My first thought last Saturday was ‘those seagulls can fuck off.’ It was justified. It was 5.30 and they’d just woken me up. I was next woken at 7.30 by the woman in the room next door who I think was walking around in steel reinforced stilettos. Sod it, it was time to continue working through that stash of teabags in my room.

I treated myself to some rare relaxation time and lay there listening to Radio 2. Dermot O’Leary played a cover that I’d never heard before. Noel Gallagher, Paul Weller and Paul McCartney performing The Beatles “Come Together.” After hearing it the night before it was becoming something of the anthem for the weekend.

Breakfast was a bit odd. I’d gone down, ordered my poached egg on toast and decided to have a crumpet too. I stuck it in the toaster and loitered, as you do while it cooked, which always seems to take forever in that situation. A lass came alongside and poured a bowl of Cornflakes. Might not have been Cornflakes. I wasn’t paying that much attention. Other cereals are (and were) available. Anyway, I was standing right by the fridge and I was basically in the way. I spend most of my life in peoples way so no change there.

I decided to be helpful and got the milk out and passed it to her. She turned it down. “I’m just going to have a yogurt” she said. Who doesn’t have milk on cereal? She didn’t get yogurt either and just had fruit. I didn’t follow suit re the fruit. I was puzzled. Did she think I was trying to pull her via the medium of milk passing? If she thought I was after a bit of crumpet, I’d already got that sorted with the content of the toaster.

It’s a tradition that whenever I’m in Blackpool I go and have a look at where we used to stay as a family on Carlin Gate back in the early 80’s. The self contained place was a 6 room affair and it bugged me at the time, and still does that we didn’t get to stay in room number 5. Even as a kid I liked to get full sets of things ticked off. It’s now and has been for decades a private residence so I’ll never complete that set.

In those days we used to walk along the front, past all 3 piers down to the fairground. I’d got hours before I needed to head to Fleetwood so thought that I’d do it once more for old times sake. I got about 2 steps away from our old residence and it started to rain. I thought ‘bollocks to this’ and decided to get the tram instead. As a kid I was always fascinated by the one destination on the front of trams – Starr Gate. It sounded really futuristic and it still does. I decided to finally see what it was all about.

One daysaver for the tram purchased and we were off. The South Pier/fairground is as far down the prom as I have ever gone so new sights were incoming. And then came the announcement. “The next stop is Starr Gate.” The end of the line. If you are also intrigued about Starr Gate and are playing to make the voyage one day, then look away now. Well, it’s a bit meh. Apologies to any residents reading but it’s just some houses and a very fenced off modern looking building. It looks a nice place to live but there isn’t even a pub. My absolute favourite song of all time is “Suzie” by Boy Kill Boy and it has the chorus line of “countdown, countdown, countdown to the disappointment.” Well 45 or so years is a bloody long countdown for this bout of it. At least it had stopped raining.

I got back on the same tram that I’d got off, earning me a bemused look from the conductor and it started it’s return journey. I was soon back in my room with a cuppa. Not the usual Blackpool pre match drinking that I’m used to. I stuck a YouTube playlist on as I made the bed and a couple of songs in, on came “Nothing Matters” by The Last Dinner Party. Forgetting where I was, I gave it potions as normal before realising I was belting out “and I will fuck you, like nothing matters.” If it was the woman from breakfast in the room next door she might have been thinking ‘bloody hell George, you only offered to pass me the milk. Calm down.’ That is of course, if she calls everyone that she doesn’t know the name of George like I do.

I was still in my room at 1.40. I thought the match at Fleetwood might be in doubt with all the rain we had had, it had been battering my window during the night, but there was no news on this so I headed out. I needed to put the lottery on. I only pay this nowadays when it is a “must be won” jobbie and today it was one of these with a super £15 jackpot. I headed to the local shop. There were 3 men and a woman loitering outside. I got an instinctive feeling that they were up to no good.

I marched in and was pointed to the lottery stand. There was no pen at the end of the chain. “George, there’s no pen” I called out. The man came up and with a sigh, pointed at the 4 outside and said “they’ve got it.” I looked out at them. They did not seem to be doing anything that necessitated the use of a pen. He repeatedly asked them for it back and was ignored. Eventually he pointed at me and said “I’ve got a customer here.” Even I waded in at this point “come on, I’ve got a tram to catch.” This sparked a response. The man with the pen launched it into the road. He then stomped off followed by the two other lads. The shopkeeper retrieved the pen. It was devoid of the plastic casing and was just the inner thing (I know not the technical name for it). I looked at it and the man went off to get another one.

