Thursday, July 26, 2007
I like to pop into my St. James club on a Wednesday night for a game of billiards (oh, alright then, it's a local workingman's club in Peel Street and it's snooker) and this week we saw an interesting notice pinned up next to the cue rack.
'Holidays in Blackpool. £99.
Seven nights accommodation.
To include transport, breakfast and evening meals.'
Eddie and I did some quick sums on our fingers, and two little light bulbs went on simultaneously - a veritable illumination. My God, (we said), if you went on holiday to Blackpool every week of the year it'd come to less than five grand! For about the price of renting a Leeds bedsit you could be beside-the-seaside-beside-the-sea, and living like a Regent! Forever!
No council tax, no house insurance, no more cooking or laundry or washing up. There'd probably be a 'turn' on most nights...'Jayde Crystal at the Organ' or 'Foxi McPhee and her Furry Friend' or whatever...
OK, so you'd have to find your lunch, but I expect they'd whip you up an egg sandwich if you asked. We could do a bit of busking during the day, make a few quid, and then spend the evenings as boulevardiers, sitting at cafe tables and idly stirring our demi-tasses with a stick of Blackpool rock. How wonderful!
So. The house goes on the market this morning, and the wife and kids can start whittling clothes pegs for all I care. I'm on the corner waiting for the charabanc.