Category Archives: blackpool

You couldn’t make it up!


Out with Douggie the doggie on an exceptionally early walk this morning, I was chatting to a couple of chaps who told me  about a man who decided to go to Blackpool with £26,00 (or £35,00 depending on which paper you read) in a chocolate tin which was then stolen while the owner played on an arcade machine.

The thieves  tried to sell the tin for a fiver to passers by, not realising what was actually inside it. Eventually, not being able to flog the chocs, they decided to eat the them, opened the tin and discovered the cash, £6000 of which was immediately picked up by a gust of wind and scattered along the prom creating a riot as people scrambled to pick it up.  There’s more….

The story is here if you want to read the whole debacle for yourself.

What I really I want to know is how someone stupid enough to carry  that amount of money round in a biscuit tin, and leave it on the floor while he played arcade machines,  has been clever enough to amass it in the first place.

The whole story is just so wrong on so many levels I’m not altogether sure it isn’t a late April Fool’s joke.

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Bid me discourse and I will enchant thine ear


A small amount of kudos to you if you know where the words in the title come from before you read this post. If you don’t, the story kind of gives it away so no kudos at all in that case.

Grim, ‘orrible, windy and cold  weather greeted us again yesterday morning. It’s getting on my nerves now. I want snow or sunshine or fog, anything in fact but this sodding awful wet and windy greyness.

Boofuls, sensing my mood, suggested that we have a ride out to Blackpool and spend a few hours in the tower ballroom. We haven’t danced at all since our teacher was taken ill, it just doesn’t seem right somehow but I’m certain that he’d want us to dance. After all, he built his whole life around it.

So wearing a peculiar assortment of clothing, we set off to Blackpool. Warm coat,boots, thick cardigan against the cold of the journey, light cardigan in case it was a bit cool in the ballroom and a light, floaty dress to dance in as well as the obligatory sparkly jewellery.

We arrived at the ballroom and picked our spot. A table right on the edge of the dance floor near the mighty wurtlizer. As normal there was a good array of people. Daytrippers dancing in trainers and jeans, good amateurs, professionals practising, you can always spot them even before they start to dance, they always wear black and the men always have a waistcoat on. Yesterday there was a young couple who were amazing to watch, they’ll be going far, I think. There was a  little, elderly man dancing on his own, hopping and jumping round the floor to a quickstep with his invisible partner. And there was us.

That’s what I like about Blackpool Tower ballroom, anyone of any age and ability can take to the floor and no one bats an eyelid.

Having bagged our spot we started to strip off the boots, coats, scarves, cardigans and other outdoor paraphernalia and got the dance shoes on. Within two minutes we were quickly putting the cardigans and scarves back on as it was absolutely perishing. I think the boiler must have gone or it was a ploy on the part of the management to keep people buying hot drinks. People were dancing in fleeces!  If they didn’t actually dance in their fleeces and scarves they put them back on as soon as they sat down and then hugged their hot drinks to try and keep warm.

We spent a lovely three hours in there, waltzing, tangoing, chachachaing, jiving and rumbaing our way through the afternoon. The only dance we didn’t get to do was the foxtrot. We waited and waited for a foxtrot but eventually decided that we had to leave or risk a parking fine. As miuch as I love a foxtrot, I don’t love it fifty quids worth. As soon as we were all togged up for outside again on went a foxtrot. Dagnabbit!

Of course, being in Blackpool we had to go to Harry Ramsden’s for his famous fish, chips and mushy peas – and it didn’t disappoint. All I can say about that is: nomnomnomnomnom.

Well done, Boofuls. Boredom strop successfully averted, we had a lovely day out. Shame about the cold.

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This is my 1000th post apparently. In honour of the occasion  and to start the new year I will be posting my very first post  as post 1001 tomorrow. Ooh, bet you can’t wait for that.

Winter Blues


Winter greys, more like. The lovely snow went as quickly as it came leaving everything behind  in varying shades of grey. The sky is a particularly grim shade of grey this morning.  The wind is howling round the house trying to find a way in through the ill fitting windows and doors. I know that wind doesn’t have a colour but if it did, this one would be grey.

Drab, drab, drab, drab drab, I hate it.

To cheer me up, here’s a photo from last week:

snowy gate

Boofuls and me are doing an engagement shoot in Blackpool today. I think I’ll look for a nice, bright grafitti-ed wall to use as a backdrop and get a bit of colour going on.

The plan after the shoot is to spend a bit of time just chillin’, Boofuls has booked us a room at one of the nicer hotels. We might go to the Tower for a bit of dancing or we might go to the theatre, or we might even do both.

I’ve downloaded the Worpress app for my phone so I can even keep you updated live, as the action is happening.  Or you know what? I might not. Let’s se how the mood takes us.

Have a nice Saturday.

Bid me discourse and I will enchant thine ear


Blackpool here we come (again).

Last day of the Christmas holiday arrived. Sigh.

Just in the nick of time if you ask me. I was about to into  the ‘why does no one but me ever DO anything in this place’ rant  when Bob, seeing my less than smiling face, as I loaded the dishwasher for the umpteenth time, suggested that we go to the Tower Ballroom for the day.

Oh! That was unexpected.  My plan for the day had been to go the the recycling centre and get rid of all the evidence  empties.  That, and clean the bathroom etc etc, you know the format.

A quick change of clothes later I grabbed the dance shoes and off we jolly well went.

It was surprisingly quiet at the tower, the girl at the ticket counter seemed surprised we didn’t want to go into the circus.  Mooky the clown?  No thanks.

