Biscuit donkey chocolate eclair. Weston-Super-Mare. Traffic light pomegranate Yogi Bear Weston-Super-Mare. Slam dunk Bill’s big hair. Weston-Super-Mare. Almost bought a pair of trousers there. Weston-Super-Mare. Don’t look Timmy it’s rude to stare. Weston-Super-Mare. Weston-Super-Mare. Weston Super, Weston Super, Weston-Super-Mare.
Guess where the villain has his secret lair. Weston-Super-Mare. Debonair kitchenware chemical warfare Weston-Super-Mare. Can I take your photo? Don’t you dare. Weston-Super-Mare. I lost my virginity there. Where? Bournemouth. Who wants to be a millionaire? Weston-Super-Mare. Have you got a ticket pay your excess fare Weston-Super-Mare. Don’t move you’ve got something crawling in your hair. Weston-Super-Mare. Weston-Super-Mare. Weston Super Weston Super Weston-Super-Mare.
Underwear everywhere ready to wear Weston-Super-Mare Thoroughfare deckchair devil may care Weston-Super-Mare Solitaire questionnaire update on your software Weston-Super-Mare Can I take your photo? Don’t you dare. Weston Super Mare My sheds in a state of disrepair Weston super mare Loose floorboard on the twenty third stair Weston super mare Elton John once sneezed on the mayor Weston-Super-Mare. Weston-Super-Mare. Weston Super Weston Super Weston-Super-Mare. Weston super mare (oi!) Weston super mare (oi!) Weston Super Weston Super Weston-Super-Mare.
In today’s episode Robert goes along the beach in Paignton for a walk next to the sea and performs two poems. One of them is about a chap called Bill, who just wants to make some noise. The other is about a man who sees a ghost, ooooo!
New poem! I performed this a couple of weeks ago at Paignton Palace Theatre and people have been asking to see it online. It’s a love letter to my home town of Paignton. It’s also featured in my new show Yay! The Search for Happiness, and my forthcoming book Yay!, to be published by Burning Eye.
Seaside soul.
This town is not torrid, nor tainted nor brazen, This tornado of flavours, Chip shops and chopsticks and packets of Quavers, Savour its layers and nautical sailors.
Barbers and harbours and car parks and mars bars A beer at the Pier Inn while peering at the pier thing A stride and a stroll But hide from the gulls your hot sausage rolls It’s the way that we roll With our seaside soul.
High tide drip dry nick nack paddywhack Picnic and a packamac Promenade flapjack Sand in your rucksack Sand in your flapjack Sand in your arsecrack Let’s go to the pub.
Cinema chick flicks Candy floss, pick n mix Fish n chips, kiss me quick Think I feel sick!
Ring road surf shack seaweed stink Caravan holiday It’s worse than you think Dodgy dodgy plumbing and a blocked up sink. Big bands and jazz hands, gleaming sands and One night stands You probably will not understand It’s ain’t no hole With your seaside soul.
Amusements, bemusement, Soup of the day The all day breakfast Only served till midday Have you paid and displayed? Grab your bucket and spade! You’ll never be dismayed Memories fade But your heart will always stay.
This frisky town this sea breezy town This cream tea scene of green seas and freezing dips Donkey rides and cheesy chips Ice cream by the bowl We’ve got seaside soul.
Dancing like lovers on the prom in the rain The hot pulse of life adding fire to my brain The legs of the pier stride deep in the brine Let’s dance once more time, say you’ll be mine We laugh and we grin and we howl at the ships The night is afire and it smells just like chips You bend for a kiss like a child with a doll You asked what’s for dinner, I said, seaside soul.
I asked my assistant Lars to write a full stop on a pebble and place it somewhere on the beach underneath the pier. (See fig A). The pen used for this was the same Parker pen that I’ve used every day since my Grandfather died in 1995. Because of this I thought I might be able to spot the pebble with the full stop on it immediately.
I was very keen to find the pebble with the full stop on it, but alas the search would be in vain. I like the idea of something so insignificant being there, unknown to almost everyone, yet very physical and real. A destination, in fact. Since I was a kid I’ve loved airports, so I’ve always been fascinated with the idea of destinations. I’m now away from the beach but the pebble will still be there and there are a few miles between me and it.
This reminds me of everything that has been lost over the years, and that makes me feel quite sad.
Robert Garnham 