Sad Weymouth Hotels ...

Walking along Weymouth seafront, towards the gaudy statue of George III, I felt the melancholy of the near empty hotels - there they were, a reef of sad stucco and dark windows - 

I imagined sitting in a silent TV lounge, reading an Agatha Christie, perhaps The Murder of Roger Ackroyd - there'd be a mad lurid carpet underfoot - a woman in red high heels would emerge from the creaking lift - 

Upstairs, each bedroom would hoard its secrets - in the bar, an ornate radiogram would start to play Begin The Beguine - 

11.00

14 October 2014

Weymouth Seafront