Day 11 of our recent travels.
If anything, we were cutting it finer for breakfast this morning than yesterday, but we had packed and put most of the stuff in the car before getting breakfast. As usual there was more to try and cram into the car than was taken out on arrival. Something about too many giftshops.
It is amazing just how many tat shops there are in Betws. We are doing that souvenir shopping on departure thing. I hadn’t noticed how many there were, well hadn’t taken it in. The only thing that was really different between them was the price, as some of them didn’t seem to realise they were tat shops.
And then it was time to leave Wales. We let the lunatic sat-nav lead us across to England via a strange route full of bears that weren’t bears and turns that weren’t turns. I think she needs drug testing. We stop at a services on the M6 which is rammed. I’m not sure I’ve seen queues to get in quite like this before.
When we arrive at my mum’s, there is a new world record (and not at the Olympics either) as there is at least half an hour between arriving and being offered food. But food does eventually come with the earliest dinner we’ve had in months. After which Helen and I go for a wander around Morecambe.
I do wonder if I’ve walked around with my eyes shut when I’ve been before. Every time. We end up over near the train station, where what used to be Frankie & Benny’s is now an empty shell. Fully deserved if you ask us after their treatment of us on a previous visit to Morecambe. We head toward the Midland and find there is a walk of words along there, one that was installed 15 years ago and that I’ve never seen before, despite having walked across or along it several times.
We get to the front and walk back along it in the general direction of my mum’s house. In doing so I notice other things that were there before, but I’d missed. Like the turrets on the corner buildings either side of West End Road. Like the Battery being closed and boarded up (nearly 10 years). The large church on the corner of West Street being abandoned, with no signs saying what the dedication of the church was.
There is a brief detour onto the beach and over some rocks. Some irregular steps so that the day could count as a day out. And there it is, the now daily fatbit celebration, we can head back to mum’s and relax for the evening.