A summer in Blackpool
Had a heated discussion with someone in the office about the merits of a weekend in Blackpool.
I was of the opinion that the resort as a drinking destination is a dirty, depressing, soulless place. A sh*thole, basically. While my colleague was from Blackpool. He vigorously disagreed.
The brash trash of the town is seductive in its own way, but the grubby bars and the hoardes of heavy drinking stag parties leave me cold.
Can’t see what appeal myself. Each to their own like. Did you know people from Scotland come down the M6 to Blackpool in their thousands? Some of them even stay for a whole week! They have to come past the Lake District to get there. What are they thinking?
Over the 2008 summer season I am visiting Blackpool regularly to photograph the resort and, more specifically, it’s visitors. No portraiture, no poses. Just the people as they patrol the promenade and stagger between the bars.
Interesting fact: British rail have cancelled the Blackpool to Manchester Airport train at 1.10am. And the ticket man will make you buy a new ticket for 3.35am train because returns are only valid until 2.30am.