It’s easy to forget, when you live across the harbour, quite how lovely Portsmouth can be – especially if you do a bit of shopping before heading to Iceland (for a stodge picnic) and on to Victoria Park to consume it.
Now there’s a lovely spot. It’s pretty and petite, which makes it the perfect size to let the children run off and still be able to see them.
What I particularly like is the calibre of the ‘customers’. On Saturday it was populated by wedding guests. Hundreds of them, in fancy dresses, smart suits and with children scrubbed to pinky freshness.
Because they were gussied up, they were on best behaviour. There wasn’t a gaggle of swearing teens in hoodies, or a scummy mummy yelling at her kids.
It was lovely, like stepping back in time or into a movie.