For some reason the lass from the group took an interest as I was making my selections and stood very closely, asking questions. I didn’t realise how hard it is to mark off your numbers when being distracted, using just your weak hand because your strong one is on phone guarding duty in your pocket due to the proximity of an unknown woman. She was really interested though. I was wondering if I’d pulled. Have I been doing it wrong all these years? Instead of visiting thousands of pubs I should have been going round newsagents putting the lottery on. Right, that’s the future. I’ll soon have Gambling Anonymous on speed dial.

Anyway the shopkeeper told her to clear off in the end and I put my numbers on. I’m really looking forward to 6 months time when I eventually get round to checking the ticket to see if it was all worthwhile. As I walked away I thought ‘just for once in my life can I have a normal straightforward day with nothing odd happening?’ I’m not holding my breath. If I win millions, I’m buying that place on Carlin Gate.

Finally on the tram, I was invited to sit with Laura and Joe which was nice. We were soon at Fleetwood. I’ve only been to the ground twice. In 2010 for the F.A Cup when Fleetwood were still non league and Walsall fans absolutely rammed the now closed Jolly Sailor pub. The cute but very stressed lone barmaid had a very busy shift. Just one more barmaid and they’d have made millions.

Anyway, we were shit that day scraping a lucky draw and the only highlight being with the new stand under construction they had a crane on loan from a Walsall company and we were chanting “we want our crane back.” I was also at a late season game in 2018 which we lost. The other visit was on a soaking wet day in December 2015. A big group of us were in The Strawberry Gardens when news came through of the match being postponed. Not one person shed a tear and more drinks were quickly on the cards. Woza and I went on a pub crawl of Fleetwood and I got absolutely twatted. Steaming by the time we reached The Steamer was my summing up of the day.

I had to visit the ticket office, and bumped into Tim Warner who had chips. He offered me one but threw in the caveat that they were shit. He said a better chip ship was round the back so I declined his offer and went to hunt for that one. The Highbury Chippy is right by the away end and unlike me I found it easily. I marched straight in with my order of smallest chips, biggest fish on my mind. I was behind Wurzel (I don’t know his real name) and soon I was outside gorging on Omega 3. Suddenly I heard a noise. Two seagulls were descending my way. Those seagulls can fuck off seemed to be the theme of the day. Wurzel scared them off which I was very grateful for. He then stood behind me and kept guard as they sat on the road plotting their next sortie.

There had been a steady stream of fans heading in but suddenly there was a deluge. The pub must have emptied. I decided now would be a good time to go in just to convince everyone I had been drinking. The queue was sizeable but moving nicely. It needed a bit of chaos. Enter stage left – me. My ticket wouldn’t scan. There wasn’t anyone sitting there to show the ticket to like at other grounds so I tried again and again. Admitting defeat I waved the person behind me through. A female steward asked what was up. Turns out I’d been given a ticket for the seats. I hadn’t checked it. She was a top lass though and let me on the terrace. What a star.

As I’d missed kick off and with the terrace very full I just headed down the other end in search of a gap. I found one and took it, approaching from behind, and looking at the pitch not at where I was going. It took 10 minutes to realise I was next to Panda, Sean and Jack – it was Sean who spotted this. We quickly went a goal down but pulled it back level. Aden Flint was amazing one goal saving tackle was unreal and a header nearly reached the half way line. I could have done with him outside defending me from the seagulls. He’d have headed them to Bispham.

Honours even at the end. I’ll take that as they dicked us 8-2 over the two league games last season. Nice to see Kimbo, Kirsty, John and Shelley (Shelley making her Walsall FC debut), Jay, Rob, Dave O’Shea, Mase (who I think I headbutted in my eagerness to give him a hug), Martin, Paul and Simon, Micky Lees and the two Jonah’s who caught me munching outside. Apologies to anyone that I’ve missed.

