitted range. It’s like a limited-edition print run. I provide a made to measure service on these styles.

YOU were an actress before a seamstress, of which production are you most proud?

In the 1980s I worked with Common Stock Theatre Company running a show called Getting Through, a musical for teenagers challenging the stereotyping of young girls going through school. We were invited to be ambassadors of our dear Queen, twice at the world festival of children’s theatre in Toronto. I had never witnessed such knee-buckling, awe-inspiring, never to be forgotten, mouth-drying, heart-racing, funny, moving, huge, clever, challenging, brilliant, loud unforgettable and dangerous theatre ever. Or since. It was spoken and sung in languages from all over the world and I was part of that.

WHAT do you most like about living here?

I hear the sea, smell the sea and see the sea every single day.

HOW do you spend your time when you are not working?

Mostly, I stare into middle distance and practise the art of doing very little - with lie by the fire laziness and a cold glass of prosecco in hand.

WHO would be your ideal guests for a dinner party?

Patsy from Absolutely Fabulous, David Attenborough, Imelda Staunton, Sandy Toksvig, Kathy Burke and Bill Bailey - intelligent funny outrageous eloquent company.

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Is there anybody there?

A SPECTRAL reaction has hit Weymouth and Portland council’s decision to sell off its own offices on North Quay to save money.

A recent meeting in Number One committee room came in for some ghostly comment which bore a striking relation to some of the debates that room has seen in recent decades.

The first anyone knew anything was wrong came when the pneumatic doors opened... and no-one came in to the room.

Gaping doors matched gaping jaws, nothing clear cut emerging from either, and a short while later the doors closed by themselves.

When later in the meeting the doors again opened by themselves there were a few nervous titters with darting glances to ensure others had seen the phenomena and that it wasn’t the first indication that some member was going off their rocker.

Attempts to force them closed didn’t achieve much, again like some council debates, and it finally appeared that a glitch which had dogged the door mechanism before might be back.

Whatever the reason, it was nice to see a civic version of an old pub from the village where I used to live as a child.

Some centuries ago a weary traveller stopped at the pub seeking food and shelter but, despite much knocking and shouting, he couldn’t find anybody there. Ever since then the pub has been called the Nobody Inn.

The grim reality of having no money

BELT tightening has become a grim fact of modern economic times, but just recently even that is being taken to extremes.

Being around town a lot I have increasingly noticed a very strange set of circumstances over the last two months that started out as a single incident but, as I write, has now happened three times in the last week alone.

It seems that poor smokers are now so desperate that they are almost patrolling the streets in search of large dogends.

I watched one man pick up three separate discards in quick succession, earlier I saw a young man also pick up a dogend while women are not excluded because I’ve seen them do the same thing as well.

Many years ago I used to be a smoker but prices have vastly increased since those days, so I took a glance at Tesco’s website to update myself and I was stunned to be shown that a modern 20-pack of Benson & Hedges Gold costs £7.97. No wonder people are going round picking up dogends!

Each cigarette costs 40 pence, so I suppose half a dozen decent sized discards and you’ve got to have picked up £1 worth of tobacco.

Another sign of the times is money dropped in the street. It doesn’t stay there long.

I’ve seen pensioners pounce on a coin they’ve spotted on the pavement while the smiles on children’s faces when they’ve found a coin could have lit the street up.

Maybe I’ve come to this scenario late because I haven’t really been aware of either type of incident until recent months. Brings home to you just how hard lives are becoming.

Tomato memories

GARDENERS everywhere are in the throws of planting seeds and visiting garden centres to buy what flowers and vegetable seedlings they may want for the coming summer months.

Going to an expert site is sometimes handy because you can see the plants you want in an advanced state of growth without having to wonder if your own efforts will prove good enough for purpose, but years ago there was another way of doing this for one particular fruit.

Several tomato seeds on my kitchen windowsill have produced some nice seedlings, but you didn’t have to bother doing that when tons of Channel Island tomatoes used to be landed on Weymouth Quay.

There were inevitably a few squashed ones and a recent conversation I had with a man who remembered such cargoes revealed that sturdy tomato seeds used to spring up into seedlings along the quay railway lines, providing an easy source of plants for people’s gardens.

Such major tomato cargo deliveries are long gone but the railway lines are still there while an area which was the tomato cargo stage used to have its own little railway line to carry boxes of tomatoes.

Sorry, Bobby!

A COMEDY of errors recently occurred on Weymouth seafront when a resident couldn’t believe who was walking along towards him.

