Bournemouth can be a winter wonderland

If you’re the type of person who ‘winters’ anywhere these days you likely won’t be looking to Bournemouth (or anywhere in Britain for that matter) for your quotient of seasonal escapism during the dark months.

But for a short break at least, Bournemouth decks itself out as something of a winter wonderland that’s closer and cheaper than Lapland.

Located on the south coast between Poole harbour to the west and Southampton to the east, Bournemouth is two hours and a world away from Oxford by train.

I often contend that Oxford is the greatest city in Britain, and defend it scrupulously when I hear it criticised. It has beauty and style, it’s not too big or too small, the shopping is good, the parks are great, and it’s fabulously international.

On travelling to Bournemouth I couldn’t help but admit that for all its brilliance, there is one thing that Oxford lacks. And that is a glorious stretch of sand and a vast horizon of sea and sky.

In my humble opinion Oxford needs nothing more than a beach in order to contend with Barcelona in the ‘The Great City with everything you could possible want including a beach’ awards. Alas, we must travel for this pleasure, and two hours train ride is the shortest trek to the first decent beach.

If Bournemouth could speak it would be the first to declare the beach its greatest feature; like a wide, white, perfectly formed smile on an otherwise ordinary face.

I’m a firm believer in the restorative powers of the seaside and though I’ve tried in other places, that wonderful feeling of being ‘aired’ can’t be replicated anywhere but by the sea.

Scientists of the past believed that it was the iodised air that put a spring in your step, to the extent that in 1850 a sanatorium for the treatment of chest illnesses was built not 10 minutes walk from the beach.

I like to think that the secret joy of the seaside lies in salty hair, cheeky seagulls, ice lollies, snatches of sunshine, splashing in the shallows and the endless hours of pleasure to be had from mountains of damp sand and rubbishy plastic buckets and spades. The formula has less to do with science, more to do with fun.

Bournemouth: A lovely destination for a warm day. But what a different beast an autumnal or winter beach is. It morphs into something rather distinct from its summer cousin.

As I strolled along the promenade the sky was dark and hung low over the churning cold sea, the sand underfoot was crunchy with frost. In that instant, Bournemouth beach was more invigorating and liberating than on any mid-summer day, though I wasn’t too keen on having a paddle.

It felt like a totally different place to the beach that attracts sun worshippers. This beach was tough and it was taking a battering.

Leading right off the gardens in the town centre it’s easily accessible so despite the weather reversal, it was lovely to take a bracing stroll and feel like I’d earned my dinner.

The pier is a striking landmark, built in 1880, when the resort was in its heyday, to replace a wooden structure. From the promontory you can look out over the sweeping beach and admire the view.

Even with a dark sky and wet road running by, the sand glowed ethereally like a freshly iced Christmas cake and I felt the first glimmers of seasonal excitement rising within.

I’d always considered resorts like Bournemouth the haunt of the ‘golden oldie brigade’ who visit because they nostalgically remember the glory years of early holiday making.

This is probably still true, but the city has worked hard to attract a younger crowd.

If the winter weather simply gets too depressing, then visit the Oceanarium for a rainy day treat. It’s probably one for the kids, but I will happily admit to enjoying my afternoon visit even without a toddling chaperone.

The resident celebrities are definitely the turtles who mooch by in a huge open tank and occasionally, if they can be bothered, give you a glance.

There are regular feedings with commentary, which are worth a listen.

I remember being enchanted by the underwater world as a child, and places like this would set my imagination on fire. For an hour or two of relative peace and quiet it’s worth bringing the little ones here. Small children seem to find tanks of fish mesmeric.

A more seasonal offering for the kids (though infinitely more painful for you) is the Christmas pantomime staged annually at the Pavilion. Even if accompanied by a five-year-old, I can’t imagine a more unbearable experience. But so as not to appear too miserly I will admit that for the kiddies, no Christmas would be complete without a pantomime. The productions here are glitzy, ritzy and Christmassy and exactly what the discerning pantomime-going child is looking for.

This year ‘s production is Snow White featuring Su Pollard and kids’ TV presenter Chris Jarvis.

I reckon a large glass of plonk will see you through it. Better yet, head down to the Christmas markets in the town plaza afterwards to glug some hot gluhwein and browse the German stalls. It’s not the largest or most comprehensive Christmas market (Manchester and Edinburgh host particularly fantastic ones) but it’s pleasing nonetheless.

Having a jolly round man in lederhosen hand you hot booze helps the festive spirit along.

The gluhwein, though lubricating, can’t be guaranteed to improve your performance on the temporary ice rink in Purbeck Hall at the Bournemouth International Centre.

Nothing ensures hilarity quite like ill-fitting skates and unbalanced novices, and though I checked both those boxes it’s impossible to resist having a go.

Boscome, a suburb just down the coast, advertises it’s own temporary rink throughout December, but it’s small, crowded and not worth the bus trip.

You’ll work up an appetite on the rink if not on account of the sea air, so for a truly indulgent meal head to West Beach restaurant on the sea front. Showcasing British seafood like native oysters and lobster the food here is simply delicious, but it is quite pricey too. The cheapest dish on the menu, a posh fish finger sandwich, cost almost £8.

For something more homely, try Coriander on Richmond Hill. Bright but cosy, and serving piles of Mexican ‘fast food’, the folks at Coriander know how to stoke the belly fire with good old comfort grub. There’s cheese. Lots and lots of cheese.

Try the chimichanga, which is a deep-fried filled tortilla topped with… cheese. I salute anyone who can polish off a whole one of those. It’s not quite a delicacy exclusive to Bournemouth, I’ll admit.

So aside from the occasional Tory Party conference, Christmas markets and miles of wintry beach, is there quite enough in Bournemouth to inspire a seasonal visit?

A whole winter might be pushing it Mr Hardy, but a few days will do quite nicely.