Last Wednesday Blackpool Jane seemed to be in Wigan, contemplating jellyfish,
so it was safe for me to head to Fylde for four, possibly five Lancashire ticks.
A year ago I’d have driven to a cheap B & B in Bispham and stayed overnight. These days I’m letting the train provide the pain or whatever their slogan is.
Well, that looks nice and straightforward. Coffee and wee in Manchester, coffee and two wees in Preston, and I can stop off at Kirkham on the way back from St Anne’s to do the late opener at Freckleton.
Except my first two ticks are in north Blackpool (have you BEEN to Blackpool, it’s ENORMOUS).
So I spent the entire leg to Preston wondering if I could stay on the train to the Northern station,
then walk down to the southern station. The fare (it wasn’t cheap) is the same to either terminus.
I thought about posting my question on MumsNet or Blue Moon, but ended up looking on RailUKforums, which is the very definition of the Dark Web.
Well, that’s conclusive then.
As the train passed Leyland I asked the ticket inspector if I could stay on to North Blackpool.
“It’s OK as far as I’m concerned“. What does that even mean.
I then had my phone ticket checked THREE (3) further times before I finally reached freedom, and I felt like a criminal every time.
And then, as I reached down to pick up one of those A3 town maps at the foot of the tourist leaflets.
“STOP THIEF !“
I’ve been rumbled.
“Those maps aren’t for general use” . WTF.
Anyhow, Blackpool really is the Hull of the West these days. This Sainsbury is clearly The Deep.
A 20 minute walk in drizzle to Layton, the highlight being the owl in the rock (top). Didn’t BRAPA have an owl like that once.
Ah, here’s those Ting Tongs that Scott mentioned yesterday. That’s not my name, great single.
Darn. Mrs RM is calling me. Do the pubs next.