The familiar face struck a chord and he immediately realised it was “that comic off the TV” as he struggled to put a name to a face.

The comic realised his celebrity status had been spotted and with a smile he gave the resident a firm handshake.

The starstruck resident finally recovered and said: “Les Dennis. Love your work. Nice to meet you.”

Not to be outdone, the comic replied that it was nice to meet the resident, too, before continuing hurriedly with his walk.

In the resident’s own words: “Just a tad too late to correct myself, I belatedly realised that the person I had just met was actually Bobby Davro! Oh well, I expect they get used to that sort of thing.”

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Anita succeeds in keeping her Dad in check

THE job the Mayor - any mayor - dreads most is chairing the annual town meeting, now referred to as the annual meeting of electors.

It’s the one opportunity that residents have  to make life awkward for councillors by asking a few difficult questions. 

Last week’s meeting was no exception, although the attendance - around 20 - was disappointing. In fact, if you took out councillors’ partners and Woodmead Halls staff, probably only half a dozen or so were there out of genuine interest. 

You can draw one of two conclusions from the small numbers: either the electorate of Lyme are happy with the way the town is being run - or they couldn’t care less. I will leave you to make up your own mind.

I well remember the annual town meetings I chaired when I occupied the mayoral chair back in 1984.  In fact, I had to officiate at two such meetings as my predecessor John Broderick escaped chairing his own meeting (can’t remember the reason why) when I was his deputy, and, of course, I had my own meeting during my term of office. Both of them were difficult experiences, especially for one so young(!), with a number of contentious issues, the main one being the signing over of land at Monmouth Beach to West Dorset District Council, a subject that will soon be raising its head again with the expiry of the lease. 

Firebrand councillor Stan Williams was at his most belligerent and gave me a particular hard time. (Note to Mark Gage: I know what you’re going through!).

Stan is very much still in the news as far as council matters are concerned, although no longer a member, fighting his corner for the Woodmead Halls, where he is the chairman.

The current mayor, Sally Holman, managed to legitimately escape this year’s meeting because she was representing the town in Bermuda, so the chair was taken by her deputy, Anita Williams, coincidentally Stan Williams’ daughter.

I thought Anita did a really good job chairing the meeting, answering the various questions with candour and batting away a couple of  googlies that could have caused a few upsets.

With her father having served Lyme as a councillor for more than 40 years and her uncle, Pete Williams, having also done his bit, public service is very much a way of life for the Williams family. I thought Anita demonstrated that she would make an excellent First Citizen when her career allows her to take on the role. Her time will come. She even managed to keep her dad in check - which is more than I did!

The annual meeting of electors allows those who follow the affairs of the council closely (a declining number I’m afraid) to really  get to grips with council issues which never really seem to go away.

Ken Gollop, Nigel Ball and Derek Hallett did their best to install a bit of vim and vigour into the proceedings and among the old chestnuts aired were the church railings, heavy lorries, street cleaning and affordable homes. 

Ken livened things up a bit when he asked whether councillors supported the heritage and traditions of the town and Derek generated a bit of throat clearing from the top table when he posed the question: “Is there a morale problem among council staff?” following the recent departure of long-serving town clerk Mike Lewis, shortly to be followed by much respected administrative officer Vickie Stickler.

Ken also managed to get Mark Gage to confirm his view that he was in favour of separating the roles of mayor and council chairman, a subject that is likely to become a real hot potato in the coming months.

Mark made it clear he did not want to abolish the role of mayor but to allow the First Citizen to concentrate on the town’s ceremonial matters whilst a separate chairman was elected to oversee the smooth running of the administration.

Anita Williams made her views clear when she said she would have to be “dragged screaming” out the Guildhall if anyone tried to abolish the position of mayor.

All good stuff!

Don’t paint out the clock names

WHEN Mike Lewis made a very funny but emotional speech at the recent Civic Night, bidding farewell to Lyme Regis Town Council after more than 20 years service (13 of them as town clerk) he joked that it wouldn’t be long before the councillors removed his name from the Millennium Clock.

We all chuckled but inwardly thought: “They would never do that!”

Last week, at a meeting of the Town Management Committee, that’s exactly what our councillors considered doing. They did not actually go as far to agree to paint out the names of Mike Lewis and the mayor at the time, Owen Lovell, who has given 35 years service as a town and district councillor, including two terms as mayor, but they are thinking about it. The reason? Because, they say, spending what would be a relatively small amount of money on a pot of gold leaf paint, was a waste of money. 

