Was served in Primark by a midget and a stood in line for the cash machine behind a man in full drag earlier this week. Yup. Welcome to Blackpool MoFos!
Wasn’t feeling up for it to be honest despite having booked it months ago, but once we got there I rallied a bit. Ended up with 3rd degree wind burn & a tomato face by the end of the day. God knows what I’d have looked like if I hadn’t had some sunscreen in my tinted moisturizer!
Thought high winds might’ve put the kybosh on it, but youngest childerbeast finally got to ride The Big One. Wasn’t tall enough the first time we went a couple of years ago. Last year she was, but she bottled out. This year she went on without me and went on Infusion and Revolution. Before I know it they’ll be off on adventurous days out like this without their auld Mum.
Convinced I saw the actor/comedian John Thompson in the line for the Ghost Train but it could just have been his doppleganger. After all, I’ve been mistaken for Maxine Peake before now.
There’s something very therapeutic about committing yourself to the mercy of a teenage ride operator running a rollercoaster, which was built in the 1930s out of matchwood and duct tape. Just don’t look too closely at the structure as you fly round and for the love of god keep your hands inside the damn cart!
The Grand National is my favourite by a mile, followed closely by the Wild Mouse. Pretty sure the Final Destination franchise missed a trick there by not using that ride for their coaster catastrophe scene. Go on it and I defy you not to shriek. A tiny bit of wee came out when I was on it. It’s quite tricky to squeeze in those pelvic floor muscles when your arse is actually airborne from your seat and you’re trying to hold onto your daughter!
Tena times. Good times.