We went to Blackpool for four days. It was miserable, it was awful, it was dreadful.
What was? The weather?
The hotel, the weather, the place itself. I mean Blackpool in the winter months, when, you know when it’s vibrant in the summer when it’s full you never notice that the pubs are run down, you were sticking to the carpets but of course in the winter months … The hotel was absolutely disgusting, the rain was coming in, we broke the bed!
We got charged for using two beds, cos the other one was broken. We were feeding this gas meter and as soon as we put the money in, it was disappearing. We got friendly with another couple from Wigan, they’d just got married, they said they hadn’t put any in, I said ‘I think we’re feeding yours then!’ They were in the next room to us.
The people in the hotel were feeding pensioners and of course these were virile young men – ‘can we have some more please’ and she was really arrogant, charging extra for bread. I think we had about thrupence when we came back – we had to come back, we’d run out of money!
The most exciting thing about that honeymoon was watching the Blackpool Players running on the beach, football players, training. The rest of it was, ooh, a nightmare.
Now, I had my first child nine months and three days after the wedding …