The Millennium Clock was surrounded in controversy when the council decided to mark the millennium by its erection in the Cobb Gate car park. But whether they like it or not, the clock is now part of the town’s heritage. Recording the names of the council’s senior officer and mayor at important times in our history is an accepted part of local government.

Mike Lewis will see the funny side of this but I hope the council steps back from painting out his name and that of Owen Lovell.  

In my view it would be an unnecessary and disrespectful act and if the council really can’t afford it, I’m sure someone will come up with the cash.

It’s official! Spring is on the way ...

AFTER such a depressing and awful winter, I can assure you that spring is definitely on the way.

How? Because the first cuckoo was heard by horticuturalist Nigel Ball last week, a day earlier than last year.  And he’s an expert.

We will soon be reporting the first mackerel of the season.

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60 SECOND INTERVIEW: Jane Silver-Corren

JANE Silver-Corren was born in London, growing up in Roehampton before going to boarding school – an experience she disliked. A keen singer from an early age, Jane went on to become festivals co-ordinator in Hounslow, London before orchestrating the Chard Festival of Women in Music. Realising the multiple benefits of singing, Jane retrained as an occupational therapist specialising in music in therapy. Now living in Bridport, she set up Singing for the Brain and Rising Voices both using the power of singing to improve lives. She is currently Bridport’s Town Crier.

WHAT is Singing for the Brain?

About five years ago I heard how singing was being used to support people with dementia so I approached the local branch of The Alzheimers society to support me to train to run these groups. I trained in Bristol and shortly after set up three groups in Dorchester, Weymouth and Bridport that have now been going for four to five years.

WHAT is Rising Voices?

Rising Voices started at The Light House in Poole supported by the NHS in January. It is a singing group to support people living with cancer. We have started a small off shoot branch in Bridport that will meet on alternate Thursdays 3pm to 4pm in The Front Room in Downes Street, Bridport. 

WHAT makes singing so beneficial?

Much research has been done to show that singing has a positive effect on those coping with long-term illness. The groups are very friendly, supportive, stimulating and uplifting. It is also good exercise and good for your breathing.

WHAT if you can’t sing very well?

Anybody can enjoy singing. It doesn’t matter what you sound like. The more you do it, the easier it will become. In the groups the stronger singers support those who are less confident. It creates a good feeling of community.

WHAT styles of singing do you listen to?

I like all styles of music. I am particularly keen on world music as it is all so different and interesting. Classical music isn’t my favorite but I still enjoy some of it. I love music you can dance to. It’s fun to sing and dance at the same time and we do some of that in my singing groups. I am very keen on disco music but unfortunately we don’t do that much of it in the groups.

WHO are your favourite singers?

I really enjoy soulful voices, like George Benson and Stevie Wonder. Female voices, Oumou Sangare from Senegal is one of my favorites and Joni Mitchel. One of my favourite bands in Arrested Development - yes they are still going. Speech, their lead singer is really fantastic. I like really good rap and hip hop.

WHAT is so special about singing in a group?

Singing in a group rather than alone is great for harmonies, moral support and a sense of community.

WHO in the world would you most like to encourage to sing?

People who feel lonely and isolated. I would encourage them to join a group or just go a long and have a sing song anywhere - folk clubs, places of worship, etc. It really cheers you up. Maybe we should get a few politicians to have a sing song – it might lighten them up a bit. Nick Clegg, Ed Miliband and David Cameron in three part harmony, fab.

IS THERE a concert you have sung in that sticks out?

The best concert I have sung in was in St Catherine’s Chapel, Abbotsbury with Sammy Hurden’s singing group and musicians from the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra singing songs about the Jurassic coast. Everything about it was fantastic. It was part of a series of concerts called Jurassic Journeys.

WHO would you most like to sing with - living or dead?

I’d like to have had a bit of a sing with my dad. He really liked certain songs, such as One Wheel on my Wagon, and I was Born Under a Wandering Star. But I don’t think we ever sung together. It’s a bit late now as he’s been dead for six years, so I’ll make the most of singing with other people in my family and friends instead. My mum knows loads of songs and when I’m stuck on a song I always ring her for help! I wouldn’t mind singing with The Wombles - maybe live at Glastonbury.

THE mic is yours. The band is ready. A hush descends. What’s the song you sing?

