Alan Wilkinson

 by Linda Greenall

Alan has lived in Blackpool since he was five years old, his family moved here from Ticknall Derbyshire. His parents opened a boarding house in Kent Road in the town.

Alan met his wife in East London. His wife is a retired teacher and she retired due to ill health.

They have three sons, all have recently completed university. Alex, who spent a year recently working in Australia,  has joined Alan on a creative writing course for journalism. David went to university in Aberdeen and lives there now. Ben is going to China in February to teach English as a foreign language.

Alan went to Blackpool Grammar School but he was unhappy there and ended up at Tyldesley School. His best subjects there were writing essays and drawing.

Alan did A levels by correspondence course with a view to maybe going to university, but never got there.

Twenty years ago Alan qualified as a Specialist Teaching Assistant, which didn’t come to much.

Alan has mainly worked in the Civil Service and other admin jobs.

His favourite place is Aberdeen which he describes as, "A very nice civilised part of the world."

Alan and his wife got to know the place well. Their middle son David went to university there and now works in Aberdeen. "We have friends just outside Aberdeen," Alan explained, "and David and their daughter went out together for a few years."

Alan also has fond memories of Majorca. He had a holiday there with his girlfriend who later became his wife.

"It was around this time of year. We hired a car and spent a week exploring the island, away from the touristy parts. It is a beautiful island." They came across out of the way villages that were like going back in time.

When Alan was young he was in bed for almost a year with one thing after another, He read practically everything Conan Doyle had written. He found that Rider Haggard and PC Wren were great escapist story tellers. Later he read all Kingley Amis and Tom Sharpe, and of course Stephen King, he says he has read all but one of Stephen King's thriller/ horror stories, but hasn’t read any of the Gunslinger stories because he could not get into them.

Alan says he thinks Under The Dome is one of Stephen King's best books. Recently Alan has read some of Jo Nesbo’s books, another talented Scandinavian writer. He has also read and enjoyed the Hunger Games trilogy.

Alan’s interests and pastimes are running and cycling. Running has always been his favourite exercise. These days he balances the running with cycling and trips to the gym so that he doesn’t get too many niggles and strains.

When Alan and his wife bought their first house they didn’t have much money so he did a lot of DIY and he still does a lot of DIY now and has begun to question how much time he spends on his DIY jobs.

I asked Alan if something in the world makes him angry. He says, "Politicians taking us for fools." He also mentioned cruelty and injustice, saying, "They are unacceptable but continuous fact of life somewhere in the world everyday."

Alan writes an hour or two most days: maybe ten to twelve hours a week.

Alan’s writing tip is that it is better to do a little everyday than to leave it all to do in one big effort.

Alan would like to write scripts for radio, comedy possibly, dialogue preferably, and also short stories and articles.

Alan wrote a book about twenty years ago but unfortunately it was turned down when submitted to a publisher. I asked where he preferred to write he said at his computer in his lounge. He has to make time for his writing, unless he keeps on with writing he loses the thread of what he was writing.

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Alex Wilkinson

 by Ashley Lister

Alex J Wilkinson is a writer who has reviewed video games including Natural Selection 2 and Faster Than Light. Familiar with a broad range of games, including MMOs, MOBAs and RPGs; Alex is a writer who plays games and a gamer who writes.

Away from the PC games Alex enjoys science fiction and creative non-fiction.

Alex says: “My main goal with writing is to build up more of a portfolio of work which will hopefully allow me to take my writing further afield. I also hope to eventually get around to writing more fiction and generally writing more.”

Discussing his personal philosophy of writing, Alex advises:

“When writing news articles, or articles based in fact, your number one priority should be to inform the read and not mislead them. When possible write about areas that interest you personally. As writing is a very personal experience it often becomes very transparent when you write about areas in which you have little interest.”

Alex adds: “To get writing into the public domain these days is easier than ever before. If you enjoy writing you can setup your own site for free or for rather low over heads and get your writing out there. The more you write the better you get so often times if you can write, write!”

Alex is currently reading Bill Bryson’s Down Under and says it compares well to his own thoughts about Australia.

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Linda Greenall

by Alan Wilkinson

Linda Greenall lives in Blackpool, where she was born and raised. At a young age she found she had a gift for expressing herself in words. At primary school this showed itself in an aptitude for poetry.

She left school at 16 and married. She has four grown-up sons.

Linda was a barmaid for over twenty years and loved this work. She met many memorable people doing this job, who are now potential inspiration for her writing.

When she was thirty-two, on a trip to Egypt she caught a virus, this turned out to be the start of rheumatoid arthritis. She has suffered with it ever since and had to retire from work at forty.

Linda decided if her body wouldn't work properly she would go to college and use her brain; she studied A levels in Archaeology and History & Totalitarian regime. She also studied the subjects of Ancient Egyptian archaeology; Criminology, Sociology and Spanish

She loves her garden which she has made into a wildlife garden.

She hates cruelty, in any form; it makes her angry, and she is horrified what men do for profit.

Her favourite place in Britain is the New Forest.

On writing:

Her favourite author is Stephen King who was her main inspiration to write.

She tries to get some writing done every day, but, it’s not always possible. One day she would like to go on a writers’ retreat, to one of the Italian lakes.

Linda’s writing tip is to make time for writing, practice makes perfect.

