January 2026. Cleveleys. Blackpool.
Dashing from the Beer Shed, I made the Fisherman’s Walk tram stop with 20 seconds to spare. Or actually, 20 minutes, as the trams north seemed to head into Fleetwood and disappear. “Trams every 10 minutes” said the signs, the evidence of our own eyes that Friday rather different.
As the youngest passenger I was volunteered to walk up the tram line to see if it had popped in the Spoons for a pint of Ruddles, and that tactic worked as it whizzed round the corner past the Pounstretcher at that exact moment.
20 minutes later in Cleveleys I was almost tempted by the artisanal cafe quarter,
with its tempting ham egg and chips,
but remembered I’d only had my Spoons breakfast 2 hours earlier.
2 hours earlier I’d walked the length of Cleveleys main drag, saddened at the continued closure of one of the Sam Smiths classics,
the Victoria Hotel’s pub sign a masterpiece.
Compare and contrast with the horror that is the Tramway, aptly on a day of horror on the actual trams.
But life goes on, and my GBG newbie Backstage converts a cycle shop into a rock’n’roll bar, and who needs cycles when there’s such an efficient public transport network ?
Bright and shiny,
replacing beer barrels with amplifiers and mod scooters for your table decoration,
this is definitely a pub for the Blackpool Jane more than the Stafford Paul, and I’m glad to live in a world that caters for both.
Jane found Backstage heaving a year ago, I was first in last week, but Fell’s Stout was, again, pretty perfect.
The owners sits in a big Union Jack sofa with his dog, booking bands, and Kevin Rowland sings.
For a moment, Life is Sweet. And then it’s back to the tram.
retiredmartin 