For us Northerners, Blackpool illuminations is a rite of passage. It’s a coming of age moment. Right up there with your first Greggs pasty, chip barms and rickets.
I’ll not lie, I had high expectations. So much so I may have bigged it up a little too much.
In my defence, I’d not been for over thirty years, and whether it was selective memory, rose-tinted Timmy Mallet glasses or that sugar rush you only get from a stick of rock, in my head it was to be the sensory show to end all shows.… read the full post.