This afternoon I took the opportunity to swing by new POTA park GB-5719 Nothe Gardens, right next to WCA G-01117 Nothe Fort, the Napoleonic defense that dominates the Weymouth coastline.

I had hoped to take in a second park on the way home, so I brought along the QRO kit, hoping to get 10 QSOs in the log in both parks relatively quickly. However, it seems Tuesday afternoon was not popular with the hunters this week and I really struggled. Despite kicking out 100W on the 20m band, after 45 minutes I had only 9 in the log. Luckily, thanks to LB8X activating a POTA 2-fer, that’s enough to qualify my activation—but only just.

With a 7-minute wait for each of my last two QSOs, a chill wind blowing and the sky slowly darkening, I decided to call it quits on the radio for today. I do love Nothe Gardens, and I’ll be back again when warmer winds and lighter evenings come again.

The reason I love it, is because once upon a time I lived there.

It’s no secret that part of my joy in blogging my portable radio adventures is to talk about all the places I remember from my childhood, and this one looms large in my memory.

This is where my childhood ended.

That sounds bad. I mean it in the best way.

Photo Credit: Julian Walker (wirewiper), Flickr. Licenced CC 2.0 by-nc-nd.

Like I said on the Portland Rove, my time living in Weymouth and on Portland came too early for the digital camera age, and without my parents to take and preserve physical photos, I don’t have much photographic evidence of this part of my life. It’s probably for the best. But this blog is coming up to its 25th birthday, and so it comes full circle as there certainly is blog post evidence, like this post shortly after making one of my fondest memories at 2 Nothe Parade, sat on the staircase drinking cider and listening to Dylan.

Aged 17, this was my first time living away from my rather strict parents, living instead with friends who were all in their early 20s. It was a whole new world.

Looking back through my old blog posts, I guess there were some bad times there — and I won’t miss being woken up at dawn by the gulls congregating outside my window, or the lack of heating in my attic room. But my memory of my time living in Weymouth is largely viewed through rose-tinted spectacles now; how we cooked and ate together, drank and partied together.

I remember Trawler Race Day, when the pubs open at 9am and by lunchtime we were all plastered; being offered champagne to celebrate my 18th birthday in the nightclub before the barmaid realised she’d been serving me for months and rescinded the offer; pub quizzes in the Black Dog and cozy evenings in the Nothe Tavern.

I remember my renting situation being an illegal sub-let, but then I also remember trying to contact the landlord and being told that he was in France “seeing a man about some whippets”, and how the letting agent stole money from the business and left his wife to run away to Ibiza with his boyfriend, so I’m not sure anyone involved was entirely above board.

I remember my plan to kayak to work straight out of our front door, and I remember practicing my kung fu (in uniform, with weapons, no less) in Nothe Gardens.

So there I was again today, twenty-three years later. Back to where my adult life started, and once more doing strange stuff at the Nothe to the general confusion of passers-by.

Thanks to my contacts during today’s activation. See you on the air again tomorrow!