A Bit Better than Bognor

At last I can report that I have visited Blackpool.

For those who are not familiar with the place, which cannot be many at all globally, it is a seaside town on the west coast of England and best known for its landmark red-oxide 518 foot tall tower, many miles of promenade fronted by hotels, guest houses, Bed and Breakfast establishments, a tram, entertainment and leisure venues and, oh yes, a sandy beach which at low ride appears to go to infinity.

All of these attributes of Blackpool feel very familiar from having seen old black and white newsreels, the broadcasting of dance and variety shows from The Tower Ballroom and the Winter Gardens, adverts and the occasional depiction of the town and its attractions in press and other media.

I cannot honestly say why, it has taken until my sixth decade to make the trip to the place.

I have of course been to many of the traditional seaside resorts around the coast of Britain from Newquay (where my cousins lived) to Brighton, Cromer to Skegness, Scarborough to Bamburgh, Nairn to Arisaig.

It is said that everyone in this country lives within 60 miles of the coast and I do believe that we, as a nation, have an affinity for the sights, sounds and smells of the ocean. It must be down to our living on an island and the need to frequently stand on a cliff or shoreline and make sure that nothing has changed in that respect. Unfortunately we have become insular as a consequence which is not always a good thing.

The idea of Blackpool has always, to me, embodied all of the excesses of a coastal resort.

That in the same measure has been the reason for its popularity and success over the last couple of centuries.

It's whole being was born out of the demands of a largely working class population for somewhere to escape to from the mundane and drab aspects of a working life that represented a cradle to grave existence.

Those old grainy monotone images of yesteryear show full suited and hatted men and smart, formally dressed womenfolk and strangely, not many children at all , gawping at the camera whilst sat in the Promenade shelters or in lines of deckchairs on the sand with a cup of tea in their hand. When not enjoying seemingly endless summer days the same crowds would frequent the theatres to see variety acts amongst them the current stars and of course the old favourite crooners, comedians and magicians.

In between the entertainment their accommodation would be in the form of a boarding house run on puritanical lines by landladies or in large hotels run by national chains.

Day trippers came by train and charabanc from the industrial cities and areas of the North West and beyond to sample the thrills and spills of funfair rides, amusement arcades, the trolley bus and a ride on a donkey. Food always played an important part for vacationers from fish and chips to winkles and waffles, ice cream sundaes to candy floss. All washed down of course by gallons of tea or beer.

The trend for holidaying abroad from the 1970's onwards did dent the income streams of Blackpool hoteliers and entrepreneurs. A change in the tastes and sensitivity of the holidaying public also impacted- call it a sort of snobbery which largely contributed to the demise of  the "kiss me quick", "Knees up" and knotted handkerchief on the head type of holiday experience. Clever re-invention of the image of Blackpool and more recent regeneration saw an influx of party animals for Stag and Hen weekends, themed festivals for Elvis and 60's enthusiasts and the development of a major modern Pleasure Beach complex with a very scary rollercoaster amongst more traditional seaside rides to take as well as put on the holiday pounds.

One constant through all of the changes has been the autumn Illuminations which still draw huge crowds of visitors.

I admit that I have known all of the above for most of my years. Blackpool, just in its name, stands for a typically British seaside experience.

I have glimpsed the distinctive Tower (incidentally just under half the height of the Eiffel Tower in Paris) a few times from the motorway on the way to the Lake District or Scotland but this has never aroused any curiosity in me to actually go there. Perhaps I am a seaside snob after all. Yes, Scarborough has it all.

I confess now that I did get to Blackpool yesterday but spent only about 40 minutes there in dropping off and picking up a friend who was attending a dance conference at The Winter Gardens.

That was enough time to be reassured that Blackpool is alive and kicking.