William Cook

Fortune tellers, pound shops and Orville: why I love Blackpool

It’s easy to take the piss out of this seaside town, says William Cook, but people keep coming back so it must be doing something right

issue 13 December 2014

‘Jesus is the light of the world,’ reads the sign outside Blackpool’s Central Methodist Church, but all along the promenade the lights are going out. I’d returned to my favourite seaside resort to catch the end of the Illuminations, an annual attraction that brings several million visitors here every year. Since 1879, this vast canopy of fairy lights has stretched Blackpool’s summer season into autumn, flooding the seafront with ‘artificial sunshine’. But even Blackpool, with all its razzamatazz, can’t turn winter into summertime. From the Central Pier to the South Pier, the Illuminations are now all dormant. Only a modest cluster remains, between the Tower and the North Pier. It feels like a fitting metaphor for the shifting fortunes of Britain’s biggest seaside town. Ever since the railway arrived, in 1846, tourists have been pouring into Blackpool. But now the tide of history is flowing the other way.

In the history of British entertainment, Blackpool is unique.

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