1 Lfbuk opens this evening with a look at the powerful northern resorts of yesteryear:
Blackpool has lost its way over the years, it now does not know what it is anymore, in days gone by the annual wakes weeks were a boon with thousands of mill workers from Oldham, Blackburn, Wigan, Burnley and other Northern towns, travelling to the coast on their annual pilgrimage to get some sea and sand. These annual holidays made
Blackpooland other northern resorts. As the years passed the wakes weeks came to die out aided with the advent of packaged holidays,cheaper travel, and cheaper flights meant it was affordable for the working man to travel to benidorm and the Costa Del sol, where you were guaranteed the sun, something that Blackpoolcould not boast.
2 Asadodo touches on a subject dear to my heart - the good old train which was a train, as distinct from a magnetically rail bound rocket:
The Slow Train will be buried at the
3 Bag's Rants makes the connection between IQ and crisps:
Now I was amazed that someone with an IQ of 75 was able to come up with a plan like this. I thought a fairly intelligent rock had a higher IQ. But after looking around the web it seems that it is not the case. 75 may be on the low end of the scale but it seems anything below that need constant care and can't be left on their own.
So my real question is that why does someone with an IQ like this get left alone with a child while the rest of the world worry about social services taking their kids because they are allowed to have crisps?
4 Ingsoc, as in 'Crushed by', has a dilemma of epic proportions over some lent money:
I had a phone call today from a friend.Basically, she wanted to borrow a fair amount of money to pay a deposit for a house to rent. Well to be fair, she didn't ask. I ended up offering. I suppose I have kind of a soft spot for her, and I think she knows it. Unfortunately or not, this is what I can't work out, she took me up on the offer. She text me letter to say she'd cried over it.
Problem is those nagging doubts. I'm sure she would make every effort to pay back as soon as she could. The money is doing a better thing giving her a hand now than making me an accomplice to usury. But it's slightly more than, worst case scenario, I'd feel comfortable writing off. I'd rarely bet that much money.
I went along last year and much concern was expressed from the PR guys about how businesses would be able to handle negative comments. Let’s see what difference a year makes, if they have learned that in fact it is a blessing to know about a problem that needs addressing - and preferably sooner, rather than later. I had only been blogging for about six weeks when I went and felt so exhilarated and inspired when I left.
I shall be up and off before the milkman has a chance to put his cap on - he still exists in these parts. I thought you might like to see the agenda with all the keynote speakers.
6 Finding Life Hard? Liz and Harvey are here to help with a double dose of blog-blogging advice:
I've noticed that a number of blogs now blow their own trumpets and include testimonials. Not wanting to be left behind I've decided to do the same. If you look over to the left - provided I've been able to work out how to do it - you'll see mine.
Liz and Harvey continue their focus on blogging:
Okay, other people might get more hits than I but how many can say their blog was found by someone googling for 'profound thoughts'? I knew recognition would come my way eventually! The moral is obvious: if you're seeking profundity ignore the A-listers; instead read the thoughts of me and my dog.
7 Matt, of Buckeye Thoughts, is getting a bit philosophical in his old age. The simple prose is worthy of any Eastern religion:
It was supposed to rain today (as it was yesterday). Neither happened (or in the case of today has yet to happen). Instead, it's 71 degrees Fahrenheit, more or less, cloudy skies, and a nice breeze. I call it, the calm before the non-existent storm.
8 It was with some trepidation that I began to read Mutterings and Meanderings' piece on cherries but it's a good way to wind up this Blogfocus.
Cherries, I have to confess, are one of my favourite things. Unnaturally red ones on cocktail sticks in drinks, sticky glace ones that go into cakes and luscious fresh ones: red, two-tone and especially the black ones. What could be more marvellous than having them on tap during the summer, ripened and warmed by the sun, just waiting to be plucked from the tree? That was my reasoning about five or six years ago, when, in the depths of winter, I ventured into the alien territory of the garden centre to pick out a cherry tree.
See you Saturday evening, I hope. Bye for now.