As the cold wind swept in for the long weekend, we boarded a train for Blackpool on the western coast in northern England. We had constantly been met with stifled laughter and "why?!" when speaking to colleagues about our imminent trip up 'noorf''" - apparently a true British seaside town that had lost it's splendour - but we had a jolly good trip!
The sun was shining as we pulled in and after a quick stop at our seafront B&B, we headed for the first of three piers along the massive sandy seafront. The northern pier allowed us our much awaited fish n chip lunch, summer 60's music bleating from speakers all the way down and a fabulous 'sun lounge' pub - to which we would later return to while away the hours with our books, cider and sunshine! Enclosed in a glazed ring, but with an open roof, it was as if it were a deck on a cruise ship attached to the pub. There were numerous sun chairs, complete with shirtless guys soaking up the rays and Blackpool seaside images with which to get your photo taken in front of.
Pier two bought the fun of the ferris wheel with great views of the city - the Pleasure Beach theme park, the infamous tower and even the local football ground. On route to pier three, we were disappointed by some very stale donuts but enjoyed viewing the extreme bungy and thrill rides that were taking off from the pier from the safety of the ground.
It must be noted that Blackpool is a stag and hen night fantasy. Seafront clubs line the promenade from one end to the other, blaring catchy tunes from midday long in the night. Every other shop sells the obligatory Blackpool rock, hen night fancy dress options or chips and 'gray vey'.
With plenty of tourist attractions including a massive water park, theme park and Madame Tussaudeesque shows, we could have enjoyed another day if the weather was good but decided to head on to visit Liverpool while in the general vicinity the next day.
Booze Britain, hen parties and orange people; suffice it to say, Blackpool is not exactly the cultural hub of the United Kingdom.
A holiday Mecca for the British working class, Blackpool is a poor man’s Brighton on steroids. Not as run down as Torquay and about 100 times more popular, it’s the home of not one but three piers, the iconic Blackpool Tower and a plucky little football team that was relegated in last season’s Premiere League.
Now, it’s easy to dismiss Blackpool as a crass and tasteless seaside town, and it is these things and worse – I saw an empty pregnancy test box down by the beach, for example – but it does have a certain charm. I mean, surely you could never be bored in Blackpool?
As well as hundreds of pubs and clubs, there’s a theme park, a water park, mini golf, fairground attractions on all three piers and, of course, a long sandy beach. It’s popular too; as busy as it was the windy weekend that we were there at the ass end of summer, Blackpool must get really busy during the peak season.
When we weren’t wandering along the town’s many piers, we were sitting on deckchairs along one of them. It’s hard to describe, but at the tip of the northern-most pier there was a pub with a sheltered area outside where people – many of them shirtless – could sunbathe and sit on deckchairs.
That’s Blackpool in a nutshell, right there. It’s a place where track pants will always be in fashion and Brits can have a beach holiday without having to leave the comforts of their own country.
For Blackpool pics click here
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