When I came back from the training it was already late, and I was considering making things easy on myself and having dinner in the hotel itself. But as soon as I opened the door I decided against. The lounge was full of elderly people listening to a chap belting out Neil Sedaka songs and similar crowd-pleasers. I didn't know how quickly I should drop my bag and head for town! And while walking south I enjoyed the eerie light of a thunderstorm on the horizon.
I reached what seemed to be the nearest hub of nutrition. I saw several takeways and some chippies. I was hoping to sit down! I had already resigned myself to some quick grub at a neon-lit formica table (welcome to Blackpool!) when I saw a friendly-looking Italian restaurant. That saved me! There were hardly any guests, but hey, it was a monday, after 9PM. The waiters had all the time in the world for me. When they found out I was Dutch they swapped to Italian. Everybody knows the Dutch are polyglots! We settled on Spanish as an acceptable compromise. It was nice food. But when I got back to the hotel the singer (announced as "top class entertainment" on posters on the wall) was still belting away. Oh no! I wanted to sleep! And the pensioners listening to him were soon found out to be of dubious health - I was woken up by the coughing of the gentleman who, by the sound of it, had the hotel room above mine.
A dead denizen on the beach
The next morning I went for a run. First on the beach, but the sand was soft, and heavy to run on, so I retreated to the top of the sea wall. Even though I grew up in a country with more sandy beaches than you can shake a stick at, I saw why Blackpool had, in its day, attracted so many people. It was a quite nice beach!
I ran until I had a reasonable view on the famous Blackpool Tower, which was quite a distance further south. I got the pier for free with it. And then I turned around - close enough to beach pavilions and fancy fairs for me! And then I left. I figured I knew enough!