She is currently writing a scary thriller, the idea arrived in the shape of an’ ideas ball’ thrown by her teacher and mentor, the writer Ashley Lister in a creative writing class - to write a story of 2500 words “A Stranger comes to town”. Linda has since developed this into a novel.

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Ailsa Osborne

By Dorothy Gibbons

Ailsa was born in the mid fifties in Liverpool. She spent much of her spare time reading Enid Blyton, turning familiar fairy stories into plays and acting them out with friends before the rest of the school. She would spend hours reading in her room and writing book reports to display in the local library.

Her teen years changed when she became involved with the Salvation Army developing a desire to care for the outcasts of her town. She read books by William Booth the founder of the Salvation Army. These books described the dark side of Victorian London. She engaged with drunks and homeless people having an interest in their life stories.

“The first homeless man I spoke to in Blackpool was a former bricklayer who had fallen at work and broken his leg. This meant a long period with no wages. As a result he got behind with the mortgage and the bank foreclosed on his house. His wife and children went to live with her family in Manchester. He was sleeping rough.”

She saw the homeless in a different way and enjoyed chatting to many over a sandwich listening to their tales. She has only recently shown an interest in writing following some adult education where she was encouraged to attend classes run by Ashley Lister, himself a published author.

 

As a disabled person suffering from fibromyalgia she is unable to work. Spending much of her time reading the likes of Lynne Andrews, stories of war time Liverpool about life for the working class of that era. Her favourite title of those series is Tuppence to cross the Mersey.

As yet Ailsa hasn't made any attempt to get her work published. She says she writes simply for the joy of it, escaping from the mundane life she feels faces her.

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Dorothy Gibbons

by Ailsa Osborne

Dorothy Gibbons was born in Falkirk, Central Scotland just in time for the ‘swinging sixties.’ As a child she loved reading Enid Blyton books and acting out the adventures with friends. Her uncle Ian was known for his ability to write poems about local people and events. He encouraged her to write by making it into a competition between them.

After leaving school she worked in a bookshop where she loved to read the work of such diverse writers as Scottish poet Robert Burns, American mystery writer Edgar Alan Poe and poet Emily Dickinson. These stories excited her and formed an interest for the written work which lay dormant for many years.

During a period of depression, following her divorce, Dorothy started writing poems as a way of escaping from her unhappy reality and instead creating her own imaginary world.

She finds being outdoors motivates her to write her poetry which often has a Scottish influence. Whilst living in Yorkshire she made many trips to Haworth, home of the Brontë sisters, and was stirred by the beauty of the moors which encouraged her to read Wuthering Heights which still remains a firm favourite story.

In 2011 Gibbons had a poem in a ‘Secrets of the heart’ anthology by United Press. The last verse is printed below.

The world's your oyster, you can go so far

No more living in the shadows of fear

Fantasy will be gone, welcome reality true

All the world will embrace you.

More recently she has concentrated on writing for young adults and older children.

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Aliens in Blackpool

 by Ailsa Osborne

Next on BBC North we have our nightly News report at Ten.
Here with the latest update on the strange happenings that are being spoken off in Blackpool tonight is Jennifer Dove.

“More residents are maintaining sightings of laser beams which appear to be coming from the top of the famous Tower,” she reported. “Many say that the lights are green but some earlier sightings are said to be yellow.” She turned and smiled reassuringly at the camera. “I have been unable to get an update on the number of admissions to the Victoria Hospital tonight, but an inside member of staff, who does not wish to be named,  has said that there are far more than usual for a Saturday night.” In her opinion Jennifer felt that most of the people sat in the triage waiting room where simply drunk and were scrounging a bed for the night.
“Over next” said the presenter hurriedly, “to our Technical news reporter Rupert McCleod. . . .”

Nothing happened, the screens remained blue and no sound was forthcoming.
“A slight, erm, technical hitch I think there” the presenter stuttered, desperately wanting to sound professional and composed.

“We shall go instead over to Detective Chief Inspector Bernard Briggs, who is based at the Bonnie Street Police station in the shadow of the Tower.
“DCI Briggs, what can you tell us about events over the last few hours?”
“My officers’ report over forty people in the area have been into the station with conflicting information. It would appear that additional laser beams are being noticed above the Tower where usually white beams shoot up into the sky but tonight green and yellow ones have been sighted.”  The Officer looked a little bewildered and confused.
“These beams are instead apparently shining down onto the promenade between Church street and the North pier. Also some residents have mentioned beams on Central Drive, but that has not been substantiated as yet” he hurriedly added, averting his eyes from the camera.

Rupert McCleod added quickly, ”We have spoken to Fred Harvey who co-ordinates the famous Blackpool Illuminations and he has stated that to the best of his knowledge there should only be white lasers going upward into the sky, lighting the darkness above the Tower.”

“Councillor Simon Blackburn, leader of the Council, refused an interview at first but read out this statement a few minutes ago.” Rupert continued.
“It is my considered opinion that the people who have made these reports have all been visiting the many hostelries along Talbot Road and the Promenade. I feel that large quantities of alcohol have been consumed during the time leading to these allegations which may have contributed to these alleged ‘sightings’ tonight”
Rupert interrupted him quickly, “Each person interviewed maintains having seen either green or yellow sparkly lights Councillor, could you be mistaken perhaps?”
“No, not at all, Rupert. Blackpool is a safe place for families to come” the Councillor maintained, “Now I must go, goodnight, sleep well. There is nothing to worry about at all.”

