I arrived in
Blackpool in pouring rain and nose to tail traffic, lights and
banners overhead, and the pavements crowded with holidaymakers. There
was a Red Arrows (the real Red Arrows? I think so) display over the
beach so everyone was looking skywards. I could see the Tower up
ahead and a ferris wheel beyond and when I was alongside the Tower I
turned towards a sign to a carpark. Excellent. But it had a height
restriction (Baa is 10ft tall) so I went to another, and that also
had a height restriction - but it had an alternative entrance. It
was crammed with cars and I must have spent 15 minutes trying to
manoeuvre myself into an awkward parking space. Hot, but not
bothered, I set off in the rain for the
Tower, past colourful stalls and shops, arcades and fortunetellers.
I
booked to go to the Eye – the highest part of the Tower, not like
the London Eye. I regret not seeing the Ballroom but it was an
expensive 'step back in time' and I could also have gone to the
Circus, Jungle Jim's Playground and the Dungeons. But the 'all
attractions' ticket would have cost me about £50 - no, less for
concessions – and I didn't want to go that much.
Once
through the turnstile, an arm stopped me walking in front of a
laughing Indian family having their photograph taken. Me next,
(“Would you like your photo taken?” “What does it cost?”
“Nothing, it's just a bit of fun” “All right then”.)
“Look
aaah! as though you're falling off the Tower!” I looked aaah!
“Excellent!
Really, really good” (I was a natural!) “Now look thumbs up,
excited!” I looked very excited.
“Excellent!”
Off
we all went to the little theatre with special glasses for a short,
4-D warm-up fairytale film about a little boy flying round Blackpool
(and, special effects, we got sprayed with water, but I was pretty
damp anyway) and then up to the Eye. We squashed into the
lift, me next to a girl who can't have been more than 15, with a
ladder of cuts up the outside of her arm, the most recent one livid
and painful-looking. She was with four or five others and they all
looked pretty miserable.
Looking through the glass floor |
Despite
the overcast day (the rain had momentarily stopped) we could see up
the beach and down the beach and all around Blackpool, and I could
see Baa 500ft below in the corner of the carpark. When I left the
Tower I took my ticket to get my photos – Durrr! Silly me. It
didn't cost anything to have the pictures taken, but £20 if you
wanted prints. They were very good, but not that
good!
Baa, right in the middle |
I
went back to the carpark at about 5pm, the pavements crowded with
people eating burgers, chips and fudge - we all waded through a sea
of wet cans, plastic bottles and polystyrene food containers. I had a
cup of tea before I could face getting out of my parking space (much
easier getting out!) and setting off for Southport, just above Liverpool. I found a good
campsite called Willowbank and felt quite sheltered in there on one
of the stormiest nights they had had all summer.
1 comment:
poor you I spent some of the most miserable day trips of my childhood in Blackpool in pouring rain
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