How We Used To Live
Always a happy sight - it means I'm in Morecambe again, like last week. Drop in for a drink at the Eric Bartholomew, the town's Wetherspoon pub.
I've never been. I need to rectify that.
it's a rather run-down place, grey, dilapidated, pokey backstreets, though with a lot of smartening up done on the sea front in recent years and a nice public art/poetry walkway from the market place to the end of the stone pier. Also the very swanky reopened Midland Hotel, a proper posh place in its 1920s-30s heyday. I first visited in 1981, still a kid, didn't return till 2004 and now go 2-3 times a year at least, usually just an overnight stop in the Auckland hotel where I am at least 30 years younger than most of the other guests. The town's West end looks rougher and has a bit of a reputation but the only bad experience I've had in Morecambe is the acoustics in the old railway station turned concert venue (the Platform) making Focus sound awful. Karaoke on Saturday night in the Pier pub, old Brian Aldiss paperbacks in the musty clutter of the Old Pier bookshop, fried brekky in Rita's bustling cafe, pear drops and the morning paper from the newsagent by Natwest - get in there. Shame the shop I got 'Computer Love' from vanished somewhere between the 1981 the town always evokes and the noughties that don't seem to notice the place that they are trying to uncoil themselves in.
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