As I am sure you all know, my fantastic life leads me to the most glamourous of locations.
And my weekend break-away was, of course, no exception!
Donkeys in the Distance
On Saturday we ventured to the apparently abandoned Blackpool – once the pinnacle of British summer holidays, the epicentre of tat and kitsch, synonymous with candy-floss, donkey rides and the infamous “Kiss Me Quick” hat.
But how the mighty fall. And with such a terrible sense of desperation to simply grasp tightly on to the past, on to the times when things were good.
Poor old Blackpool.
Yet, despite what you might be thinking, I am not here to belittle and deride this once-glorious seaside town, I am here to celebrate it; even in it’s decrepit (but slowly regenerating) form.
Why do I, continuously, visit Blackpool once a year? Yes, there are seasides-a-plenty along our Northern coast, but none such that could possibly lack pretension in the way only Blackpool does.
It is indeed stuck around the year 1989 – the happy days. A whole plethora of tacky merchandise can be purchased from as a little as one whole pound – from bumper-bags of Blackpool Rock to unwittingly vintage-esque tea towels and t-shirts. Then on to seriously questionable tack-o-rama such as “Sugar Willies” (yes, a penis shaped from molten sugar), fake boob t-shirts, princess tiaras and … Gollywogs. Lots and lots of Gollywogs. I even spotted dear old 1930s floozy Bettie Boop, poised sexily next to a little Gollywog tooting on his trumpet.
It’s shocking, horrifying and… unique. Where else is this stuff even applicable anymore? It’s un-PC and ridiculous – pitiful and… admirable.
Not admirable because of the racist-tint or the over-abundance of sexually charged nonsense, but just because even though there seems like there is no future for Blackpool, they just keep on keepin’ on, relentlessly, ignoring fashionable traits of more popular holiday destinations.
It’s like stepping back in time to a period which I am sort of glad has gone, yet a part of me yearns for, as it evokes sweet and carefree memories of my late grandparents and my childhood.
It’s not unusual to hear blasting from the piers, the retro sounds of Bananarama, Bangles or even Rick Astley (entirely without irony, you want a permanent RickRoll, go to Blackpool!) But it’s not tongue-in-cheek, it’s not retro, it’s just that Blackpool seems to be in stasis, unable to move-on with the rest of the country, or for that matter the holiday industry.
I questioned whether Blackpool had “sold out” on my recent trip, as the once desired clientele of happy families and oldies has been pushed aside to cater for what can only be described as gaggles of drunken, idiotic, destructive and rude people, also know as “Hen” and “Stag” parties.
The “Stags” generally opt to dress in women’s attire (think Supergirl, Pink Ladies, Ginger Spice) – modus operandi; get “laid“. They seem to care-not that the primary reason they are there is to celebrate their forth-coming marriage. It is blatant to me that it’s purely an excuse to see some boobs at a topless bar and get-off with a random woman before cementing their obviously precious marriage vows.
And… boy are they rude! Disrespect is like a holiday past-time for these fellas, whether is be pissing all over tram shelters, yelling “MILF!” at innocent mothers carrying children or having midday fights in the middle of the street; It surprises me that these Neanderthals have managed to find anyone to marry in the first place!
The “Hens” are sufficiently as ill-mannered. Glammed-up to the nines in clubbing attire, sporting silken sashes and garish t-shirts exclaiming “Horny Hen”, “Kinky Kookie” and “Still Single (for now!)”, they parade themselves suggestively, swinging Sugar Willies on lanyards around their heads whilst letting out a tribal scream to attract potential mates. There’s most definitely a little less violence on the part of the Hens, however pissing on tram shelters and puking on your shoes is quite acceptable.
I know I might be coming across as real old bore, but hey, I guess I am if it means keeping a slither of my respectability in tact.
You see, this environment produced by hordes of Stags and Hens can be somewhat frightening to more composed visitors to Blackpool, especially on a weekend evening.
But if you can take the time to look beyond the crass carnival that is the face of Blackpool, there are so many interesting little haunts and beautiful buildings to explore in the centre.
A favourite of ours is “The Blue Room“, a reasonably-sized Rock pub and gig venue, a little in to the centre of town. The building stands as an attractive, traditional Victorian space, and inside sports plasma screens advertising up-coming events, a plethora of gig posters and a large range of ales and even a small cocktail bar! (not to mention Jägermeister shots… a little pricey at £2.40 but worth a go!)
The music isn’t quite as, umm… hip as it is Manchester way – but hey that can make a refreshing change! The clientele are young and rockin’, and it seemed to me that there is definitely still a strong Emo / Punk vibe with the youth of Blackpool’s underground, not yet moving on to the whole dancy-hipster crap we are bombarded with in Manchester at this moment.
As it turns out, this pub is owned by another interesting little place called “West Coast Rock Café” and also “The Club Above”. The cafe offers a fantastic range of American / Tex-Mex influenced food; from fancy burgers, stuffed Jalapenos and chilli, to steaks in a Jack Daniel’s sauce, with plenty of veggie options for you non-meat eaters!
Places like West Coast Rock Cafe and the Blue Room act as a much needed diversion from the gaudy madness of mainstream Blackpool; an escape if you will.
Surprisingly to us, there is also a nice and cosy “O’Neil’s” (Irish themed bar) in Blackpool which has for some reason neglected to become part of the party trail despite it being located on one of the main shopping streets (and en route from the train station to the promenade). This makes it a really nice place to chill-out and grab a cheap and cheerful dinner from their £2.49 “A Taste of Ireland” menu. The only problem with O’Neil’s is it’s distinct lack of custom. It can get a little too quiet in there and this is a shame, because it would be a perfect venue for a pleasant, not-too-rowdy friendly meet up, with large wooden tables and a small smoking area (alley way!) at the back of the pub.
