Easter weekend in sunny Blackpool. I received 8 Easter eggs. 6 from Darren (£3.50 for 3 at Sainsbury’s), 1 from Mum and Dad (it came with 7 creme eggs) and 1 from friends (Maltesers) in payment for looking after their evil rabbit. All eggs were melted down and spread over the thighs of Wigan rugby squad before they clamped their legs around my neck. Then I woke up.
We took Mum and Dad to The Cottage for lunch on Saturday and they had the OAP special (cod, chips, cup of tea and a hanky up the sleeve) and then forced them to play crazy golf in a gale (I won despite having chocolate smeared all around my mouth). At Saint Annes Pier (my Mums fave pier cos it’s her name – Anne, not Pier) I spent £7 in 2p pieces on a machine that pushes 2p pieces over the edge of a shelf where they drop into a tray where you can collect them and put them back into the machine until you have none left. Huge fun. We then visited the Lifeboat museum and marvelled at how shiny the volunteers keep the lifeboat (but not the tractor that tows it into the waves). In the giftshop I resisted the urge to buy a plastic shark head on a stick (it ‘talks’ when you pull the ‘trigger’) and I felt guilty that I hadn’t kept a few 2p pieces for the lifeboat charity money-box near the exit. On the way home Darren discovered that if he cranked up the heating in the car my Mum and Dad would fall asleep within 5 minutes. We tried this back at the house and it worked there too!
Doctor Who was great and I have started a campaign for the nurses at my local hospital to wear cat masks while they go about their nursing duties. These cat-nurses featured in an erotic nightmare I enjoyed later that night. They were administering melted chocolate easter eggs via a drip plugged directly into my expanding tummy. Yummy.
While my Mum and Dad slept next to the gas fire Darren and I drove to Preston to see Embrace play at the Guildhall. What a strange venue, like a mini stadium or a huge modern church. The support act were Morning Runner and they sounded like Coldplay getting into bed with Keane (this can be a good or a bad thing depending on your preferred level of blandness).
The ‘singer’ from Embrace is one of the worst singers I have heard. After the first few songs I looked around at my neighbours to see if it was just me who thought he was murdering his own songs. Everyone else was waving their arms and singing along and not one person met my questioning eyes to confirm that “yes, he is a fucking awful singer”. I thought he might be doing it deliberately in an ‘ironic’ sense similar to Les Dawson when he used to hit bum notes while playing the piano but it seems he wasn’t. No wonder he started every song shouting “come on, sing along everyone!”.
On Easter Sunday we dressed up as nurse-cats smart and went driving in the Lancashire countryside. We found a nice restaurant beside some water and had a huge lunch. The beef in my pie was cooked in Murphy’s stout and was stupendous. I made sure they seated us next to a draughty door as I wanted to keep Mum and Dad awake (remember, cold = wide awake) and it worked, Dad paid for lunch.