I must go down to the sea again

to the lonely sea

and the sky

and all I ask is a tall ship

and a star to steer her by

and the wheel's kick

and the wind's song

and the white sail's shaking

and a grey mist on the sea's face

and a grey dawn breaking

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In late September, I went down to Portsmouth, on the south coast, for work. It was an evening engagement, so I booked a room in a lovely B&B with a yellow door, in Old Portsmouth, and stayed for another day or so.

Of course the day before my visit, and the day I had to leave, were bright and sunny and clear, and the one full day I had to spend was squally and overcast, but in some ways that was even more appropriate for exploring a coastal town, and after a leisurely breakfast in the Georgian dining room of my accommodation, I set out to look around the old town.

I think 'Spice Island' can only be matched by 'Isle of Dogs' for evocative names

Stumbling across this monument - there's a matching one somewhere in Sydney, apparently - gave me shivers... I think it was the wording: A Great Nation was Born... and so we were

The old town is quite small and compact, but very interesting for all that; there's all manner of steps and ramparts and views out to sea; some of them are old fortifications and some less warlike, but they twist and wind along the water's edge for miles, affording glimpses of water and masts and boats where you sometimes least expect them.

A bit too modern, but somehow still Swallows and Amazons

Portsmouth's main claim to fame is the Historic Dockyard; there are various museums and information centres housed within it, but the most exciting exhibits are the ships - Nelson's Victory, on which he was shot and died during the Battle of Trafalgar; HMS Warrior, a Victorian armoured battleship propelled by both sails and steam; and the Mary Rose, the Elizabethan warship that sank off Portsmouth in 1545, and was reclaimed partially intact, and with thousands of artefacts still on board, in the 1980s. I loved them all, but my favourite was the Victory.

The deck where Nelson was shot

We weren't supposed to take photos on board, but I had to get this one of the dining room

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Can you imagine the cannons waltzing and twirling stiffly on their rails?

Just possibly, the lesser of two weevils

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The Mary Rose, in a hothouse of preserving fluid, constantly pouring over her... it was like seeing her still in the depths of the sea

The morning I had to leave was absolutely gorgeous; I went out for a walk before breakfast and saw the sun rising; it was stunning. I climbed over the fence into the Garrison Church yard to take these photos - the unusual view is due to the missing roof, which was lost during a bombing raid in World War II.