The last time I saw the Lights, I was probably about eight. My nose pressed up against the glass peering out at the illuminations, transfixed through the raindrops. Debbie, my younger sister and I were happily ensconced in the back of our grandparents car where we’d been deposited for the week and this was the highlight of our holiday with them. Roll on a few years and action replay, Blackpool illuminations provided the warm up for our Saturday night entertainment during the bi-annual British Naturism National Convention & AGM and they still have the power.
I travelled up from Buckinghamshire the day before the Convention began. The main motorway infastructure in the UK is heaving and predictably it was a slow, painful process. Finding the Melville Hotel wasn’t that easy either, with a multitude of one way roads but the ever-helpful member of night staff Shaun talked me in and helped me unpack.
Shaun was acting as porter, receptionist, barman, cook, waiter. I settled down with a good home cooked meal and a large glass of red to take in the surroundings.