Blackpool Beckons

It’s half term for Heir no.1 and I have Thursday and Friday off work. The plan is to visit Blackpool on one of those days. For the uninitiated Blackpool is a traditional seaside resort town. As such it is tacky with a capital T. Everything about it screams cheap and nasty. The “Golden Mile” as the Promenade is known, feels more like gold plate – and the gold rubbed off a long time ago. All the shops along the way sell tat, stuff that you, and no-one you know, would ever really want. Rubbish festoons the pavements, stag and hen parties throng the streets on the weekend and the smell of old chip fat hangs in the air. Accommodation is cheap and plentiful, thousands of Bed and Breakfast establishments will provide just that for £15/night. The beach itself has had numerous citations for effluent and rubbish being strewn along it’s length. So why visit such a hell hole? Because to children Blackpool is magic. I remember as a child visiting, and I don’t recall the rubbish, the tackiness, the terrible beach. The first sight of Blackpool Tower, a poor impersonation of the Eiffel Tower granted, meant that excitement wasn’t far away.

All I remember is the magic of bright lights, loud noises, donkey rides on the beach, and of course the Pleasure Beach. Every year our school used to organise a trip to the Pleasure Beach. A coach full of hyperactive teenagers desperate to ride on the big rides. The Revolution, the first ride in this country to loop the loop (yes I’m that old!). I can now relive all this magic through the Heirs. Within the Pleasure Beach there is an area for smaller children, Beaver Creek (I’m not making it up, honest). Heir no.1 has slowly started evolving from the roundabouts and tame rides into partaking of the more thrilling mini rides. He seemed almost addicted to the mini roller coaster last year, it’s a traditional wooden type of coaster. The only problem with it is that he wants me to accompany him, and this ride was not designed with people over six feet tall in mind! This year Heir no.2 will undoubtedly be far more aware and interested too, and will have some magical facial expressions to wear upon seeing all these sights. Heir no.1 will be checking his height against the “You must be this tall to ride me” signs. Last year he was just too short to take the first step up the ladder of exciting rides, but it will be another year at least until he is ready for “The Big One”. As a lover of these rides, and with a wife who abhors them, I can’t wait until we can get on them together. After a tiring afternoon on the Pleasure Beach, as the light starts to fade and we’ve consumed our obligatory freshly cooked doughnuts, the illuminations will start to come on.

Two tired children in the back, failing light and a slow journey along the front to view the illuminations should make for a very quiet journey home.

Blackpool can still conjure some magic, especially for little ones