Martin's Mag.

It’s a bit of a wild place, is Porlock Weir. Something to do with those poets that used to hang around the place a couple of centuries ago. Most famously Coleridge. There is now a Coleridge Way which meanders through the area. More to do with attracting tourists than celebrating the man, I suspect. Anyway, they were all on drugs, him and that Wordsworth and Percy “Bysshe” Shelley (what sort of a nickname is that?). The Weir was the centre of a thriving fishing industry until the twentieth century. We walked from the Weir, along the shoreline and inland to the separate town of Porlock, and back. Avoided most of the showers.

A couple of days in our old stamping ground. We stayed in the Bowcombe Boathouse, thanks to F&P.

By Kilkenny Bay, Portishead.

In Old Sneed Park Nature Reserve (Avon Wildlife Trust).

After the plums and figs, it’s the turn of the pears. Just a fraction of the total crop.

A walk along the river Avon to the east of Bristol, passing the famous Bees Tea Gardens and a heron or two.

There are many things which are usually better in anticipation than actuality. Two of them are picnics and bank holidays. Not this year, though! Portishead Lake Grounds, and the weather, excelled themselves. Everyone knew that rain was forecast for Tuesday, so there was a, hopefully misplaced, “end of Summer” feel to the occasion. [Photos by those present, but not me.]

A pre-Beeching bridge, which is still awaiting the re-instatement of the Bristol to Portishead railway line.