Nice people

          Well, what a conundrum,  I don’t think it’s any big secret that in the scale of places I like to visit Blackpool doesn’t climb very high but last weekend there I was again. Hubby had another competition and although I had the perfect excuse to skip the weekend with work being what it is at the moment, when the opportunity arose to join him I took it.


          Most of my problem with Blackpool is that I’m not a “party girl” give me a nice comfy seat and a big mug of coffee instead of high heels and loud music anyday.

          Hubby booked somewhere to stay at the quiet end of the prom and I used the tram to make my way back towards the piers.   On Saturday, my full day to myself in Blackpool, I took the tram to the pleasure beach at the opposite end of the prom intending to wander back with the camera.

          The stop before mine was particularly busy so when I got on the tram it was already crowded. Chivalry isn’t dead but I politely refused the semi-vacated seat offered by a gentleman belonging to a group of cheerful holiday makers, it would seem that standing on a crowded tram somehow made me feel safer than a seat boxed into a corner did – easier to escape I suppose.

          The group started up some banter between themselves and this soon spread to many other passengers too,  making the trip to the far end of the prom light hearted and quite jolly.

          Heading away from the queues at the Pleasure Beach, I pointed the camera here and there for a while and wandered in and out of a few shops, I found the outdoor market, and a little later, the indoor market where I found a quiet spot in a small café for lunch.  I passed the Sealife centre where a young couple and little girl were looking at the price list. I remembered my tram ticket had a £5 off voucher for Sealife so tapped the lady on the shoulder and passed the saving on.

          After a few photos around the North Pier area,  I caught another tram back to the hotel and took a nap until Hubby had finished his sport for the day.

          We had a local pub, “The Gynn“, lined up for our evening meal, it was quite close to the hotel incase Hubby was late, and I quite fancied the carvery on offer all weekend on the menu. Unfortunately,  being the weekend before the holiday season officially started, the carvery was only available on Sunday.

          Hmmn…  Best laid plans and everything, we headed into town to find somewhere else to eat… On a busy Saturday evening in Blackpool.

         The sun goes down behind the sea in Blackpool and although I’d left my camera behind in the hotel for the evening, in favour of a smaller handbag, I did have my phone in my pocket and the birds were putting on a very pretty acrobatic display on the beach.  The two pictures here were taken minutes apart as I was torn between the birds to the right of me and the sun going down to the left but in the end, the little mobile phone did good and I managed to capture both.

          Happy, I hitched my handbag up on my shoulder…  my handbag! …  I’d left it at The Gynn.

          My poor little legs moved the fastest they’ve come to running for a long time as I held onto Hubby’s hand, using his energy to pull me along.  I half listened to his pessimistic (he would say realistic) thoughts as I walked far too fast back in the direction we’d come from.  “What was in my bag?  What was in my purse? Who would I have to notify? What would I have to replace?

          My feet hurt, my knees hurt, my hips hurt, but I kept up the pace without complaining and to be honest my main concern was for my little white thyroid tablet in my purse ready for the morning which has made such a difference to my whole get-up-and-go in general.

          All hot,  bothered and very visibly flustered, I got to the table where we had been sitting.  There was another couple sitting there with their meal.  I looked at the woman, I looked at the chair she was sitting at …  “My bag? I left it… “

          Before I managed to blurt out the rest of my sentence, she smiled,

          “We handed it in behind the bar for you”.

          I breathed.  It hurt.  I’m nowhere near as fit as I should be for my age and my size.

          The lady was half way through a bottle of wine, but I asked the barman what the gentlemen was drinking and paid for another pint for him to collect when he was ready.  Then we headed back towards town at a much slower pace.

           There you have it, all’s well that ends well. A big thank-you to the couple who handed my bag in, and to the Saturday evening staff at The Gynn for keeping it safe.

         My weekend could have so easily been ruined, but instead of the memory of the hustle and bustle, the stag do’s and hen parties, this time I take away from Blackpool the memories of the nice people who saved the day.


          More from before : Beach visits to “Blackpool“.


7 thoughts on “Nice people

  1. Nice people indeed! Great phone pics. Lesson number one… never go anywhere without your camera… lesson number two… you are perfectly fit for your age! You made it back to see the good folk at the pub in good time and to rescue your already rescued handbag! (And to prove Hubby wrong!)

    Now, for more important news!! Happy anniversary… may your blog keep bringing smiles and great sights to us, the lucky folk who visit! Thanks for five years support and five years of great walks and tales from your neck of the woods!

    😉 😀 😛 😀 😉

  2. Pingback: Big dipper | Photographic Memories

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