Tale guide

Follow the yellow brick road

I guess that in order for this to make any sense, I will need to provide some background to life in the home country!

One needs to appreciate that while the UK population is 66 million souls as opposed to SA’s 60 million, the former occupies an area that is less than 20% of South Africa’s, so first off, this island is a very busy place!

Secondly, according to the last census, 86% of the population comprises White British, which is reflected in the people, culture and customs that one encounters every day.

Thirdly, the early indications of political unity date back to the 10th century while unity between the Celtic nations and the English dates back to 1536 over which period of time, until today, the islands have been involved in countless wars and upheavals, all of which have had an indelible impact on the UK of today.

Lastly, in modern UK, most parents find it necessary to go out to work in order to pool an income sufficient to finance life and depending on their level of skill, they will, for the majority, be able to live a life that ranges between basic to comfortable.

Which means when the schools breakup for summer, the grandparents end up having to look after the children, at least for a few weeks.

And so it was that Ann and I set off for four days to Blackpool together with young Jonathan and Matthew.

In preparation for the expedition, Ann had selected a ‘Superior, Executive, two-bedroom, (both én suite) apartment on the internet and given the existence of COVID related restrictions, prebooked tickets to a selection of adventures over the four-day excursion.

Blackpool was packed! I have never seen so many people! The golden mile that runs along the beach front from Blackpool Airport in the far south to North Pier in the (yes, of course), the north, was wall to wall people and everyone, save the disabled, walked everywhere they wanted to go, rain or shine.

One could not help but notice the overwhelming number of supersize folks who were out and about in the smallest of kit, seemingly unaware of, or unperturbed with, the visual image they projected.

Given the generation that molded our view of the world, we couldn’t help but be amused with some of the real off-the-wall material we saw amongst this colourful and animated crowd!

Tattoos are evidently the in thing, maybe even a cult of some kind. I’m not talking about a ‘single sexy rose on the left shoulder blade’, kind of tattoo. Oh no! Everywhere you looked, folks were adorned with tattoos from the neck down both legs and both arms and wherever the clothing hung such that you could see a chest or a bare back, on those as well! I mean, a lot of the people, including the supersized numbers, whose roses had turned into stretched brambles over the years since their misspent youth.

And then we encountered those from outer space (must be!). Late forties, early fifties male, wearing a sleeveless vest accentuating previously well-developed muscle, rapidly turning to flab; small boep (tum), tight black pants and long pointed shoes with steel clips under the heels. Totally clean shaven including the head, save for a purple and bright green mohawk mane over the middle of the skull, front to back.

First thoughts, ‘what do you do for a living bro?’ and ‘who employed you?’

Blackpool itself is a big city but the closer to the golden mile and the seafront one gets, particularly along the roads that run inland along the central block between the north and south piers, many of the buildings appear very run down.

The chaos inflicted on small shop owners, local boarding houses cum residential hotels and B&Bs by COVID lockdowns is evident to see everywhere.

In between the buildings that are boarded up you may encounter a little Chinese Takeaway – ‘Lucky Hut’, or a 'purveyor of collectables since 1895' and the occasional small grocery store or Café that are still trading.

Apart from the Chinese, the shops are not run by Portuguese or Greek dealers as one would find in SA. Here they are all English men and women with strong local accents.

English Cafés that are not part of the well-known brands, are owner, manager, operator run.

You go in, take a table, consider the menu, then walk back to the counter and order, and pay the proprietor for your food and drink, before returning to your table and wait to be served. The meal is prepared by the proprietor and/or his wife and is served to the table by their daughter or son.

The grub is basic, freshly prepared and always comes with chips. No fancy haute cuisine here, not even a hint.

The well-known brands are to be found on the golden mile together with brightly coloured trams that run the length of the promenade on overhead cables.

Both are jam packed. Both are cheap. Both are virtually impossible to get into.

Nevertheless, beachfront fast foods are not exactly culinary delights, but based on the long queues, the buxom, tattooed folks love them to bits and will queue for ever to fulfil their desire!

