I spent the past few nights at Heyfield, which is a delightful (Emmerdale-like) village on the north Derbyshire border, near New Mills. With all the building in the centre of the village made from the same stone, the village feels really ‘Northern’ and is a delight to the eyes.
After saying farewell to my family I headed through Manchester to see what had changed. I make this journey every five to six years and its unbelieveable how a city can change so much within a few years. Manchester seems as thought its constantly evolving. Leaving the city center and riding through Salford I saw a certain football stadium – which meant a quick stop as it was definitely worth a picture.
Heading out of the city I headed over to Liverpool as I was curious about the new waterfront developments, and in trying to find a car-park near the Liver Building I nearly ended up on the ferry to the Isles of Man. Oops… After a quick coffee from my flask but nor being able to find a secure car park I headed out of the city and followed the coast road north to Southport. As a boy I went to Southport a few times and really couldn’t remember much about it, so I wanted to see if it could re-kindle any memories.
Arriving in Southport I had a ride around and the only thing that I could vaguely remember was the Victorian esplanades in the city center. And they’re still there. Its a lovely center, and thankfully Southport has resisted the temptation to have a single dominant shopping-mall type center, which means there are still lots of individual shops, especially with the Victorian esplanades.
Stopping at Southport I sat on the sea-front for a while marvelling at the view and the glass cafe at the end of the pier. I wanted to go to the end of the pier for something to eat and drink but I didn’t want to leave my loaded bike, so after another daydream or two I headed north to Preston and then to Blackpool.
Blackpool is a strange place. The few times I’ve been, you arrive with a strange sense of excitement, and maybe foreboding – as you never know what to expect. Coming into Blackpool you start to pass the many blcks of apartments, and then the hotels and guest houses which have the most fanciful names, but you know deep down the the description is never going to meet the reality.
And then you pass the pleasure beach, with its big helter skelter – which one day I want to ride – and then the small shops, selling their trinkets, sticks of Blackpool rock – and of course ‘Kiss me Quick’ hats. And then you see the occasional horse and buggy, with their passengers either eating candy-floss or trying to look excited.
Because the nearest campsite was quite far out of the town I opted to spend the night in a B&B. I think B&B’s in Blackpool have their own kind of ambience, especially when it comes to anaglipta wallpaper, mock tudor beams, tartan carpets and mis-matched furniture. I found my B&B, got the bike locked and covered, and then prepared for the evening.
I was in Blackpool to meet an old and very dear friend for the evening to catch-up. Sometimes life can get in the way of friendships, and sometimes we lack the courage to maintain a friendship, or even do the right thing. I’m just so glad that our paths did eventually cross and that we’re friends again. Its amazing how good you can feel after trying to make a wrong into a right. We cannot change history, but thankfully we can change ourselves because of our past.
