When a voluptuous vixen invites a hobbit to Blackpool for a few days I’m hardly going to refuse am I? So preparations made and bag packed off I went on a journey up north to the Las Vegas of England.
The train journey over the Pennines yielded some good scenery and I was soon in Manchester, a city I’ve not visited that much. Piccadilly station in Manchester is a big modern station, easy to navigate and I was soon boarding my train to Blackpool, standing on the platform I did notice like with my visit to Leicester a while back that Manchester is being extensively re-developed too, lots of new buildings going up.
So, train boarded I headed north through the suburbs of Manchester, Bolton and into deeper Lancashire and through Preston and Leyland to name a few.
Blackpool was overcast when I arrived. After being picked up from the station we did some food shopping, freshened up and went out for a walk down the north end of Blackpool promenade, heading past casino’s and hotels all surrounded by the seasonal neon fest of illuminations. The trams were packed, it was very crowded and that old holiday feeling from when I was a kid came back to wrap me in a warm nostalgia to fend off the sea breeze. Despite the big hotels and new casino’s Blackpool remains a working class resort, where families flock to lap up the many attractions and be rapidly parted from their money. As the brightly lit Blackpool tower looms over head the crowds of holiday makers move zombie fashion down the sea front, a myriad of different British accents chattering away. Blackpool is a place where jaded comedians and television stars of yesteryear go to die, a kind of limbo where they are still recognised by name but no longer big enough to make it onto the silver screens. In Blackpool they are kings of their pier end theatre shows that entertain holiday makers every night, it’s their Vegas.
Heading onto the less congested back streets the holiday allure fades a little and the salubrious night life becomes more evident, there’s a vibrant gay scene with many colourful and entertaining bars amongst the more generic pub chain bars. Blackpool has a unique feel of its own, several visages that combine to give it that Sin City feel with a sprinkle of tacky but I can’t argue with its popularity to all walks of life. It is still the UK’s stag or hen weekend destination of choice, though evidently has suffered with the advent of cheap flights abroad. Whilst the sea front and nearby areas cater for the family unit, the back streets are clearly for those seeking more subversive pleasures – I imagine Las Vegas is the same behind the veneer of neon lights too.
That night we had a rather unimpressive Indian meal and did a couple of colourful bars before heading home on one of the many trams shuttling the sea front parade, known as the golden mile.
The next day I had a long standing appointment with central pier to keep. The reason being simple, as a kid my mum took me to Blackpool for many years, she loved the place and it holds many happy memories for me. Now mum isn’t here anymore I felt it a fitting idea to throw some flowers into the sea for her memory, no better place than central pier in the heart of Blackpool. Clutching a spray of roses I said a few words for mum before giving them to the sea, the wind carrying them underneath the pier, my friend was there to give me a big warm hug, as the seagulls glided overhead we turned out backs to the north wind and the sea, I felt emotional but good inside.
That night we had a lovely Thai meal and later quaffed drinks in a quiet Irish bar, my short break was coming to an end. It has been a lovely couple of days, the sea air is always invigorating and the company was excellent.
Heading back the next day as the train crawled into rainy Manchester I noticed that parallel to our track ran an old vintage steam train, and looking down I could see some lovely old barges gracing the canals, there was even a tramp snoozing on a mattress under a viaduct, seemingly oblivious to the world around him – I said to myself, I really must see a bit more of Manchester.
Lastly, thanks go to the lovely person that I spent a fab couple of days with – you know who you are !
The train journey over the Pennines yielded some good scenery and I was soon in Manchester, a city I’ve not visited that much. Piccadilly station in Manchester is a big modern station, easy to navigate and I was soon boarding my train to Blackpool, standing on the platform I did notice like with my visit to Leicester a while back that Manchester is being extensively re-developed too, lots of new buildings going up.
So, train boarded I headed north through the suburbs of Manchester, Bolton and into deeper Lancashire and through Preston and Leyland to name a few.
Blackpool was overcast when I arrived. After being picked up from the station we did some food shopping, freshened up and went out for a walk down the north end of Blackpool promenade, heading past casino’s and hotels all surrounded by the seasonal neon fest of illuminations. The trams were packed, it was very crowded and that old holiday feeling from when I was a kid came back to wrap me in a warm nostalgia to fend off the sea breeze. Despite the big hotels and new casino’s Blackpool remains a working class resort, where families flock to lap up the many attractions and be rapidly parted from their money. As the brightly lit Blackpool tower looms over head the crowds of holiday makers move zombie fashion down the sea front, a myriad of different British accents chattering away. Blackpool is a place where jaded comedians and television stars of yesteryear go to die, a kind of limbo where they are still recognised by name but no longer big enough to make it onto the silver screens. In Blackpool they are kings of their pier end theatre shows that entertain holiday makers every night, it’s their Vegas.
Heading onto the less congested back streets the holiday allure fades a little and the salubrious night life becomes more evident, there’s a vibrant gay scene with many colourful and entertaining bars amongst the more generic pub chain bars. Blackpool has a unique feel of its own, several visages that combine to give it that Sin City feel with a sprinkle of tacky but I can’t argue with its popularity to all walks of life. It is still the UK’s stag or hen weekend destination of choice, though evidently has suffered with the advent of cheap flights abroad. Whilst the sea front and nearby areas cater for the family unit, the back streets are clearly for those seeking more subversive pleasures – I imagine Las Vegas is the same behind the veneer of neon lights too.
That night we had a rather unimpressive Indian meal and did a couple of colourful bars before heading home on one of the many trams shuttling the sea front parade, known as the golden mile.
The next day I had a long standing appointment with central pier to keep. The reason being simple, as a kid my mum took me to Blackpool for many years, she loved the place and it holds many happy memories for me. Now mum isn’t here anymore I felt it a fitting idea to throw some flowers into the sea for her memory, no better place than central pier in the heart of Blackpool. Clutching a spray of roses I said a few words for mum before giving them to the sea, the wind carrying them underneath the pier, my friend was there to give me a big warm hug, as the seagulls glided overhead we turned out backs to the north wind and the sea, I felt emotional but good inside.
That night we had a lovely Thai meal and later quaffed drinks in a quiet Irish bar, my short break was coming to an end. It has been a lovely couple of days, the sea air is always invigorating and the company was excellent.
Heading back the next day as the train crawled into rainy Manchester I noticed that parallel to our track ran an old vintage steam train, and looking down I could see some lovely old barges gracing the canals, there was even a tramp snoozing on a mattress under a viaduct, seemingly oblivious to the world around him – I said to myself, I really must see a bit more of Manchester.
Lastly, thanks go to the lovely person that I spent a fab couple of days with – you know who you are !
Here are some photos I took, a little cropped to fit in better as blogger doesn't like big files!
View from central Pier
A tram
The Golden Mile
Sharks !
3 comments:
sweet.
I have a love/hate relationship with Blackpool. You've described the place brilliantly. My main gripe is a lack of restaurants - good, bad or otherwise. I'm wondering if we ate in the same Indian a couple of years back. It was the only place we could find.
You're right em's, Blackpool is not the centre of fine cuisine... unless you adore burger bars, kebabs and chip shops!
We spent ages finding an Indian that was open, when we did the food was a bit bland and not really worth the money. The Thai however was very good, lovely food and service.
You'd think Blackpool would have more restuarants as it is a fairly big place, though I did see plenty of Italian places.
Post a Comment