The usual mix of holiday makers, day trippers, amateur and serious/competitor dancers were all there.  You can always spot the latter, they are the ones either dressed all in black or, even worse than that, the ones in sports wear with a towel round their necks, refusing to make eye contact with anyone as they walked on and off the floor like Russian olympic athletes, barking instructions at each other and  scowling at any day tripper who dares to cross their ‘ever so talented’ paths.  They’re the ones who always think they’re better than they are, half the time they’d look better sat down.

Mind you, one ‘all in black’ couple were brilliant!!!  I very nearly swooned when I saw their quickstep. It was fabulous, I can only aspire and watch in admiration. Not only that but they were gracious and friendly to everyone.  That’s more like it. It’s only dancing for God’s sake, it’s meant to be fun.

There was a very glam old couple in the ballroom, word reached us that they had just celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary and had been dancing at the tower all their married lives.  They were 90 and 92 and still putting  most of the younger couples to shame (us included) both on the dance floor and in the sartorial elegance stakes.

Here  is ‘The Mighty Wurlitzer’  rising up from the stage. Always reminds me of Monty Python when I see it.  When I realised it was time for the organs to swap over (that sounds ever so slightly rude) I dashed up into the balcony so I could get a pic of one organ moving back out the way while the Wurltizer rose up from the floor.  Such was my haste that I misjudged the height of the last step and very nearly dived head first over the balcony and onto the stage, much to the amusement of a couple seated nearby. God! There’s me nearly killed and those two were laughing their socks off. I suppose it was quite funny to watch me teetering on the brink, arms waving wildly trying to regain my balance.

Here’s the ballroom in all it’s glory. The words, ‘ Bid me discourse and I will enchant thine ear’ are written on the banner above the stage where ‘The Mighty Wurlitzer’ is positioned.

If you look closely enough at the picture below you’ll see B, watching bemused as me and the bar staff kept setting the timer on the camera and placing it on the chiller cabinet because it was at exactly the right height to get the image I wanted.

It’s superbly ornate,  they must have used enough gold paint to float a battleship.  It looks Victorian but it isn’t – it was all rebuilt after a fire in ????

We danced our little legs off, we even got to dance a ballroom tango, most unusual in a public ballroom. Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee( that was me being over excited, slightly tempered by the  fact that there was so much sequence dancing).

We stayed until they threw us out and locked the door behind us. On throbbing feet we walked back to the car and on the way we saw this spectacular sunset.

Innit gorgeous?

You’d think that would be enough for one day wouldn’t you but no, B decided that we would treat ourselves to dinner out at our all time favourite restaurant.

Scallops followed by pepper steak.  Yum, yum, yum.

I was kept amused not only y B’s scintillating conversation but by the people on a nearby table.  One of the guests at the birthday party was having a less than spectacular time. Well, that’s how it looked to me. If he was having fun then his brain most definitely forgot to tell his face.

How did I know it was a birthday party? Because I am highly skilled at picking up subtle clues – and because I watched a waiter take a birthday cake over to a gangly and acne’d adolescent who squirmed in his seat looking like he wanted the earth to swallow him up as the whole restaurant sang happy birthday to him.  Poor lad, happy birthday.

New years Day


See, I told you this year was going to be better than last year. It’s got off to a cracking start already.

P & G were off to her Mum’s today for their family get together.  As normal, Twitchy, the dog came out with us for the day. Hhhmm. Where do you take a dog for a day out?  Blackpool!!!!

A nice bracing walk on the beach, just the thing!!  As you can see, the dog had fun.

I’d wanted to take her to the waters edge so she could play in the surf but B wasn’t too keen. “No, she’ll stink and the salt water won’t do her skin any good.” Oh yes, forgot to tell you – the dog’s got eczema!!

So we stayed by the steps at the top end of the beach and Twitchy had a brilliant time. I’m not sure if she’s been on sand before but she clearly liked it, she went barking mad, in fact. (sorry, couldn’t resist).

As we walked under the pier she found a huge puddle to run through she charged up to it….. and then completely disappeared!!

Fook!!

It must have been 4 foot deep. The dog had literally completely disappeared. Panic swept over me like a wave and I was contemplating stripping off down to my grundies to jump in and rescue her.  After what seemed like an age her little head bobbed up and she scrambled up, gasping for air and then jumped out of the puddle only to repeat exactly the same thing 3 seconds later in the next puddle!!

 ‘Get away from the puddles, you daft dog. You’re going to bloody drown.’

  She stood there shocked for a minute, looked at us as if it was our fault, came over and shook herself all over us.  Then charged off down the beach like nothing had happened leaving us practically wetting ourselves with nervous and relieved laughter.

 Oh my God!! I’ve already broken the dog twice, now I’ve nearly drowned her as well.  I’m a crap dog sitter.

Since we were in Blackpool, it had to be done, Harry Ramsden’s for fish and chips.  Ooohhhh, it was gorgeous. The batter on the fish was crispy and light and the fish was to die for. Bob very nearly did die as well when I caught him feeding some to the dog. “Oi, I’ll have that if you don’t want it.”

As we sat on a bench outside the Winter Gardens with our dinner, sharing the odd chip with the dog,  it started to snow a bit.  You’d be amazed how many people stop and chat  or give you a friendly look when you have a dog with you.  Working on the basis that it was getting dark, it was freezing cold, our time was up on the car park and the fact that if it was snowing in Blackpool then we’d likely be knee deep in the stuff again when we got home, we decided it was probably time to go home.

Back home it had snowed a lot, everything looks like it’s been sprinkled with icing sugar, very pretty.  Snow on top of solid ice. Excellent combination for driving. I’m getting more excited about my impending new car by the hour.