Ahh ... Blackpool

It's only Thursday, but for me this is the end of the week. I have Friday off work, as well as next Monday. Last weekend me and wifey saw my mother, this weekend we're off up north to see my in-laws. While my mother is in her mid-fifties (though getting to late fifties I think), Jo's mother is in her early seventies and her father is in his late-sixties. Neither of them drive, and we haven't seen them since New Year, so we're taking them to Blackpool for a few days. We go to Blackpool with them at least once a year. It is close to where they live, and they like Blackpool.

I like Blackpool. It has the Pleasure Beach for starters, which has the Pepsi Max Big One - Europe's biggest roller-coaster I believe, and Valhala - possibly Europe's wettest ride. It is also the home of Lionel Vinyl, surely the best 70s disco DJ there is (though admittedly we found his new Inferno club quite disappointing). In the evening it is nice to stroll down the Promenade, pop into a few arcades to play on the 2p machines, then find a nice pub to relax in.

Blackpool must also have some of the biggest people in the UK. The streets are crowded with waddling behemoths, as though the city is a giant fat magnet. I guess the choice of eating places doesn't help out here, it must be impossible to eat out in Blackpool and not have chips (not that I'm bothered by this, as my previous entries on chips make clear). Blackpool is also a mecca for hen and stag parties, with huge groups of men dressed as nuns and girls dressed as tarts. Ahh ... Blackpool! It's as tacky as they come, but it just has such a fun atmosphere and God help me, I love it.

The Supernaturalist

After my last entry I just want to make clear that this blog is not called Diary of a Supernaturalist because of my theological interests. Neither does it indicate any desire on my part to remove my clothes in public. It is named after a Divine Comedy song, Death of a Supernaturalist. I decided to call the blog Diary of a Supernaturalist rather than Death of a Supernaturalist, mainly because I am not dead, also because I don't plan to become dead for a while. Anyway, the lyrics are:

"My father says there's only one perfect view -
and that's the view of the sky over our heads"
"I expect your father has been reading Dante"

See my solitude, where once was truth now only doubt
Touch my tortured skin, torn from within and from without
Kiss my blistered lips, my fingertips frost-bitten and grey
Heal my wound within, and watch the dead skin fall away

See what can't be seen, between the table and the chair
Touch what can't be touched, The National Trust don't own the air
Kiss what can't be kissed, this is the risk we have to take
Heal what can't be healed, and feel the dead skin fall away

Only you and I know exactly how it feels
To unblinker a narrow mind
And by doing so reveal the obscurity of life
The intensity of dreams
Only you and I have realised exactly what it means

See the infant sun, whose time has come to climb the mist
Touch the autumn sky, burned by the supernaturalist
Kiss the purest lips, the morning slips into the day
Rising from the bed, we feel our dead skin fall away

I have read that the song's title is a reference to an anthology of poems by Seamus Heaney called Death of a Naturalist. Apparently the anthology has a self-discovery theme, as has the song. If I wanted to be pretentious I could say that I chose the title for my blog because I see the writing of a blog as an exercise in self-discovery. The truth is that I just like the sound of the title.