"Slowly giving up the Ho(e)" a Plymouth Travel Page by lucyt

Of all British cities Plymouth has perhaps been the most violated by wars. Not so very long ago it was at once quaint and vibrant. It had a respectable boat building and other viable industries of which all that really remains is the gin distillery. Beautiful architecture has been lost to both bombers and criminally short sighted city planners. A slow economy has meant that cosmetic upgrades have been over-looked and what has resulted is a once enviable community that is now over-burdened with grotesque cement edifices - blind windowed and singularly un-lovely.

However, in the last couple of years this has begun to change.
The Barbican in particular which not so very long ago was abandoned to drunkards and their colourful pools of sick is now almost completely regenerated with cracking little restaurants and some elegant new blocks of flats giving it the genteel air of the south of France (minus the weather). In what was perceived to be a bleak puddle boats now bob jauntily coloured flags snapping smartly in the rarefied air. The change of the nature is reflected in the names of the boats - or more precisely their places of origin.
I could quite happily live here.

It is in the Barbican one can find the Distillery. I urge you to pop in for a wee snifter or two and then stagger/saunter/sway (depending upon your constitution) up the cobble streets into an area that can only be referred to a Anhk-Morpork-esqe. Abutting the wholeheartedly hideous Court House you'll find some quite wonderful architecture dating back from the 16 and 17 centuries.

There is also of course the main drag of Cornwall Street. This is where the shops are. You could be anywhere really - it's a regular UK High Street. It does, however, occasionally sport French and German markets. The Council invites traders over from their native turf to sell regional goodies. In the run up to Christmas it's a great place to pick up traditional German decorations and biscuits and the like.

The Union Street with its whores and bar brawls remains resolutely the same. It was like it in my parents' day - it'll be like it when my children are grown. Of that I have no doubt.