After a 2 hour journey, me and Paul arrived in “The Vegas of the North”, desperate to get out and stretch our legs. This didn’t happen for another 45 minutes, apparently everybody had the same idea, and finding a parking space was like finding a needle in a haystack!
Eventually we found a space and headed off to discover the town. Strolling through the shopping centre and into the lift…Crash..Laughter..Pain! In my desperate attempts to go exploring, I didn’t realise the lift door had already decided to close, body slamming me and causing me and Paul to burst out laughing and the poor lady in the lift trying to hide her laughter behind her hand.
So, where to go first? Outside on the street, pirates walk from bar to bar, girls dressed up as pink ladies discuss where to go next and a group of sailors make themselves heard as they come singing round the corner. Only in Blackpool is this normal behaviour at three in the afternoon.
We wander onto the pier, screams of joy and the mechanical whirring of the rides in the air. We buy our tokens and climb inside the carriage of the big wheel.
“I don’t like this!” Paul tells me all of a sudden, “I’m scared of heights.” This is maybe not the best time to let me know this, as the wheel rotates and we rise up in to the sky, he sits dead still as I take in the view. However, as the wind starts to rock the carriage slightly, I start to regret it myself.
Eventually we found a space and headed off to discover the town. Strolling through the shopping centre and into the lift…Crash..Laughter..Pain! In my desperate attempts to go exploring, I didn’t realise the lift door had already decided to close, body slamming me and causing me and Paul to burst out laughing and the poor lady in the lift trying to hide her laughter behind her hand.
So, where to go first? Outside on the street, pirates walk from bar to bar, girls dressed up as pink ladies discuss where to go next and a group of sailors make themselves heard as they come singing round the corner. Only in Blackpool is this normal behaviour at three in the afternoon.
We wander onto the pier, screams of joy and the mechanical whirring of the rides in the air. We buy our tokens and climb inside the carriage of the big wheel.
“I don’t like this!” Paul tells me all of a sudden, “I’m scared of heights.” This is maybe not the best time to let me know this, as the wheel rotates and we rise up in to the sky, he sits dead still as I take in the view. However, as the wind starts to rock the carriage slightly, I start to regret it myself.
Back on safe ground, we take a walk…a long walk…the longest walk I’ve ever taken in my life to the south shore, towards the Pleasure Beach. We hear a bell ring and realise if we don’t move quickly, we will be hit by a tram. Along the way, the pavements are crowded, families walk alongside men in the traditional uniform of the stag parties (t-shirts with nicknames like Salsa Simon), fish and chip shops line the street and I wonder, do they eat anything else here?
As we finally reach the Pleasure Beach, the rides rise up; whooshing past, reminding me of the last time I was here with my family.
My dad and I were strapped into the tango ice blast, one of those horrible rides that makes your stomach jump up into your mouth and your eyes stream tears. As we dropped at a ridiculous speed, my dad, knuckles white from gripping the safety harness, screams “I want my mum!” I’m not going through that again!
Me and Paul wonder off to the South Shore pier to play on the amusements. What is it about those damn machines that makes you think if you just put one more pound in you’ll win the soft toy you’ve been trying so desperately to grab? Eventually, our enthusiasm pays off, and Paul grabs a sweet little grey teddy bear for me, it may have been a lot cheaper to buy one from a shop, but where is the excitement in that eh?
All of a sudden, it seems even brighter. Turning around, I see that the street is lit up with the famous Blackpool Illuminations, all around us, everything looks so pretty. Coming along the tram line is a train, covered in lights, the disco tram! Again, typically Blackpool.
We decide to wander back towards town, have a quick stroll past the fountain and try to find the car. Hmm, the shopping centre is locked; we’ll have to go round the back. Only the back seems to be another 3 mile walk! But we walk any way; didn’t we pass that a minute a go? Oh my god if we have to turn left here…yep that’s where we just came from, oh god we are back where we started, we could have walked five steps but no we took the long way. It isn’t an adventure if me and Paul don’t get lost; it’s all part of the fun.
So finally, back to car, sit down and rest. We came here looking for culture, but the thing is, Blackpool’s culture is the tacky, kiss me quick bold and over the top. It wouldn’t be Blackpool otherwise. It is the way it is and that’s the best thing about it.
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