Hundreds of feet above them they were unaware of the Aliens as they compared notes.

“I think planet Earth is not a good place for us to visit this summer” claimed the Captain to his Head Office.  “Everyone is drunk and wearing inappropriate clothes which they tend to lose as they walk along. The weather there was very cold compared to Mars and yet we saw both males and females wandering around topless! We also saw males dressed as females, and vice versa .The language was very limited, most words began with ‘F’

“I think you may well be right, get yourselves back home quickly in case you get contaminated!”

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Anne Ward

by Pamela Winning

Anne Ward is a published writer in the enviable situation of having the freedom to write whenever and wherever she pleases. Weather permitting, she prefers to be outside and a notebook and pen on Blackpool Promenade or Stanley Park would be ideal.

She writes fiction, with a lean towards the historical; and poetry, finding inspiration everywhere. For her, writing is escapism with a desire to entertain and amuse others. Some of her work was included in the 2012 Haunted Blackpool feature in the illuminations and published in the anthology. She is a regular contributor at the Blackpool Dead Good Poets’ open mic events and always manages to write about the chosen topic. She has a blog and includes snippets about her cat, Raffles.

Her reading interests include historical fiction, gothic horror and some non-fiction.

Anne is well-travelled and combining her love of history, has flown over ancient Egypt in a hot-air balloon.

As we chatted, I was interested to learn about Anne’s years spent involved as a volunteer with the Red Cross and how her First Aid skills had contributed to saving someone’s life. She has worked with the Scouts and still has an active role within the worship group of her church.

Anne has a wealth of experience to bring to the page and the imagination to do what she most desires, to achieve success with continued publication.

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Pamela Winning

 by Anne Ward

Pam  is a writer of  fictional short stories and poetry, she started writing as small child.

AW: “What is it you enjoy  about  writing?”  

PW: “I enjoy writing to express the inner me. It's something I feel  compelled to do.”

AW: “Where do you do your writing?”

PW: “I have a study at home but most of my writing is done on the sofa. I write in a journal everyday usually in the evenings”

Pam's reading habits include biographies written by the actual person not a ghost writer. She found much pleasure in Paul O’Grady’s latest work as he is a good all rounder and a very caring man.

Pam has a Springer Spaniel called Crombie whom she takes on long walks in all weathers. As she is interested in local history she recently visited Pendle Hill to join in the celebrations of 400 years since the last witch.

Pam has read all the Brontë's novels and would like to re-read Wuthering Heights, as now she is older she would look at it from a different prospective. Pam keeps a joint blog as well as her own private one.

Along with myself and other creative writers, Pam wrote a spooky poem for the Haunted Blackpool anthology which was published in 2012. Pam has had some of her work published but feels she has a great deal to offer and will strive to get more out there in the future.

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Blackpool Aliens

by

Pamela Winning

  

A cold wind was blowing in from the sea and there was more than a hint of rain in the dull, autumn sky. Louise tightened her grip on the buggy as she crossed Dickson Road by Funny Girls, and nearly tripped over the pram wheels as she hurried out of the way of a taxi that hurtled round the corner.

“You ignorant bloody bastard!” She hissed in response to the driver’s sustained blast of car horn and muttered a wish for revenge as the vehicle sped away.

She turned on to Talbot Road and stopped to fasten her coat and pull the rain shield over the buggy. Amy had been lulled to sleep by the rhythm of the train and remained undisturbed, even by the taxi. Louise tucked the soft blanket round her.

“I could have nodded off, myself, babe,” she sighed.

She walked briskly through Talbot Square and on to the Promenade.  Keeping her hood up was impossible and her long hair was constantly whipped into her face. The tide was reaching the sea wall, a wild mass of choppy, foaming waves blending into the grey sky. Other people milled around, all fighting the weather, as she was. She headed towards the Tower, Central Pier and the Golden Mile, not really knowing where she was going, but sure that she would recognise the right shop.

The smell of hotdogs and fried onions mingled with doughnuts and fresh candy-floss. Louise smiled. It was the aroma of her childhood. She passed a sea-food stall and thought of the times she’d sat on the beach with a paper bag of shrimps, pulling the heads and tails off to eat them. Someone with a weary voice too close to the microphone, called bingo numbers from the back of an amusement arcade. Someone without a mic was offering two for one sticks of Blackpool rock.

At last, she found the right ‘fancy goods’ shop. Hanging from the canopy, blowing in the wind, but protected by cellophane, were a collection of brightly coloured ‘teddy style’ aliens.

“Can I have a lime-green alien, please?” Louise tucked the buggy into the shelter of the canopy and counted some money from her purse. Amy had woken up and was chattering. “Just a minute, Amy.”

“This one, love?” The sales girl lifted down the cute version of Roswell, small body and large head with huge almond-shaped eyes and black circle for a mouth.

“Yes, please. Oh, could I have two? Both green.”

“Ay-Lee!” Amy called, sitting up with a beaming smile.

“Yes, Ay-Lee for Amy, and we won’t lose this one, will we?” Louise unwrapped one and gave it to her. Amy hugged it, kissed it and stroked the soft fur.

“Aw, isn’t she sweet!” The shop assistant bent down to see Amy.

“She will be now she’s got her Ay-Lee,” Louise put the second one in her bag. “And we’ve got a spare. Thank you.”