The Superior, Executive, two-bedroom, (both én suite) apartment that looked spaciously comfortable in the photographs, turned out to be a waiting room cum kitchenette and two bedrooms just big enough to fit a double bed in; each with a shower and toilet inside a cupboard; All within 40 sq meters.

In all our travels, I have never been in an ablution the size of a small cupboard.

You think I jest? Well, in order for me to bend over the tiny basin, which was the size of a casserole dish, to wash my face, I had to open the door behind me, so my bum had somewhere to go!

The shower itself was less than half a meter square and it was simply not physically possible for a grown man to bend down while the shower door was closed.

I warned the boys that should they miss the toilet bowl, there was a distinct possibility that they would water the bedroom window.

The first night found us attending the Wizard of Oz pantomime in the North Pier theatre. It was performing in Blackpool as part of a UK tour.

A totally WOW experience, so much so that by the time the second act came on after the interval, both the boys eagerly responded to the Scarecrow’s invite and rushed up onto the stage and participated in a gag with him.

Scarecrow was one of the leading characters of the production and a very funny chap. Absolute hoot every minute.

A visit to Madam Tussauds brought us photo opportunities with Ed Sheeran, HRH the Queen, The Beatles and many more.

While mingling amidst so many people, the task of keeping young boys in hand was no easy one, particularly if you are a seventy-year-old, even though I may be reasonably together, so to speak.

We were doing quite well until we entered the hall of mirrors, a challenge I had not encountered before.

I lost both of them as soon as we entered the maze. I saw a number of Matthews running from one side to the other and attempted to follow. Without any warning I walked into myself. When I looked back, there I was, looking backwards as well, and at least one Matthew was in front of me and another behind me.

I had absolutely no idea how to get myself out of the maze. It was a brief moment of panic quickly quelled by the arrival of 8-year-old Jonathan at my side, highly amused at my somewhat alarmed disposition and offering to help lead me out of there and rescue his brother!

Blackpool Tower

The Tower Circus (established in 1894) is set inside a spectacular venue and the production was to international standards.

Despite the crowds, the queue management was likewise, uncannily slick with virtually no cumbersome holdups.

Then we climbed over 400 feet to the top of the tower and looked out across the sprawling expanse of Blackpool city and down through a glass floor that wouldn’t sit well with acrophobic folk.

Waterpark

On the last day, the rains came down and the gale force winds swept in off the Irish sea.

We went out to brave the 17-degree cold, in jerseys and coats only to find that most folk were happily enjoying themselves in swimsuits and shorts! The English are much tougher than you think!

So, we spent the morning inside Sandcastle Waterpark, the largest indoor waterpark in the UK.

Once again, a first for me on, in, over and under every conceivable water feature imaginable.

Matthew had to be accompanied by an adult in the water and was fitted with a bright yellow life jacket. Unfazed, he fearlessly crashed his way through the water slides and an artificial current that took swimmers around an island under waterfalls and buckets of water that periodically poured their contents onto the heads of those passing underneath.

The game was to see how the two boys could swim away from me as they weaved their way in between everyone else, which was all fine and good, until they reached the forty something lap, or so. Bottom line - after three hours I was exhausted, to be sure.

All along the golden mile there is evidence of a major rebuilding and refurbishing exercise underway. Hotels, cabanas, department stores, night clubs and even the tower itself are undergoing significant structural facelifts.

I would venture to say that by the end of possibly 2023, Blackpool beachfront will be a very different place than it is today.

The standouts were most definitely the professionalism and slickness with which the various theme parks and entertainment venues are being run and secondly, no matter the place; from street stall to arcade centers, restaurants to pubs and including the people you pass in the streets, everyone we came into contact with were warm, welcoming, courteous and friendly.

People certainly know how to enjoy themselves and seemingly have very few inhibitions.

As far as the accommodation is concerned, go big or go home is the best advice.