Blackpool's addictive tendencies.

A few weeks ago, I took the train to Cleveleys with my parents. We planned on walking along the coast to the next town over, Blackpool. It took us about two hours, including a pit stop for ice cream. Recreating a walk that my mum would do with her family when she was younger, in an attempt to save money, they would spend most of their holidays walking.

I've inherited a love-hate relationship with Blackpool from my parents, often joking about how I would love to never to step foot there again, although often find myself back, year after year. I spent a lot of my childhood in the arcades, begging my parents for another pound, or sitting on the beach with a blue-stained tongue from slushies, scoffing down sand-coated chips. 

For those who have never been, Blackpool is a seaside town, with a brown foamy sea, drowning in brightly coloured plastic toys and rusty illuminations that stay up year-round. From a child's point of view, this place was a Wonderland, full of cheap toys and stinking of warm, fresh doughnuts. But as an adult, you begin to see the needles and shattered glass. 

Blackpool has loyally been the getaway spot for my family for generations, holding my grandparents and great-grandparents' summer vacation in a vice lock. 

My grandad (on my dad's side) explained that “ It was called the wake weeks. So Bolton would shut down for the last Saturday of June for two weeks; the whole town shut down, the mills, factories (so all the machinery could be serviced), and everybody went on holiday. I used to sell papers on the street corners, because the paper shop would shut down too. Trains went from Bolton to Blackpool, and they were called the Blackpool Belle. You might've heard the song Blackpool Belle, it's a song about the train that they all went on, and everybody, and anybody you knew went to Blackpool.”

My grandad explained how this journey was special and viewed as quite the excursion. 

“I mean, you know, it's like parking in the streets now. You cannot park in front of your house because everybody's got two, three cars. Particularly in a terrace street. When I was little, I lived in a council estate, and my dad was the only person who had a car on our street.”

My grandma in front of Blackpool Tower on their yearly trip, est. 1960.

My dad used to go to Blackpool every Christmas after New Year's with the whole family to the Claremont hotel to finish the year off. My dad has always had a massive family, about 30 people, including his cousins, who would cram themselves into the once grand Claremont hotel. They would go to the arcades and the pier. It was cold because it was near Christmas, so they would have to wrap up. 

He said, “It always seemed like a magical place when you were a kid, but now that you're older, you can see the reality of the place. The lights and the memories with family made it seem magical.” He said he was in his 30s before he realised it wasn't so spectacular, “I do like Blackpool, even though it's a scummy place, it can be fun.”

My Mum, on the other hand, had a smaller family of five, and their dog Lassie. We had a caravan in Cleveleys, so we would go for the whole six-week holiday. We wouldn't go to Blackpool often because my dad wouldn't like spending money in arcades. We did go to the circus once, but he used to make us walk down the streets without the arcades, and then we wouldn't want to spend money.”

My mum and dad nearly crossed paths many times before their eventual meeting in Woolworths in 1998. But they more than likely walked past each other in Blackpool and Cleveleys on many occasions in their early teen years. Although my dad mostly went in the winter, he would go about three or four times a year. My dad said, “When the illuminations were on, we would get a bnb and walk up and down and look at the lights.”

 I asked my mum when she stopped seeing the beauty behind Blackpool. “It never felt magical, I think it's awful, it reminds me of Bolton, I don't like taking you a lot. I think your dad loves things from the memories of it.”

Can you tell me more about your memories of Blackpool?

My mum: “God, I remember, my dad was only ever happy when he was on holiday. And I never saw him laugh at home. He always laughed on holiday. And he'd come in late at night, because he still went out every night in Blackpool, and we stayed in a caravan every night, and he'd come in and we'd go for a walk on the beach, like, midnight. I remember this one time it was just me and my dad, and we lay on the pebbles. I just remember him being drunk and happy and being on pebbles. That's a massive memory that I don't know why… talking about his dog. He loved his dog. The caravan site was good. There was a clubhouse and a swimming pool. We didn't go much into the actual Blackpool town. You know?”

My dad talked about his memories in Blackpool Tower, “it was just sort of something we'd never been around before, it was just like wow, this is the best place.” 

When did you start to draw away from the idea of a holiday in Blackpool? 

My mum: “Well, I think we got rid of the caravan when I would have been about 13, and then I didn't go for a long time, probably till I met your dad, and we went for a day. I thought, God, why did we keep coming back here? It was just freezing. It's dirty and manky. I think when you're a kid, you see stuff with rose colored glasses. And then when you grow up, you see everything's dirty and rough and scary, especially when you bring in your kids here,”

How many times do you think you've been back since your first visit? 

My mum: “Well, quite a lot, since then I'd say 20 or 30 times” 

Why have you been back so many times despite your feelings for it? 

My mum: “It's the nearest beach… It's easy to get on the train… I don't know, it's a day out in the air, I suppose” 

My dad: “I like the craziness of it” 

Even though you made fun of it before?

My dad: “I did. I did. I know what it's like, and I know exactly what sort of place it is, but you can have fun there. I mean, there's just so much to do there. Just like if you want a mad night out, you can have a mad night out, if you want to go up the tower, you can. I love the Pleasure Beach. Some great rides on the Pleasure Beach. I think I also like people watching. When you see them all on the stag dos, the mad things that they do, yeah, it is a crazy place. It's somewhere you can have a laugh, and have a bit of fun.”

Do you have a love-hate relationship with Blackpool? 

Mum: Yeah, I do hate it, and I do love it. Definitely. I hate it. I didn't like it when we went in for grandma's birthday and there were needles on the floor outside our bnb.”

We went on to talk about the increasing prices despite Blackpool's downfall from a once glamorous getaway. As of 2025, crime rates have jumped to 163% of the national average. Even overtaking Glasgow in late 2024 to have the lowest average male life expectancy in the UK. 

Nevertheless, you won't be able to keep me or my family away from Blackpool for long, If I were to talk about all of our memories from Blackpool, this piece would be an hour-long read, but I do think it's fascinating that this small polluted seaside town has such an addictive grip on my family. Maybe it is just the accessibility price-wise, but I do think there is a certain charm to the drunken stag dos and peeling beachfront bnbs. Not knowing whether the creaking floorboards will snap underneath you while walking down the pier and hearing the entertainer's voice from each pier bar echo over the mulchy sand. Blackpool will always have a place in our hearts.