The hint of rain had grown into drizzle and the wind seemed to have strengthened. Louise hurried along the Prom’ listening to Amy babbling to Ay-Lee and smiled to herself. Next train home and no irate taxi drivers.

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Aliens in Blackpool

by Alan Wilkinson

There used to be a UFO museum in Blackpool in the 90's. It was situated above Burger King in Blackpool; you could spend hours in there, believing the unbelievable. It always strove to give a look of authenticity to things that, at best, you could describe as unproven. For instance, it had a re-creation of the crashed saucer at Roswell complete with alien bodies strewn on the ground. A recreation of the Alien autopsy (not the Ant and Dec film). There were pseudo-realistic displays based on Area 51 and crop circles.

There was a startling room with models of all the different kinds of aliens, reptilians, greys, Nordics etc. Amongst them was an empty space that was for mankind to take our place amongst them when the time was right.

David Boyle owned and ran the museum and gift shop.To some he seemed odd but knowledgeable about things most people could only speculate about). He did a short talk on everything from UFO`s to the construction of the pyramids While he spoke what he said seemed believable. The ethos and charisma of his museum was essentially an extension of his obsessions and interests.To most people it was fun but to David it was real. Apparently Dave Boyle's UFO Exhibition is no longer in Blackpool. First it was moved from above Burger King along the promenade. Next it moved to the Sea Life Centre. There, it lasted approximately 18 months, then closed down and was replaced with a Doctor Who Exhibition. 

Alien Base was a magnet to eccentrics, those who believe in Aliens and flying saucers and to wide eyed kids: the kind who used to haunt Madame Tussauds Chamber of Horrors.
Peter produced a video that was apparently quite good viewing. The video shows supposed NASA footage and Pete Boyle showing around some bemused tourists. It also shows pictures from an ancient temple in Baalbek (Libya) where the foundation stones are truly enormous (and Pete reckoned only one crane existed that could move it. One comment on the now defunct website said: “On the whole a good video made by a passionate chap-I think they should bring back Blackpool UFO museum.” 

Peter Boyle was well known to the UK UFO community. He was involved in national discussions on extraterrestrial activity, cover ups and conspiracy. He still has a Facebook page, which contains discussions about scientific and would-be scientific preoccupations, called Alien Connection Ltd, Research and Publishing Facility.

Alien Connection Ltd is the base of David H Boyle's research facility, and where you can contact David Boyle or his team with regards to his research in free energy and paranormal subjects which when pieced together give the true meaning of the creation of our solar system and all that is.

David now has a new website / store up and running with the same interests and a hope to find a site for his museum visit: David H Boyle “The Workings of the Universe.”

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A Strange Encounter

 by Alex Wilkinson

It was a cold frosty winter's night when a dark slender shadow slid out of the murky sea. It was a still night, the sea shimmered motionless as though made out of mercury as the moon glistened down bathing the scene in its pale cold light. The shadow laid  on the cold coarse sand with the silvered sea slowly biting at its extremities.
After what seemed like hours the shadow suddenly burst into life, flailing around on the shore gasping for air and coughing up rivers of water before falling exhaustively forward. It began to tilt its head back to try and take in the surrounds. As it angled its head the moon caught a short glimpse of its eyes reflecting the pale light as though it was shining in two oblong glass mirrors.
It was clear, that this shadow was not of this world...
The shadow began to crawl up the beach in an attempt to escape the slowly encroaching water it had oozed from. The shadow slowly headed over the rocks that peppered the landscape, glistening like rhinestones under the pale cold light providing markers on the cold unforgiving sand. As the shadow crawled up the beach the rocks seemed to dance under the moonlight reflecting an ever changing landscape. Empty, cold, and hollow.
After the better part of an hour the shadow finally slumped over at the base of a monolithic dark sand dune that seemed to be stretching unrelentingly towards the stars. This obstacle dwarfed the figure cowering at the base of this unforgiving obstacle. There was no guarantee this mound of sand was the gatekeeper that would be able to free it from its torment, but it knew one thing for sure: the sea had nothing to offer, at least not anymore.
Sapped of all energy and still struggling to get used to this alien place the shadow knew in its current state its only recourse would be to wait. Wait until the cold pale light is dispersed by the warming soothing glow of the sun. But would it last the dark in this alien place? From the depths of the sea the warm soothing glow slowly began to envelope the landscape.
Slowly turning the sea of mercury into a rich deep blue as the soothing glow dispersed and danced across the entire landscape, the once lifeless landscape began to animate as the light of day began breathing new life across the landscape.
A new shadow appeared across this once lifeless landscape jogging across the sands, only to stumble upon the dark shadowy figure huddled by the sand dunes. As he drew closer he saw this figure was unlike anything he had ever seen before and with curiosity getting the better of him moved over to inspect the alien figure more closely.
Panting he looked down at this contorted alien figure which slowly turned its head to look into his face only to ask: “Where is this place?”
Startled at the alien's command of the English language he replied, “You’re in Blackpool, in England.”
The shadow muttered, “It's worse than I thought,” as it slowly edged back to the sea from where it
had once came.

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Illuminated Blackpool

 by Dorothy Gibbons

“Don't forget your gloves, Jack”, Mum screeched. 

“I won't Mum, it's always cold at the switch on of the Illuminations."

Margaret and Jack set off to walk along the town's seafront to meet Tom, Jack's Dad.