I’d sing the Labi Siffre song Something Inside So Strong as it’s such a brilliant song with a fantastic message. Or else a new song I’ve been teaching about a glow worm because it’s so silly and makes people laugh.

. . . AND who is in the front row of the audience?

Probably my dad because he’d enjoy it and be proud, and my partner and kids. And my parrot Ottie Lottie who died a couple of years ago, he’d be on someone’s shoulder, and Pretzel my dog of course.

What is the first song you learned to sing?

Probably Teddy Bears picnic, or The Changing Guards at Buckingham Palace. The first song I remember enjoying is Remember You’re A Womble. I still know it off by heart

Anyone wanting information about any of Jane’s singing groups can ring her on 07887 675161.

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Wafting through the desert of Weymouth’s sandy streets

CAN you hear music from the world famous Lawrence of Arabia film? 

Well even if you can’t, you could have been forgiven for behaving like an extra amid sand dunes on the streets of Weymouth.

Recent windy conditions gave pedestrians a mouthful of sand to chew on and sent skeins of sand snaking all over the town’s streets.

Sand drifted so deep it swiftly built up drifts to submerge the Esplanade beach wall and send stinging particles to form mounds to swamp car parking spaces near Alexandra Gardens.

Large sections of the Esplanade were completely covered and there were banks of sands near Marks & Spencer and the Black Dog pub in St Mary Street where drinkers brave enough to enjoy a pint at outside tables found themselves needing Arab dress to protect themselves from wind-driven sand.

Delightful I’m sure but, when sand is being sought in the summer, let’s hope we don’t have to wipe rain off our faces... again.

Maggie’s mad idea for Portland

MEMORIES have been stirred by the death of former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.

She ended her life as Baroness Thatcher but it was as Secretary of State for Education in 1972 that she set hackles rising on Portland with a proposal to bus over every child at Royal Manor to a new site at the old Weymouth Grammar School, off Chickerell Road.

Mike Jewkes, a former Mayor of Weymouth and Portland, was chairman of Westham School Parent Teacher Association at the time.

He said: “The proposal, to bring the children over on a convoy of double decker buses, was ludicrous and a group was put together to go up to London to see Margaret Thatcher about it on what turned out to be the day of the Old Bailey IRA bombing.

“She listened to what we had to say but refused to change her mind.

“But it was later pointed out that military vehicle convoys of more than 16 vehicles needed outriders and the proposed convoy from Portland would take 25 double decker buses to carry the children which would be too expensive so the idea was dropped. It was a mad idea anyway.”

Missing out on the Easter message?

EASTER in Weymouth proved a peaceful time to remember Jesus Christ’s death at Calvary and his resurrection, a peaceful time for families and children to be together for the exchange of Easter eggs... and hand grenades!

In this country Easter is traditionally a time to reflect on Christ’s sacrifice for us all.

So it required a very swift mental adjustment when, in the heart of Weymouth and in the middle of the Easter period, two children began throwing hand grenades at each other.

I should at this point hastily qualify that statement by saying that the hand grenades in question were toys they had just bought and were gleefully trying out in the street.

Despite that, thoughts did have to be juggled to embrace death and destruction being acted out just a short distance from several churches and religious sites during one of the holiest periods of the year.

Children will be children and no blame should attach to them, but you have to wonder whether the local economic situation is so bad that shops must offer fake hand grenades for sale as part of their Easter sales drive.

Perhaps we can now all look forward to the Christmas period when children will be able to snap up a few traditional offerings such as toy flamethrowers and assault rifles or perhaps a nice tinsel-decked anti-personnel mine?

Will it every get any warmer?

MARCH is now firmly behind us and latest figures show temperatures were well below normal for this time of year.

It was true brass monkey weather, not that we needed a meteorologist to tell us that.

One step outside the front door and the words: “I say! It’s a trifle brisk today” tinkled to the ground, frozen solid as soon as they left people’s mouths.

Among incidents was one child gleefully rushing round clutching a sheet of ice from a public water trough and people retrieving underwear from the washing lines so stiff it would have brought tears to the eyes of the wearer.

Pedestrians wore every stitch of clothing they could cram on and exposed faces were bleached white by the cold, hardly surprising as the wind chill factor in Weymouth went down as low as -9.2C on one day.

Even now – barely nine weeks away from the longest day – there is still a lurking suspicion that the weather is going to spring something nasty on us.

Perhaps the first 70+ Fahrenheit day will finally convince us that warmer weather has arrived... but that looks a long way off yet.

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