Typically fraught journey to Blackpool. Problems with a signal in my home station, resulting in a slightly different route to Euston. I arrived at the station on time and headed for the quiet carriage on the train. Not realising that my seat was at the far end of the carriage, which required me to traipse from one end to the other.
I was sitting next to a quiet lady who seemed to be alternating between writing flowery prose (well, her handwriting was pretty, it could very well have been a resignation letter from a much despised company of tea makers or cheese) and randomly fidgeting with the contents of her handbag. On the other side of the aisle, a couple of cyclists relayed anecdotes as though they were going out of fashion. A sixty nine year old kayaker regaling the guy next to her with stories of her youth; how she used to pull the crust off of her bread and hid it under the carpet. The cleaning lady apparently condoned and covered for her behaviour, by removing said pulpy mess from its fabric hiding place. Also her tale of reading ten books which she borrowed from the library when she was a child and read beneath the landing light in a couple of days, distracted from the excellent collection of Burgess' 'Enderby' novels, I was trying to read. Still the misunderstandings between the male and female cyclists that always seemed to be caused by references to Milton Keynes were worth the price of admission alone.
Upon arriving in Preston, I had one minute to catch the train to Blackpool North. One thing suitcases aren't is light when you are running over a bridge and lifting them down stairs. Once on the train, I slightly relaxed.
Since arriving in Blackpool, I have seen a number of fish and chip restaurants, quite a few tattoo parlours, as though it is compulsory to adorn your body with art, possibly nautical when you travel further north than the Watford Gap. Also seagulls. Proper seagulls with attitude and physiques to make all of the mid-morning pub dwellers ashamed of their bloated, beer enhanced forms and pasty, light deprived faces.
The hotel room is basic yet comfortable. It does what it says on the tin. The admonishing letter given to me with the key card to get into the room was a nice touch, criticising me for spending so much more on my room by booking through an external online website that wasn't them.
Anyhow, time to go out... More later.
I walked along the Promenade, astounded by the assortment of amusement arcades, bed and breakfasts (with vacancies) and restaurants. I particularly enjoyed the signs requesting donations for next year's Illuminations. In places, Blackpool looks tired. The paint is chipping on the decorations outside restaurants that may have gone out of business and fading posters. I was interested to see two or three palm readers scattered around, promising to deduce your future and to help you with any issues you may have. One lady closed early for the day, presumably through lack of business. Lifelines are a niche market when the location of your next penny is your primary concern.
I found a comic shop. It was shut. I admired the people on the Pleasure Beach rides. The intrepid ones on the roller coaster plummeting to the ground. Everything seems really expensive. Although, deals are available if you wish to visit two or more attractions in one hit.
Oddly put off by the fish and chip outlets as they all seemed to offer fish and chips without specifying the fish. Choice seems a given in London (and pretty much everywhere else) but perhaps, one size fits all in Blackpool.
The beach was pretty. The gulls posing elegantly for photos. At one point, whilst walking, I believe I was shat on by my feathery friends. My fate seems fair when you consider how many photos I was taking of them. Revenge is a dish best served anally.
I ended up going to an Indian restaurant which was okay but decidedly more enticing than the McDonald's, Pizza Hut and KFC that I saw as I continued my wanderings.
Still not sure how I feel about Blackpool, but back in my hotel (Ibis Styles) to generally relax. Maybe, my problem is the fact that I don't know how to relax. Shutting down is anathema to my system.
Barry Watt - 19th June 2017.
Afterword.
'Jack played on the tracks. He's not playing anymore' is part of a safety campaign by the British Transport Police to prevent people from going onto the railway tracks. Please see the below link for more details, which also includes the poster I saw on the train:
http://media.btp.police.uk/r/14056/number_of_people_risking_their_lives_on_the_railw
Ibis Styles Hotel in Blackpool is part of the Ibis chain. Reasonably priced accommodation that you can apparently purchase more cheaply through their website:
https://www.accorhotels.com/gb/hotel-9148-ibis-styles-blackpool/index.shtml
The 'Enderby' series of novels by Anthony Burgess consists of 'Inside Mr Enderby', 'Enderby Outside' 'The Clockwork Testament' and 'Enderby's Dark Lady or No End to Enderby'. Available as a collected edition from Penguin. Very funny books. Especially, if you are feeling cynical about the delights of life.
McDonald's, Pizza Hut and KFC are all quite well known and also probably have their own websites but all you need to know is that they provide fast food. Please check them out if you like, lots of people do.
BW.
Photographs.
In the hotel, a threat or a promise?
Rollercoaster on the Pleasure Beach
Odd campaign for what is ostensibly the primary attraction for most visitors to Blackpool.
Faded grandeur.
Restaurant using comic imagery to see its wears. I am not sure whether it opened whilst I was there.
Pensive seagull.
Slightly understated decoration on the Promenade.
BW.
No comments:
Post a Comment