Jack was so excited this year as his favourite band, McFly, were opening the night. He was dressed in his picture T-shirt with McFly in coloured flashing lights. How many people would he dazzle? he wondered. Multi coloured glow-sticks made him visible in the dark should he wander off.

The town was buzzing with excitement. Thousands had turned out - more than any other year. There was a star-studded programme of celebrities appearing.

Children and adults dressed in Alien costumes; great followers of the famous Doctor Who. David Tenant who played The Doctor, was the guest who was going to flick that special switch. Blackpool would then be a colourful array of lights making it come alive for another year.

Hustle and bustle and music filled the air. Celebrities included McFly, Robbie Williams as well as The Doctor and his famous Daleks.

Laughter and screaming filled the air as the night progressed. There were vendors on every corner of the Golden Mile selling laser lights, bobbling headbands and flashing glasses. Food smells, throwing out an aroma of hot dogs and fried onions were tantalising the taste-buds and costing parents a small fortune.

Dusk was falling, the lasers looked brighter than ever, throwing beams of light across the sea. Creating a rather creepy atmosphere.

Mums yelled to their children to stay close by them as more people crushed in. Each band and artist sung their hearts out to the screaming audience. New boy James Arthur was introduced as the winner of this year's X Factor. His voice urged the atmosphere to a crescendo of applause, a build up to the main theme of the night.

Compère, Radio 2's D.J. Mark Goodier, took the mic and introduced David Tenant to the screaming crowds. Fanfare sounds of the theme tune blasted out and Dalek sounds drowned the screeches of the crowd.

David started the countdown and bellowed to the crowds: "Are you ready for this Blackpool?"

He flicked the famous switch, but there was silence as nothing happened. There wasn't a flicker of light anywhere. Children screamed in fear of the darkness. Angry teenagers shouted abuse in disappointment.

Suddenly from the top of the Tower came humongous rays of lights, green and yellow brighter than the sun. They were lasers scanning the crowds.

Gasping the crowd looked in awe. Not a word was uttered. Uncanny silence filled the air.

Was this all the Doctor's doing? Part of the show? Had Aliens, little green creatures from a far away planet, arrived to take control of the people of Blackpool?

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Alien Debate

by Anne Ward                                                                  

“On  the  programme  today   we  discuss  Aliens ,  asking  the  question: “What  Is  An  Alien?”

Some   one  with  a  bent  ear , or  a  crooked  face

Doesn’t  always  have  to  be  a  being  from  outer  space

It  could  be  a  small  adult  with  an  inherited  genetic  defect,

Or  a  very  tall  person  who  wears  a  size  16  shoe.  Even  someone  having  a  fit  of  the  blues

Maybe   a   loner   who  just  wants  to  be different.

Not  one  who  wears  the  same  uniform  as  every  other  inhabitant

Blackpool   has  a  very  diverse,  cosmopolitan  population.

Take  a walk  along  the  Prom` during  the  busy  season,  

you  will  hear  a  mixture  of  languages  and  accents.  

See  the   extremes   of  fashion  and  cultures.

Its  enough  to  make  us  locals  feel  like  outnumbered  Aliens!

“Breaking  News.  After  a  recent  heavy  snowfall  we  are  hearing  reports  of  strange  Aliens  appearing  in  gardens  across  the  town.   They  are  described  as  approximately  four  feet  tall, White,  male,  with  coal  eyes,  carrot  noses  and  no  hair.  They  do   not  pose  any  threat,   however, as  Blackpool’s  salty,  sea  air  caused  them  to  melt  away  in  despair.”

“Back  to  the  programme.”

Those  born  in  Blackpool  are  called  Sand  Grown  ‘Uns’.

Many  are  conceived   in  the  sand  dunes  and  arrive  in  other  places,

“When   they  return  for  holidays,  are  they  classed  as  Aliens?”

 Latest   update:

ALIENS

Appearing

Locally

In

Every

Nightclub

Soon

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The meanderings of Buddy

 by Ailsa Osborne

Hello, my name is Buddy and my mum is called Ailsa. Some other people call her mum but they don’t live with us they just turn up sometimes. Usually it’s just mum and me. I am a dog apparently and I have four strong legs but my mum only has two and one of them doesn’t work very well.
My mum calls me her Buddy and on a good day, when we are having a tummy tickling time, she tells me that I am her special little friend and the best buddy in the whole world. That makes me feel very special. Sometimes, when she has tripped over one of my bones or toys, she shouts at me and I don’t feel so special then.
Apparently I am the smallest from a group of four puppies and my mum chose me as the best. One of my brothers lives a few streets away with mum's friend Dotty. She calls him Benji and we meet quite often. Mum calls him ‘Scruff’ as he has long hair whereas mine is quite short.

When I first came to live here my mum says I was white all over except for a black and brown patch over one eye. Lots of people thought that my name was Patch but mum said that was too ordinary and I deserved a more unusual name. She told me that Buddy means a special friend, one who shares the good times and the not so good ones too.
When I was little mum used to take me out on her electric scooter. There was a basket on the front and I sat on a cushion in it and mum held my lead. It was exciting whizzing along with my ears flapping about, nose tingling and eyes watering. When the weather was bad I sat between her feet where it was cosier. No more flapping ears!

