- Jun 11, 2007
Small is beautiful.
Now I think if we're honest most of us have a snobby side.
I certainly do (I am English after all) and whilst I try very hard to keep it in check, I'll never get rid of it completely.
I of course also have reverse snobbery, so I don't just mean looking down snootily but also looking up snootily.
Now I generally avoid the Hyacinth Bucket brand of snobbery. A branch of my family I no longer speak to went very much that way, but I could never win because when I went to a family event at a hotel they mocked me roundly for ordering a copy of The Times at breakfast. To them, the only reason I could have for doing this was to "show off" - one of them said to be "It's not like you'll ever read it!" which made me sad, as I realised how little they knew me or my branch of the family at all.
On the other hand, they mocked me roundly when I first went to Blackpool a decade or so again and fell in love with it, calling me a chav for going to Blackpool.
There are Real Ale pubs in Blackpool, it is hardly their fault if you went to chain pubs and didn't do your research first. You're not going to find the best pubs on the Prom. You also say you heard the roller coaster was good, but failed to try it out, which is hardly fair.Have to agree with the branch of your family you no longer speak to - Blackpool is appalling, quite the worst place I ever visited. I'd been about 20 years ago and found it unspeakably grim, but in recent years finding myself in the neighbourhood I visited a second time, reckoning it must have got better in the intervening. But it hadn't, it had got miles worse. Of course things weren't helped by one of the first pubs you see on entering the town by car had literally been burnt down the night before, won't say the name but was an outlet of a popular chain across the north of England, but the bouncers had kicked some punter out the night before, the reason doesn't matter, probably too drunk to stand anymore, and off he went made up a petrol bomb and came back to wreak his vengeance. But burnt out pubs is not the main problem with Blackpool, the single reason why it is so grim is the drinker cannot find a single pub in the whole town serving good quality cask ale, all you get is numberless bars flogging lager fizz, the sort that leaves you with a pounding headache after even only one pint. Blackpool is unlovable, sorry. Next day I moved on to Morecambe, a delightful town, perhaps how Blackpool was decades ago before all the tatty clubs and cheap hotels moved in. My visit was also wrecked by an encounter with a hen party, all pissed out of their heads by 3pm, all dressed in pink tutus - and why does every hen party always have to include one member who is beyond fat and has to screech hysterically with laughter between every slug from her pint of cider?
No, Blackpool is grim, quite the grimmest place I ever visited.
But they say the roller coaster is good.