Sunday 27 September 2009

Blacking it up

Blackpool was...

Incredible, exhausting, busy (in stark contrast to my last visit), fattening (hello fish & chips, doughnuts, hot chocolate with whipped cream), loud, trashy, full of monstrous hen nights and stag dos, expensive, shattering and mildly frightening.

In other words, it was loads of fun. I can't say that I'd want to go there for a romantic holiday but for a day or two, and if you take it for what it is, it's hilarious. Example: a man dressed as a banana queuing up in a newsagents to buy something. Noone batted an eyelid.

Pup in a Cup ftw

We rode on the trams, went on a few rides at the Pleasure Beach (why does that sound like a strip club to me?), I had a Slush Puppy at the age of 27, we bought some rock, saw the illuminations and then battled our way back to the car through hoards of stags, hens and a weeping girl sitting on the pavement (why is there always one weeping girl?).

My companions for the day were my friend from work and her three kids. Just one thing: remind me to never have three kids. Incessant cries of 'Can I have this?', 'Pleeease? Buy me this!', 'I need a wee', 'I'm tired', 'I'm cold', 'Are we nearly there yet?'. I swear, they're nearly as demanding as a boyfriend.

But not quite.