One day recently she went out without me on her scooter and came back with what she called an electric wheel chair. Unfortunately this thing doesn’t have a basket or a cave by her feet so now I have to walk everywhere. When we cross a road she taps her knee for me to jump up for a rest but then she pushes me back down again just as I’m getting comfy. One day when we were out one of the wheels knocked me over just as I stopped to investigate a really interesting smell. I don’t make that mistake anymore.

We have some exciting times and some dreary staying in times like when she hurt her arm and a bed had to be put in the front room. We had to stay in for weeks as she had broken a bone. 

I don’t break bones but I do like to chew them! 

We passed the time cuddled up together with her telling me stories of another dog who she called Dennis the menace. He went to a place called the P.D.S.A. but he never came home again.

A few weeks ago she told me we were going out in a taxi and when we got in she said, “P.D.S.A. please," to the driver. 

I was really worried. Was she going to leave me there like she did Dennis? It turned out to be an exciting place with lots of interesting smells and dogs of all colours and sizes. Some came in boxes or cages and looked a little bit different to the ones who walked in. I was getting confused with all the noises they made so I decided to join in too.

After a while I was taken into a little room and lifted onto a table. A person was pulling my lips up and down, opening my mouth  and staring into my eyes. Then I felt like I was going to do a ‘whoopsy’ right there on the table but it was something the lady had pushed inside me. Cheeky thing!

Finally I had to stand on just two legs like my mum does while this lady pressed and poked me around my tail. My mum held me up and let them do this to me!  I was shocked and embarrassed. If I’d known they would do that then I would have licked myself more down there before we left.
Now I know why Dennis didn’t want to live here anymore.
Little did I know then but worse was to happen a few weeks later.
But that’s another story . . .

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Blackpool Tower Rocks

 by Dorothy Gibbons

It was a cold wet winter's morning. Snow lay softly on the ground. We loved trying to catch snowflakes as they whirled their way downwards. 

Dad's words echoed in our ears, “What a hellish day to drive to Blackpool.” Such a grump. 

So we all ignored him as this was our Christmas trip highlight of every year. A day in the Tower! Going to see the pantomime, dancing in the ballroom, bouncing in the balls at Jungle Jim’s. This year there was another attraction: The Tower Dungeons.

Would we be brave enough for a voyage into the darkness? Creepy, very very creepy, we thought.

Off we went singing our favourite car song: Puff the Magic Dragon. Why that one? Because he lived by the sea.

Leaving Leeds behind down the motorway and heading to our favourite destination, good old Blackpool, there was always a prize for who could see Blackpool Tower first. Who would win this year's prize? Only time would tell.

We stopped for lunch. We only wanted to reach Blackpool so all of us ate quickly to continue on our journey. Approaching Blackpool Tom saw the tower before me so that was the first argument of the day. He wanted a stick of yummy Blackpool rock and we went to the rock shop before going to our hotel to book in. The smell was so fruity and we got to taste some rock - we all got a different flavour each. 

The next stop was when we arrived  at our hotel: The Royal Sea Bank. We were greeted by the manager and were shown to our rooms. Excitement filled our room when we saw the mini Christmas tree decorated with dazzling balls and crackers. How we loved our turkey and tinsel break!

We had visited Blackpool for the previous nine years and it was like our second home.

Hurriedly we ran to mum's room.

“Can we go to see the tower, please?" 

Mum gave in to our begging and off we set along the glitzy promenade towards the tower, passing Coral Island - another favourite haunt of ours. But our eyes were gazing at nothing but the tower. We were desperate to visit and spend an action packed day there.

We were all early to bed that night as we wanted to be wide awake to spend our time enjoying all  the activities the tower had to offer. Hot cocoa, with marshmallows on top,  helped us relax for a good night's sleep.

In the morning we got up at the crack of dawn to go to shop for dad's paper and our pic 'n' mix. Down for breakfast Cocoa Pops and a fry-up always filled us until evening dinner. Now it was what we longed for: our trip up the tower.

We were laughing all the way up to the walk of faith. There was awesome blue sea and sand. We saw cars zooming along the busy promenade. Tom acted as though was the king of the castle and we all giggled. He looked through the spy view to see how far he could see. All the attractions were such fun and the day passed too quickly.

Sighing, we returned to hotel. Afterwards we all agreed we had enjoyed the pantomime circus best of all this year. It was Mooky's Winter Wonderland. 

 

Roll on next year's visit!

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A Unique Location

 by Alex Wilkinson

Lately there seems to have been a fixation with Blackpool in the media showing  high points and low points of the seaside resort. Blackpool as a town is a very odd place but, in these modern times, it seems to have lost a lot of what made it unique. Blackpool is a town trying to attach itself to anything it can to keep hold of what it once had. It’s a town in crisis and, as it tries to attract more and more new tourists, it is in danger of losing control of what it had.

Blackpool has not always been like this. It became a prominent destination back in the 1840s when the (then) village got its first railway. For the first time in history it connected the seaside resort with the industrialised north, providing a gateway of escape for the busy city workers of the major northern cities. The railway brought about major changes in Blackpool and over the following hundred years this small village boomed into one of the most desirable tourist destinations in the north of England.

A lot of Blackpool’s development has been on the back of the booming tourist industry which has allowed the town to develop from, essentially a few houses by the sea, into a bustling concrete jungle. The late 20th century however did impact upon Blackpool as technology superseded the railways and opened up new possibilities for Brits to travel abroad in a cheap and convenient manner.

