Seaside resorts, as a rule, freak me out. I don’t mean the pretty, picturesque seaside towns like those down in Cornwall – I mean the big, nasty resorts like Blackpool. I just find there’s something really sinister about them, and I get the same feeling about joke shops and fancy dress shops.
Last weekend I had the pleasure of a trip to Skegness (also known as SkegVegas to its mates) for my dad’s 65th birthday. I didn’t want to be ungrateful because my mum and dad really wanted myself and my sister to join them for the weekend to celebrate his birthday, so I decided I needed to quiet my inner snob, who just wanted to turn her nose up at anything and everything in sight. Instead, I took the good-humoured approach and enjoyed a fair few comedy moments throughout the weekend.
My highlights included the three-course evening meal in our B&B – a starter of garlic mushrooms and a main of chicken pie with an object that was allegedly a roast potato but bore no resemblance to a potato, followed by a slice of half-frozen Sara Lee strawberry cheesecake – all served at breakneck speed, plus the brilliant advertisement for the performance of ‘excellent male vocalist’ Bob London and the competition we devised amongst ourselves to see who could win the most tat from the two-pence slot machines.
I thought I’d share with you some pictures from the weekend…
Chicken pie and rock, I mean, roast potato – bon apetit!
For one English pound, Psychic Sarah will read your aura and reveal your destiny.
Some freaky topiary going on outside someone’s house.
Just brilliant in every single way.
Jenny on a Plate 