John had mooted Strawberry Gardens after the game so I headed there, albeit with a wrong turn or two. He was there with Shelley, his son Harvey, Nathan and Sue & Tomo. After a pleasant hour I done one. Again I had Joe and Laura for tram company. I got off by Central Pier, as I had another retro slot machine arcade to tick off following the success of the one the night before.

This arcade only had 1 machine that I wanted to play – Road Hog. My first pound coin dropped through, I tried again, the same then it swallowed a £2 coin. I was not happy. I stormed out and stomped off down the promenade. I wasn’t in a mood for long. How could I be? I was on the front in Blackpool. The sights, sounds and smells as you walk along just lifts your mood. I had only one thing left on my to do list so I pressed on, southwards.

It started to rain. ‘It’ll quickly pass like all the others have’ I thought. It didn’t. I was now in that stretch between the Central and south Piers where it’s all hotels. Nowhere to hide. It absolutely pissed down. I made it to Dutton Arms which used to be the must visit pub in Blackpool but it lost that franchise after a couple of crap trips there, so I turned the corner.

At this point, the rain somehow manged to intensify. I was nearly at The Bull though. What song popped in my head? B*Witched “Blame It On The Weatherman.” “The rain goes ooooooon, ooooooon and on again.” Great even my brain is having banter with me now. Won’t blame the weatherman/woman though. They can’t help it being shit but I did consider raising the issue in a slightly flirty email to Lucy Verasamy.

On the way I’d noticed that Yates’s had closed down. If that can’t stay open then nowhere is safe. (November 13th update. It’s been demolished. Yates’s Blackpool demolished. Iconic art deco building gone. What a shame.) I prayed that The Bull was still open and there it was. Apologies for the lack of a photo but you know. I wanted to get inside. As I squelched in I got the obligatory “is it raining?” question. God job I’ve got a manic sense of humour. I was absolutely soaked to the skin. I could have jumped off the end of all 3 piers and still been dryer. The barmaid was nice and smiley which lifted my mood. I only stayed for one (after all that). Katy Perry came on just as I was finishing but even she couldn’t tempt me to stay longer. I was cold, wet and hungry. I needed food. McDoanlds is close and I’ve not yet had a dabble with the Monopoly game but I reckoned that the world and their mom would be sheltering there so I had a moment that sounds like a Chance card. “Go to hotel. Go directly to hotel. Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200.” Although doing the last bit of that would have been pleasant.

I jumped on the tram and got off at North Pier. I grabbed a burger, not off the front. I’m a tight was and believe that things are cheaper up a side street so I grabbed 1/2 pound cheeseburger (only £1 more than a 1/4lb – no brainer) and walked back.

I had a row with the lock on the front door. Trying to use my weak hand to unlock it while the strong one clutched my food. I was cold, wet, shivering and miserable. I was also about to piss myself, not that that would have made much of a difference at that moment.

I made it in, and to the loo in time. I had to peel my jeans off me – calm down ladies, but soon I was under the duvet with a cuppa warming up, listening to the Legal Hour on LBC. In bed at 9.30 on a Saturday night in Blackpool. God I feel my full 51 years.

Following morning I headed down for breakfast. I stopped on the way into the room and rubbed my eye. “Heavy night?” asked the sole other person. I laughed, but gave him the truth “no, I had two Diet Coke all day.” I didn’t realise doing Coke made you look so rough. I’ll remember that.

I went to check out at 10 and asked the nice lady if I could sit in the bar to make some notes. She asked if I’d like a cup of tea which I was never going to turn down. She then said that my room wasn’t being used that day and did I want to go back up there to relax until my train. That was so decent of her and I was very grateful as I’d got no plan on how to fill the next 3 hours after departure.

Just before departure I played “Come Together” – The Beatles version as it had been the song of the weekend and I found £2 under the bed which made up for what the fruit machine had robbed the night before.

I stopped at the Greggs at Blackpool North railway station, had a laugh with the nice lady serving. It was a superb weekend and a train coffee was a nice way to round things off. Shocking on my part though that I didn’t make it to a Ma Kellys all weekend and there was one 5 minutes walk from my hotel. Must try harder.

At Preston the trains had been misbehaving. The ones before mine had had an hour and 40 minute delays respectively. Ours was only 3 minutes late. Phew.

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