I’m having trouble turning over in bed this morning, thanks to the re-broken/bruised ribs. Not good. Luckily I have no race this weekend. Things aren’t so bad once I'm upright just as long as I don’t cough, sneeze or laugh and keep breathing to a minimum. Other than that they're fine.
Later L picks me up from work and we head north. I’ve found some fool of a B&B owner who will take us and the boys in Blackpool. Which is roughly where we have two dog shows and a run this weekend. It’s a quaint little place, almost romantic, if we hadn't brought the dogs. A weekend without them would be nice but I’d look a bit daft at the dog shows.
Well, we try to head north. We join the M6 at Stoke and then queue from there all the way to Blackpool. Curse the good weather. 4 hours is a new personal worst.
When we finally get there and Blackpool is horrendous. Full of people. Families, drunks, Scots, the lot. We wander round looking for somewhere to buy fish and chips, there's plenty of those and then somewhere nice to eat them, there's none of them. The seafront would be a nice location if it’s wasn’t fully booked and there wasn’t a massive traffic jam, known as the illuminations traffic blocking the way to it.
There’s absolutely no chance of finding a bar that sells anything you’d want to drink or in fact one that isn’t offering karaoke. We head back to the hotel and enjoy some wine from the bar there, sitting on the front veranda. Quite pleasant actually. Then some more contraband wine in the room, as alcohol is not allowed in the rooms.
(Friday 30th September)
Hopping along at the farm, to Sir Tom
12 hours ago