After a relaxing train journey from Tunbridge Wells, all by myself, I meet my sister. From Bournemouth station we grab a taxi to Boscombe Pier and wander eastward to find where we left off a few weeks ago.

It’s a scorching hot sunny day – hard to believe it is only mid February! My sunglasses are on with my hat and scarf surplus to requirements – for today at least..

We set off with the white cliffs of the needles and the red cliffs of Hengistbury Head behind us and the never ending promenade of Bournemouth ahead!

The unseasonal sunshine and half term holiday has brought countless sun worshippers out of their winter hibernation!

We meander along with a steep gorse and scrub laden cliff to our right, flanked by seemingly endless rows of beach huts, an array of colours of the rainbows with bunting flying from many invitingly open doors!

Walking is always my choice of activity but is somewhat dull when compared to the paragliders, roller skaters, scooters, dog walkers and even a guy on a strange set of skis on wheels with ski poles! Brave folk are also zip-wiring from a tower at the end of Bournemouth pier to a platform on the beach..

We stop for a very welcome hot drink beside the funicular railway – not as dramatic as Hastings East Cliff railway but still an intriguing feat of engineering that I love to contemplate.

As we walk along we ponder that, other than the railway station, we have seen nothing of the buildings and infrastructure that are I guess the other side of this cliff – it feels quite removed from the city!

The sandy beach goes on and on, flanked by the beach huts and enjoyed by dogs (only till April) children building sandcastles and even the occasional swimmer.

After five miles or so the beach huts give way to dwellings, extremely luxurious looking dwellings with glass frontages overlooking the English Channel – Studland beach, Old Harry Rocks, the Isle of Wight and Bournemouth..

We are delighted when we finally see the Haven Hotel – our haven for the night, a large white structure nestled at the end of the Sandbanks peninsula, which happens to be Britain’s most expensive coastal location to live at!

Thankfully the sea is out as the entrance is around the corner – we clamber over slippery sea defences and up a vertical metal ladder to the front of the hotel and in through the inviting wooden revolving door. Service is pretty gruff at reception and our room is a long walk down the never ending corridors but oh how pleased we are to peel off our backpacks and slump on the sofa.