And one should not forget Winter Gardens – and it’s awe-inspiring “Galleon Bar”. Furnished entirely to look like the inside of a … Galleon! It really is a sight to behold and it’s so cosy in there, with soft lighting and faux-wooden surroundings!
As for accommodation, well the one thing I would suggest Blackpool do is LOWER THE AVERAGE PRICE OF A DOUBLE ROOM. It often
In the Caravan with Grandad
strikes me as ridiculous that I could fly to Barcelona and stay over 3 nights for the same price it costs to get to Blackpool by train and stay for only 2 nights. The Bed and Breakfasts are plentiful, but most are dubious at best. We always opt for a not-so-ritzy establishment, but one where it is clear that they do not purposefully cater for the Stags and the Hens.
On arriving on Saturday we had a vague idea of where we were going to stay, but when approaching we noticed a massive group of shaven-headed, yelling 18 – 25 year old fellas leaving the B & B, so we decided to move on and look elsewhere! I am so glad we did, as we randomly stumbled upon a presentable looking place called “The Aberford Hotel“.
I ring the door bell and we are met by a jolly-faced man who welcomed us right in and informed us there was a room available, and even asked if we wanted to “look before we book(ed)”.
The rooms were by no means fancy-schmancy, but definitely to a much higher standard than previous accommodation we have stayed in. Pretty floral curtains and linen, our own shower and toilet, TV, hair dryer, a few hospitality gifts and everything was impeccably clean (very important!). The rooms were also noticeably larger than previous hotels we’d stayed in, not having to stumble over our luggage after coming home somewhat liquored-up! 
The proprietors of the Aberford are Neil and Deborah Winkley, of whom we only managed to meet Neil. Such a friendly man, we felt at ease straight away, and even moreso when we discovered that his son lives around the corner from us in Manchester! The discussion continued until I realised that Neil was in fact from Wythenshawe originally, like myself, and had lived in Northenden (where my parents currently reside) and he’d been a copper in Moss Side! Madness!
I have to admit, you can meet some really freaky hoteliers in the Blackpool area, but Neil definitely wasn’t one them! Entirely normal, in a nice way 
As for non-food / drink related past-times, Blackpool now actually offers quite a varied shopping experience, you can savour the kitsch in the (ever sadly decreasing) indoor tat-markets, or you can visit the new “Houndshill” shopping precinct, not to forget the small flourish of charity shops in the centre of town.
You also have the Sealife Centre, which has seen slightly better days, but still has oodles of fish and crustaceans to ogle at. The “Pleasure
Pleasure Beach with Dad
Beach” with all your favourite rides and it’s retro-clad landscape. Like gambling?! Lose £3 the slow way with the 2p “Penny Pushers” in the ridiculously camp “Coral Island”. Get your fortune read by one of the Petulengro family, whom have predicted for such greats as Russ Abbot and Brian Conley…
Some things I would avoid would be “Ripley’s Believe It or Not” – They were right, I couldn’t quite believe how crap it was. Shoddy, at best.
As for “Louis Tussaud’s Wax Works” (Louis being the great-grandson of the famous Madame Marie) – we’ve never actually been in, but if the spinning Jonny Depp in the window is anything to go by, it looks kind of lame to be honest.
Not to mention that we noticed that Superman (placed aloft the giant building over-looking the sea-front), had lost his cape, leaving him looking more perplexed and dishevelled than heroic, with his hands resting on his hips.
At this moment in time Blackpool council is desperately trying to re-vamp the shoreline, fitting new clean looking steps and curved sea-walls, plenty of sculptures and town centre pieces with a modern twist. I particularly liked the streets lamps down the centre of the town, projecting colourful swirls of moving light on to the floor as you walked under them, giving the place a slightly more cosmopolitan and even European feel.
However the place is still very much under construction, and it seemed quite ludicrous that many tourists were eating outside street-cafes amidst building debris, metal fences and small cranes perched precariously close by. Also because the re-vamp of the shoreline is not yet finished, you may find yourself stranded 1/2 of a mile along the beach with absolutely no way to get back up to the road due to the unfinished stairs … having to back-turn to find an exit.
I really feel that one of the main reasons Blackpool fell in with the wrong crowd is because young, discerning people, much like myself, have opted for holidays further afield, and quite understandably so; it can work out much cheaper to get a flight over to mainland Europe than to get a train, the weather is better, the places are cleaner and you can savour a new culture completely different from our own.
So, struggling with all these new holiday destinations, and probably the loss of an older generation for whom going to Blackpool on holiday
My nanna in the early 1970s
was their only option, Blackpool has grasped at any custom it can get to keep the place reasonably alive.
I am writing this though to perhaps plant a seed of thought in your minds’ to consider Blackpool again, even only for a day trip. As mentioned previously it is very much under construction, which is a really wonderful and positive thing, but it also means there is a chance that Blackpool will eventually become a homogenised seaside destination where all those things we love to hate will disappear, the demolition of the faded 1950s glory will begin… and then stories of “Kiss Me Quick” hats, donkey rides and 2p coin pushes will become nothing but an antiquated fable.
……
All the photos above are from my previous visits to Blackpool as a child, and below, there are some more! 
And lastly, a photo from our last visit as grown-ups!
Enjoying a lolly with mum
The Derby Racer
King Kong on the Tower
Alice in Wonderland
Alice in Wonderland 2
All dads think they're funny
Plastic Cowgirl
Enjoying sandwiches on the beach
Damn clowns!
Serendipitous
WE LOVE BLACKPOOL!
