Sep 24
Lancaster to Southport
A better night’s sleep and the forecast rain hadn’t yet appeared. I bought a paper at the newsagent’s over the road & walked the empty streets to a café. I had a bacon roll, not brilliant, and a coffee. I returned to the hotel, checked out and left my bag at reception. I then sat on a comfy chair killing time until the Museum opened at 10.00 and the rain commenced. It was still warm outside.
As I left the hotel, it was drizzling. I made my way down the main street, exploring the malls and anywhere with an awning. The Museum entrance portico was providing shelter to the local alcoholics, not an encouraging sign. The umbrellas that I had spotted yesterday were decorative but useless as a shelter from the rain. I did take a photo and otherwise left my camera in its bag and out of the rain.
Having not long had a coffee, I opted for a green tea in a café and negotiated for some healthy fruit and a yoghurt. They were very good and I watched the rain becoming increasingly heavy as I ate and drank.
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The Museum was good. Lots of stuff, lots of models and lots of written information. It covered both the city and the local regiment so there was plenty to keep me entertained.
I left after 40 minutes. It was still drizzling lightly but I returned to the hotel to collect my bag. I completed the short walk to the station and awaited my train.
Right: The weather wasn't improving |
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This turned out to be an express. Three stops to Warrington and then non-stop to London. I found a seat without difficulty and wrote my diary. At the speed we were travelling in the dark and the drizzle, there was little point in playing photography.
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Wigan NW Station was large on the inside but nothing much to look at from the street. Wigan Wallgate turned out to be about 200 yards along and on the opposite side of the road. It had an older and more elegant frontage but was small and pokey on the inside.
Because I had caught an earlier train from Lancaster, I was able to catch an earlier train than planned to Southport.
This was old but clean, rather resembling a four carriage bus. The line went straight across the farmland of Central Lancashire. Lots of fields full of crops and signs of the richness of the soil. Rain fell almost throughout.
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Southport Station was large with several trains covered in graffiti. Closer examination revealed these to be Merseyrail trains and the markings to be the official decoration.
It was drizzling as I walked past a huge memorial and along the main street lined with elegant buildings. I didn’t bother to take photos as that could wait until I had abandoned my bag.
The hotel (another Travelodge) turned out to a retired station, resplendent with a large tower. I left my bag there and, with the rain falling increasingly heavily, I sought refuge in the greasy spoon next door. They were really friendly and sold me an unhealthy lunch of tinned/dried soup, a cheese sandwich and tea. I sat by the window and watched the puddles grow outside.
When I had finished my lunch, the drizzle appeared to have eased so I crossed the road to photograph the wide footpath, the trees and the flowers. All very tasteful.
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A bandstand with fountain was exciting and it was whilst approaching this that I slipped on the wet pavement and nearly did both myself and my camera a severe injury. Luckily, I saved myself before I hit the floor but it was alarming and caused me to snap the bit of elastic which secured the lens cap to the lens.
The main library is in a magnificent building and supposedly houses a tourist information office. A few leaflets hardly qualifies for this status but there was a map on the wall so I was able to locate the restaurant I had thought of for tonight.
On the other side of the road, I explored the main shops with their elegant glazed canopies and wrought ironwork.
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They reminded me of many of the buildings in Ilkley and Keighley. There was even a very posh looking arcade, although quite a number of the units were closed.
I located the Millennium Bridge – my second in three days – but which was closed for a month, presumably for maintenance. I was about to head to the sea via the pier when I saw the weather approaching me at speed. I beat a hasty retreat and resumed my search for the restaurant. I finally located it down a narrow side street not far from the station. |
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Over the road is the war memorial, consisting of an obelisk flanked by two colonnades, and opened in 1923. There is even a pool of reflection, although that was far too murky for any reflections. It is as magnificent a war memorial as I have seen anywhere.
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I made my way back to the hotel, bought some oranges at the supermarket in order to improve my diet, and checked in. The guy on reception was charming and gave me room 106. I complained that I had occupied room 206 on each of the previous days but he said that I was better off on the first floor.
Once organised, I set off through the supermarket car park towards the sea. I found a lovely lake in Princes Park, with bridges and swans. What I couldn’t find was a route past the seaside entertainments – closed for the winter and looking tatty – to the sea.
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I finally crossed some busy roads, passed a fine elevated fish sculpture and found myself on a sea wall overlooking a sea of mud. I certainly wouldn’t want to build sandcastles there. I don’t know how long it will take to remove the white van that was parked. I returned to the main promenade, lined with smart hotels. This part of town looks more like a typical seaside resort.
I walked back into the centre and found a small café which was still open. The coffee wasn’t great but the lady behind the counter was. She was 70, had survived a brain haemorrhage and stopped to go outside to cuddle her baby, a huge, hairy Alsatian, who was sticking his head out of the window of a car parked outside. He was a magnificent creature. She gave me suggestions on a restaurant, there being an excellent fish place about a hundred yards away. I found it, examined the menu and, back at the hotel, examined the reviews. It passed on both scores. I had a rest at the hotel and prepared for dinner.
At 18.30 I set off for the five minute walk to the restaurant. En route, I passed the rear of the band stand that I had photographed earlier. The wall plaque informed me that this one had been constructed recently to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Marks & Spencer.
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The restaurant, The Forge, is in an unprepossessing building down a narrow side street. If I hadn’t been told about it, I wouldn’t have found it. Both food and service were good – a marked contrast to last night – and I walked home feeling full.