It’s no surprise to anyone who has ever visited Britain but we generally don’t get the best of the weather here. Most of the year it will be raining and blowing a gale, only to lead into a week long summer before an even more turbulent time. If you want the sun you do not want to spend time in the UK. It’s quite obvious Blackpool cannot compete with Europe or the rest of the world for climate. But this is not to say it cannot compete at all.

Although the weather is indeed a factor, Blackpool like a great deal of the UK has a wealth of history and is brimmed full of relics from days gone by. Blackpool has many tourist hotspots including the piers, Blackpool Tower, Pleasure Beach, Winter Gardens, Grand Theatre, just to name the most prominent. Many of Blackpool's prestigious venues seem to be largely underutilized, with Blackpool Tower only recently getting renovated in a major more modern manner. The piers are nothing more than ageing relics of the town's past now dilapidated and under used. The Winter Gardens is yet another example of a prime venue used sparingly when, in fact, this should be one of the crowning jewels of Blackpool.

Blackpool needs to start looking past its dated image of being a seaside resort and start to embrace change. The town has a lot of prime real estate and a great deal of history. Blackpool needs to become a town attracting a new audience for any weather and not be content selling itself short as just a place to get wasted on a weekend.

It is of course nice to imagine long hot summer that will drive tourism up in Blackpool. However, in reality, this is a rarity and we need to start focusing more on venues under a covered roof that reflect what people want in the 21st century.

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The Last Ride

by Alan Wilkinson



The Pleasure Beach was closing as we left the Horsehoe Bar and headed, not for the exit, but for the famous Ghost Train. It was our staff do and I’d arranged this as a surprise.
“Right team it’s not compulsory, you don’t have to be scared witless we won’t mock you at work tomorrow if you don’t come on board. Jane you’re coming on?” shouted Bill.

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it for …I’ll think of something.”
Bill pushed his way through,”Ill sits next to you Jane, protect you from the Hooded Claw.”
“It's you I need protection from “I said, secretly I was assuming he would want to sit with me. Tonight he was chasing me, for a change.
“Is everybody here?” asked Sue, the Pleasure Beach Organiser. ”The Ghost Train's waiting.” Sue opened the gate to the platform. “This way everybody, careful with those drinks you shouldn’t really bring drinks onto the ride.”
I looked around to make sure everyone was in the queue, “No pushing guys, remember you’re English” I chided.”
“I’m not English," said Prakesh from accounts.
“Nor am I”, said Dai from Wales.
“Oh well! You don’t want us to show you up, so queue like your English.” I climbed aboard, deliberately flashing a leg, for Bill.
“Think I need protection from you,” said Bill swigging a bottle of wine.
“No one's forcing you to sit with me.”
“Mm this carriage is cosy,” said Bill climbing in all over me
“It's cramped now,” I said.
“Here we go,” Prakesh shouted from the front carriage.
As the train lurched into the dark tunnel everyone screamed a rite of passage into the darkness. And Bill jumped on me.
The train rattled along in the darkness, the ones in the front cars signposting with screams the next scary moment.
Then the train stopped. Mock and real screams intermixed. Bill and I barely noticed at first: bare being the operative word.
“Hello feels like we’ve stopped “
“Honey, I’ve just started,” Bill said, cheesily. “All part of the fun, I suppose.“
“I didn’t plan this,” I said. “Slow down, Bill I think we should wait 'til it starts again. Then again, the Ghost train makes me feel very sexy.”
“Me too. Jane just jump out quickly, I need to readjust your clothing, it’ll only take a minute”
“OK. I’ll help you get those tights off. Hey the train's moving.”
“Damn! I cant chase it. Not with my tights around my ankles."
“This is your fault, Jane.”
“Mine? Get lost. Geesh! OK, let's follow the track.” I swore inwardly at Bill and awkwardly pulled my tights back up.
“Look there’s an exit sign,” Bill said.
“Ok”, I said. “Let me look. My smart phone has got a light on it. Hey slow down. I think there’s a…”
“I want to get back on the... Ow! Damn! There’s a drop. I’ve slipped down, I’m OK but my ankle's sore. I think I can walk.”
“I was about to say there’s a drop on the other side of the door.”
“Not soon enough, Jane. Thanks very much, come and help me.”
“I think I can get down. Made it. There’s more track here, Bill. Might even be a bit of the original Ghost Train Sue mentioned.”
“And look, Jane. That might be an old Ghost Train tableaux.”
“Wow, two fake skeletons in a carriage with a message pinned to it,” I said, touching the message.
“What does it say?”
“It's just a prop Bill. My light's fading and we need to phone. Let's take the message with us.”
“Give Sue a ring. They’ll be getting worried.”
“I doubt they’re as worried as us ...I cant get a signal, all this metal and concrete or just a flattish battery.”
“How on earth do we get out of here? Jane, this is your fault?”
“Thanks for that. Follow this tunnel it must lead somewhere.”
“We shouldn’t have gone through that exit door,” Bill whined
“OK. OK." Annoyed I shook off his clutching hand.
“Jane, don’t let go of my hand.”
“You're right. It's so dark and we need to hold on to each other. Look which way there’s a branch line?”
“Listen a voice calling.”

this way 

“Down there, c’mon doesn’t sound far.”
We hurried on along old track to another exit door and on the other side through a storage area and up some stairs. We were back at the train station, everyone laughing, talking. They seemed not to have missed us, even though we’d been ages in that wretched tunnel.
“Phew! Hello guys. Anybody missed us?” I asked.
“We know what you were doing,” came the bawdy reply.
“No. When the car stopped we got out to see if we could shift it and as we did the train left without us.”
“I was alone in the dark with Jane.”
“We'd figured that much you lucky beast.”
“No. We were lost. It wasn’t fun. It was Jane’s fault never use her as a guide.”
”Yes guys. I got us lost. But we found a lost section of the old Ghost train."
“Really, that’s interesting,” said Sue.
“Yes we came across an old tableau two skeletons in a carriage on the old track with a large message pinned on the carriage.”



