I visited Weston-super-Mare for the first time in the mid Nineties. It was a long bank holiday weekend. I’d gone with a friend who had family there. He’d lived there for a while when young.

The friend had two reasons for asking me: I had wheels to get there; having someone to go drinking with beat sitting round with his mum and stepdad for four days.

It worked. We were meant to stay with them four nights. Though, such were the attractions of Weston it only ended up being one. Maybe two, memory’s a little hazy. There was definitely a making a point of going back specifically for a roast dinner, grabbing a shower then shooting off down the pub again; my memory might be counting that as a night.

If you like pubs, by which I mean the traditional old British style pub, full and buzzing most nights of the week with joviality, singing and dance, then Weston was at that time like Disneyland.

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