Fracked?

Fracked?

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Each day brings new challenges and from tomorrow, there will be an extra one each week in the form of an email resulting from a course I’ve signed up for. A Year with my Camera is a free, year-long online class aimed at beginners, but also those people like me whose main objective is to explore the full potential of their camera and not stick on automatic, as I do. I’m up for the challenge - what’s to lose? The photo above is from the warm up exercise to post 30 images with a range of titles - that one was mine for “things in threes”.

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The weather has been so Springlike that it’s easy to forget that with a change of wind direction we can be back to wintry temperatures. So one day I’m taking a photograph of blossom under glorious blue skies and the next…

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well, let’s say an extra layer was needed.

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Thankfully it didn’t last long; just about long enough for me to nip outside and snap a picture.

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I could possibly have written a whole blog post on the joys of the M6, both North- and Southbound, but instead, I’ll focus on the bit in between which was far more fun.

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We spent the weekend with friends in the place where the streets are lined with sand (the clue’s in the title and photo link to this post)

The focus of our visit was to hear Mendelssohn’s Elijah, sung by the Lytham St Annes Choral Society of which our friend Olga is a member. It also gave us chance to have lunch and enjoy time with another dear friend, Linda at the Cartford Inn, where the young woman taking our order seemed to have advance information of all my Hero’s favourites when creating the daily specials. Though it’s sad we can’t meet Linda there more frequently, perhaps it’s just as well in terms of the calorie count and our waistlines.

The concert was great and returning “home” for late night drinks and nibbles, those of us staying over waved the vicar and his wife off sometime around 1.30am, temporarily forgetting the time change. It was a very gentle Sunday morning for us all, then and we eased ourselves into British Summer Time a little later than normal.

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With a lovely day outside though, tentative plans to visit some museum or other were shelved in favour of “fresh air and fun” and in the company of public transport professionals, there was no question about how we might get there.

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It’s some years since we were in Blackpool itself, even though we’ve been nearby in Lytham St Annes several times. I was going to say “it doesn’t change” and though that’s true in some respects, I felt the whole promenade area was looking a great deal smarter than the last time I was here.

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Our focus was the Comedy Carpet, a huge area filled with catchlines, jokes, funny stories and memories of comedians mostly remembered but some forgotten. Young and old alike were standing reading and giggling. “Have you seen this?”. “Oh, who said that…?”

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How appropriate to come across this little rant-ette, just after we’d sat around the kitchen table wondering “what next?” after the latest news from Westminster. Those “fracked” stickers on the traffic signs seemed more apt than ever.

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Whilst here, we thought we’d put our noses around the door of the Winter Gardens and though it was mostly closed and deserted it meant we could pay homage to a couple of old favourites.

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It’s a grand old building, still in need of more restoration to bring it up to date in a way to accommodate the needs of contemporary exhibitions and conferences. On a quiet Sunday afternoon, however, it was a haven of elegance compared with the lively street scene outside!

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Mothering Sunday probably wasn’t going to be the best day to look for a spontaneous bite to eat but we found a table at the Beach House for a slightly chaotic half hour!

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Given the company, of course we took the tram back…

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Such sweet friends with a long, shared history were as delighted as we were to have reason to crack open a bottle of champagne too and the six of us raised our glasses for a toast to Edward and Amy, newly engaged.

Fracked? Far from it!!

Now that April's here

Now that April's here

Sunday lunch

Sunday lunch