“We couldn’t read it down there so we brought it out. Here, Sue, it's quite old and might be a prop from the old Ghost Train. You might want to frame it.”
“Thanks Jane. Wow give me some more light to see…"

Help if you read this message please rescue us were stuck down a siding Suddenly all the lights went out and never came on again-we wrote this by the light of a rag we burned. Just might be able to find a hole or something to push the message through 

“Spooky”, said Sue I thought I knew all the tableaux old and new, but I’ve never come across this one I thought all the old Ghost Train was ripped out in 1936, when the Pleasure Beach decided to install a larger Ghost Train. But I'll frame this and put it in the station area."

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This Was My Blackpool In ’68

 by Pamela Winning

Taking a tram from North Pier to Starr Gate.

A summer of fun and staying up late.

This was my Blackpool in ’68.

Anne, Auntie Kath and me, all holding hands

Crossing the Prom' to get on to the sands

Where the grumpy deckchair man always stands.

This was my Blackpool in ’68.

We were young ladies with panache and style,

Playing the penny arcades for a while,

Frittering our spends on the Golden Mile.

This was my Blackpool in ’68.

Spinning the waltzers three times in a row.

Make it go faster, we don’t like it slow,

And then the man said, “That’s it, off you go!”

This was my Blackpool in ’68.

Out to a summer show, straight after tea.

Engelbert tonight at the ABC,

A backstage delight for my mum and me.

This was my Blackpool in ’68.

Got to get ready, there’s no time to lose!

My trendiest outfit is what I will choose…

A pink ‘Biba’ dress with bright orange shoes.

This was my Blackpool in ’68.

We wanted peace, love and flower power,

Charlie Cairoli and Blackpool Tower,

Seaside and sunshine for hour after hour.

This was my Blackpool in ’68.

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BOMB/BOMBARDIER

 by Anne Ward

Psst! Bomb here! Bombardier!  Blackpool's  new  tram

Purple  and  cream,

Cruising  down that  track  like  Mr  Whippy's  ice  cream

11   miles   of  coastline,  suits  me  just  fine

I  came  from  Germany,  cost  a  great  deal  of  money

Start  at  Squire's  Gate  and  go  to  Fleetwood  Ferry  everyday

Very  windy  here,  no  shelter,  not  even  from  Blackpool's three piers

Sand on  my  wheels,  heavy  rain on my  windows

My  driver  safe  in  his  cockpit,  thinks  he's  on  Star  Trek

With  seats  of  blue  and hand rails if yellow

I  am  a  handsome  fellow

My  passengers  enjoy  comfort  and  sea  views,

Room for  all,  trollies, wheelchairs,  prams, too

Taking  them  form  hotel  to  Pleasure Beach,

So  many new  staff  to  teach

What's that? Have I gone back in time?

Something  strange on the other line

Its  brown and cream, looks  real  mean,

Two  levels,  an  outside stairway

Got  to  run, must  hurry,

The  Big  (T)  66  Special  is  following   me.

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What's wrong with Blackpool Tower?

 by Anne Ward

* “What's happened to the Tower?"

* Why isn’t it light all the way up?”

* “How do we get in?”

These are just a few of the questions I have been asked about Blackpool Tower. 

Once this majestic building was an iconic landmark of the North West. Standing more than 518ft tall and visible for miles around Blackpool Tower is famous all over the world. But now, with the steel rods and netting surrounding it, Blackpool Tower looks less like a listed building and more like a sore finger wrapped in a bandage.

I remember, as a child, learning to dance the waltz so that my father could take me round the Tower ballroom floor. The ballroom was famed for its specially sprung floor, to improve performance; its beautifully painted ceilings; and the Wurlitzer organ which came up through the stage.

I remember going to my first circus show at Blackpool Tower, where a polar bear swam in seawater that came in via a pump under the floor. The polar bears were joined by sea-lions: an awe inspiring sight to a 10 year old from an inland village.

I also remember, on the ground floor of the tower building, there was the aquarium with a large electric eel, wending its way around the enormous tank.

As an adult I bumped into Judith Chalmers filming for The Holiday Programme. Judith climbed to the top of Blackpool Tower, in the rain, and crossed the Walk Of Faith.

All these events, and more, are part of the way I remember Blackpool Tower's history.

Nowadays the front entrance is covered with a blue screen and the doors are very often locked. This is not a welcoming site.

I think it's time that the town planners and governing bodies  mended  Blackpool Tower, healed its wounds and opened it up again to entice those much needed tourists. I think it's time to give us locals our main attraction back, restored in all its glory, so we can be proud to talk about Blackpool Tower. 

After all, first impressions count and are remembered.

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