Le Pool Noir.
The trains ran like clockwork there and back (30 minutes less than the drive would have been). We missed the match. Shame. The W in Wilkinsons exploded sending burning plastic down onto the hen party lining up to get into Funny Girls. The sun shone nearly all weekend and the sands were warm and inviting. It was good to race around the Pleasure Beach on classic wooden roller coasters with steel wheels covered in grease. And it was good to ride trams with fat Yorkshire folk. The ham-off-the-bone was superb and the barista talented (the 'pool' gone all gastro, my oh my). The evil tranny DJ here made us laugh. She insults everyone as they walk into the pub. But once you’re in you’re ok. “Ooooooh, look! It’s the Myra Hindley fan club!”
Pictures to your right...