Sunset at Morecambe
The clocks having gone forward finally, me and the husband took an evening stroll in Morecambe. Apart from a few recalcitrant teenagers, we had the whole place to ourselves as dusk fell.
Morecambe feels like an elderly, occasionally incontinent, much-loved relative who I feel guilty for not visiting enough. I have long stopped wishing that it could have a snazzy regeneration and turn into a hip and happening place. Instead, visiting it feels like walking through a huge open-air musuem. I think everyone who lives there should be made to dress in inter-war year clothing, and Gracie Fields should be piped from loud-speakers on every street corner.
And yes, if you look at that first picture, you will see the inspiration for the name of this blog. If you are ever in Morecambe, do visit it.