24 hours in Southport


Southport pier

Southport.  An hour’s drive from Blackpool.

First stop a full English. Alarm bells should have rung when the cook delved into the deep freeze and extracted four. I daren’t hazard a guess at the constituents of these specimens. Scrapings from the butcher’s apron come to mind; doubt a butcher had been anywhere near.  Inedible!

A good day mooching in Southport; evening gig at the theatre followed by a few beers;  a comfortable guest house for b&b.

My second full English in 24 hours and there it is again.  Lurking between the fried egg and baked beans. One bite and the remainder has to be smuggled away in a napkin, ruining the makings of an otherwise good breakfast.

I’m off sausages.


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