And then I finished 'Dancer From The Dance' and I was distraught that it was finished and that those men were doomed from the start of the first beat of make me believe in you. Ultimately I'm happy that I was never one of the beautiful people and that I didn't live in NYC in 1971 because I would have fallen in LOVE ten times every day and twenty times every night. Much better to read all about it thirty years later from the comfort and safety of ugly, old, recession-hit, provincial blighty.



We went to Southport for the day yesterday and got caught up in the Protestant marching band parade. Drums and fifes and teenagers dressed as King Billy marched through the gardens, past the lake, along the pier and then into the pubs, where they stayed until they were sick on the pavement outside and then fought among themselves (we were long gone before then). Excellent lunch in the Westminster Tea Rooms, a restaurant which faithfully recreates the attitude and ambience of the 1930's (but not, unfortunately, the prices). Shopped in the last department store in town, Broadbent and Boothroyds, and then took a stroll along the newly refurbished pier where we hung over the railings watching the skateboarders and bmx'ers doing their stuff on the ramps and half-pipes below. Southport is nice, but not as nice as it used to be. The closing of the amusement park 2 years ago with its four classic rollercoasters has had an impact on the town which I don't think the council expected. On the site of the old amusement park is now a collection of funfair rides from a travelling fair which just makes the place look tacky to me. The gardens and the ornamental lakes and putting greens just don't seem to be as manicured as they once were when the town was proud of its attractions. Southport was once seen as 'upmarket' compared to Blackpool but that reputation has now been laid to rest and this makes me sad.