Heading South
Two entire weeks of leave ahead and we're spending the first week in north. Devon in a rented cottage near . Of course the journey south gives me my usual chance to eavesdrop on dozens of other radio stations as we hurtle from one transmission area to the next. We have an overnight stay in Blackpool to break up the journey and, as we arrive on the seafront, Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Radio Lancashire is providing ball-by-ball commentary of a country cricket match between Lancashire and Yorkshire. You see how radio can add a touch of local colour to a holiday?
Blackpool is a strange place. When I was growing up in Glasgow, just about every other family spent the September weekend in Blackpool and came back with fantastic descriptions of the trams, the illuminations and the various fun-fair rides. I could only imagine it. Until about ten years ago, that is, when Mrz Z and I were returning from a wedding down south and decided to call in at Blackpool for a look-see. We walked up a street full of bed & breakfast places and chose one at random. I remember the landlord - a Fred West lookalike - congratulating us on our choice and boasting that he was one of the few proprietors who allowed people to eat fish suppers in the bedrooms. This, you understand, was supposed to be a good thing.
So tonight we took the children for a walk along the pier, ignored the obvious temptations of the hot-dogs stalls and had a ride in the dodgems. This was a bit pathetic because there were no other thrill-seekers and I had to take one car while the Zedettes shared another. I chased them around the circuit for what seemed like a couple of decades and then the attendant took pity on us and gave us an extra ride for free.
Next morning I was back at the wheel of the real car, heading down the M6, then onto the M5 and then north across country through Barnstaple. It all took a little longer that we had estimated and we had just enough time to dump our bags in the cottage, note with a thwack that the roofbeams are very low, and then head back out in search of a place to eat.
We found a local inn called The Hoops which had the same low-ceiling charm as our cottage. I'm destined to spend the rest of this week with concussion.
