You can tell winter is on it's way when shadows are long in the afternoon, so I'm glad we ventured out with Joel to visit Michael in my hometown of Blackpool whilst we still have some fairly warm days. I don't really get out during the week so it's nice to do stuff as a family at the weekend.
We went for a good old wander around Stanley Park, possibly the best park I've ever been in. It made me realise what a treasure it is, a hidden one too as most people who visit Blackpool probably don't venture there, so it's really more for the residents.
There is allsorts to do putting, crazy golf, boating, slides and swings and trampolenes (which we were shocked at now costing £1 for 5 minutes!) It always makes me think of my childhood when I go there, I spent many an afternoon playing there, not wanting play time to end.
I always used to make extra effort to get a go on the crazy golf, mainly as it took a long time thus extending my 'park time' but also because it was a bit like miniatures. Oh I forgot to mention there is a separate model village there too, but that costs quite a bit so we didn't go in.
Each course has a lovely stencilled number next to it, you can see how different colours have been tried out over the years.
So some of the crazy courses resemble miniature landscapes.
Whilst some are more abstract! Not sure what this one is??
My favourite are still the miniatures. As a child I strode over them like a giant, for one afternoon a week I felt big.
|I always tried to hit the toadstools, I don't think that was the idea but it took up more time and made this one a bit like a pinball machine too|
|This one was always solid|
They have always been painted in the same five colours, each Spring it will be someones job to spruce the courses up and re stencil the numbers. I imagine them on the phone ordering ''toadstool red'' or ''castle yellow''.
I remembered how the highlight of the game wouldn't be winning but just spending as much time as possible with my dad with the added bonus of a squirrel lolloping across the course with an acorn in it's mouth, blissfully unaware of how big canons really are.