Southport, our last English pier. And like that Ford Maddox Brown painting we’re huddled in flimsy shelter against the wind. We to are about to leave our homeland, although luckily just for one night. We can’t check into Pontins till 4pm so Danny …

The title of this post is an oblique George Formby reference, no prizes given for the correct answer however. I’m sitting on a bench by a fairly substantial pond (which may be a wide, slow moving, part of a brook—it’s not easy to tell) watching th…

We’re going to meet this fella tomorrow.

We sorted the Pontins thing and the mood on the car lifted, or Danny’s mood lifted which is sort of the same thing. Sullen sleepy science replaced with sword attack from the back seat. Nothing quite dampens the mood than Blackpool though. Crass co…

So, we’ve mentioned that we’re really looking forward to stopping at a Pontins camp on this trip. Specifically Southport, where we’ve both holidayed and my sister was a Bluecoat. Actually getting the chalet had been proving hard —you can’t book ju…

We’re in Whitby, which by our list doesn’t have a pier. The residents think it does, however, so at the invitation of the lighthouse keeper of the lighthouse on it we came, we saw, we climbed and flashed at the top of if. We didn’t know there was …

Since hearing it at our first pier, the music of David Essex has been a constant staple of our tour. Hold me Close is favourite, but Rock On too. There’s a bit of a That’ll Be The Day/Stardust vibe to the trip — there’s been times I’ve felt like r…

Midge has just shaved his head, he said he was “looking like a hippy” after a week of growth. Danny’s is looking greased and very rocker, he alternates between shaking it loose near the coast and tying back in the car. Mine is looking fantastic, I…

We’ve pitched our tent up the back of a beer garden, the pub was—I thought until I just checked—the Cock Inn. It’s actually called the Castle Inn, and we picked it due to some punk connection that leap out when we were searching for places to stay…