Seven Slebs A'Swinging

 

Hello again, dance fans. Ready for Christmas yet? Come on, it's fewer than four weeks away now - stop lollygagging. I've had the sprouts on since March! We usually go for a curry for Christmas Day dinner, but have decided to stay in this year. Sainsbury's food order is booked and SOTH can show off his Food Tech skills by lending a hand while I make a dent in the Baileys. Added bonus that we don't have to get dressed. I mean, dressed up. We don't sit around the house in the nuddy! Not with all that gravy and custard sloshing round. I do have some standards.

I keep meaning to do a 70s style Christmas dinner to show SOTH what I endured enjoyed growing up. Glass of orange juice with some sliced up melon & glace cherry for starter, then turkey that's been in the oven 'on a low light' since Christmas Eve and is now so dry it's its own fire hazard, veg boiled so long it's all one unidentifiable mush and roasties that are still hard in the middle. Trifle for afters and a bottle of Blue Nun or Mateus Rose to wash it all down. Seven hours in the kitchen, food demolished in ten minutes. Watch the speech, fall asleep, turkey butties for supper and a blazing row before ten o'clock. Sorted. I'm still bitter I never got an Adventure Kit because they were 'for boys'.

This year I had the brilliant idea of ordering the gifts from me to HOTH in my name, so that when they arrived we'd know whose was whose and not spoil surprises by opening the wrong parcel. Which would have been fabulous if not for the fact that HOTH forgot to swap the name back on the delivery details and so everything has arrived addressed to me. We've had to get SOTH to open everything and sort it into different boxes. Next year everyone's getting a satsuma and a bag of nuts in a stocking.

So, back to Strictly. While seven couples remain, only six were dancing on Saturday. Kym has fallen to the dreaded 'vid and gets a bye. Wishing her a speedy recovery. She's probably tucked up in bed with a bowl of chicken soup and a hot toddy, having her fevered brow mopped by a devoted Graz lucky mare.

Will & Nancy started the proceedings with a Charleston to Hush by Kula Shaker which, spookily, was on the radio while I was typing this first bit up. Not really a Charleston song, really. I mean, it doesn't exactly scream 'screwball comedy dance', does it? That's because this wasn't THAT kind of Charley-stone. Nancy & the choreographers took this dance in a different direction and dimension. If this is the future of Charleston I'm not complaining. It was slick, sharp, polished and precise. Absolutely in sync with one another, Will & Nancy hit every single beat and step in a routine that was fast, technical, tight and controlled. All the usual steps were there, just as expected, but with a different feel. The Charleston meet The Matrix. Will had fab swivel and he was great in and out of hold this time. A cracking start to the post-Blackpool show, which does have a tendency to bring a slump in performances. A very good 38 out of 40 scored.

Dance off denizens Molly & Carlos followed with a Tango to Bad Guy by Nibbly Eyelash, sorry Billie Eilish. You have to admire Molly's resistance and her ability to keep on keeping on performing. This was a decent enough routine. Molly came out with tons of attack, passion and drama - a world apart from her previous 'Sandra Dee sweet girl' looks and style. It was a fast dance with some very technical content. There were some really tidy spins & turns, changes of direction and crisp staccato moves. Molly's feet were good and, in general, so were her top line and frame. There wasn't a huge amount of V shaping in hold but there were some nice Spanish lines and finishes. Unfortunately, and not that she'll care, I found it all a bit...boring. Good job I don't judge for a living because the panel loved it and awarded 35 out of 40. The couple's heart-shaped 'vote for us' pose is proper getting on me wick, though.

Ellie & Johannes gave us a Thelma & Louise themed Jive to Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison Fun fact, a colleague and I once got booed off karaoke singing this. We were in an advanced state of refreshment, though. We probably sounded worse than Liam Gallagher who, frankly, sounds like a live sheep being fed through a shredder. It looked like Ellie struggled with this dance. which didn't really have a lot of jive content. It was more like one of those 'shops with the middle aisle of tat' versions of a Jive. Probably called a Jave or a Juvo to avoid copyright infringement. To be fair, it was a fast, fun and frivolous routine, but Ellie's weight was in the wrong place, meaning her kick and flicks were dodgy and she lacked proper retraction. She went wrong several times and towards the end got a bit heavy and flat-footed. It was energetic and the pair looked like they were having fun, but this routine took a Thelma & Louise dive over a cliff, I'm afraid. Just 25 out of 40 from the judges.

Erm...JoJo - I think you missed the turning

Fleur & Vito followed with a Rumba to Too Lost In You by Sugababes, who have had so many different members they should be called Trigger's Broom Babes. I can't keep up. So, apparently, Fleur was dancing. I could only see Vito, myself. I jest (a bit). For my least favourite dance this did actually entertain me. It was a smooth routine, oozing sensuality and sultry moves. It was so hot, passionate & steamy it should have had a guidance warning before it started. I came over all unnecessary, which is never a good look. The routine was tricky and technical with lots of lovely light and shade. There were cucarachas, rumba walks and a nice Rumba Triangle, which is apparently a leg-shapey thing and not a sort of musical instrument Dave Arch And His Wunnerful Orchestra play. It wasn't perfect - Rumba Rules to be stuck to and all that. Fleur got a bit tight and tense in places and looked like she didn't breathe through the whole thing. Her timing and balance were good and her legs and feet quite lovely. There was a lack of fluidity, though, and the routine scored 35 out of 40. With Vito getting a bonus headbutt from an excited Fleur.

It's all a bit of a Rum(ba) do

Hamza & Jowita were up next with an Argentine Tango to Libertango by Bond. Which sounded a bit like the feem toon to Charlie's Angels, if you ask me. This was a smooth, controlled and fluid dance. led exceptionally well by Hamza - something Shirl was quick to point out at the end, saying he is the reason Jowita looks so good (so, you know, not like the eleventy billions of hours of training she's done since she was a nipper). There was, as always, a great connection between the pair and this transferred through the routine. Hamza was strong, powerful, brooding but also sensual and light on his feet. His ganchos were pretty good, but in some parts his legs were so high up around Jowita's waist it looked like he was auditioning to join The Ministry of Silly Walks.

                             

The footwork split the judges, too. Anton compared Hamza to a Bradford City centre forward and Shirley declared she'd love to dance with Hamza herself. A bit of a dip from the last couple of weeks and the couple got 34 out of 40.

Helen & Gorka closed the show with a Samba to Eso Beso by Emma Bunton. This was a cheeky, fun and frivolous routine, Helen having a kind of ditsy, Legally Blonde character at the start. It wasn't long before Gorka ripped his shirt open - just  when I'd got myself together after Vito - and joined the party. Helen had some decent shimmies and hips, but she should have gone SO much bigger, especially in the solo slots. It was all a bit...polite. There were some tricky steps and moves, light and shade, changes of pace and all that. But Helen was too stiff and stilted in parts, her weight was too far back and her legs needed to be straighter. A huge difference to last week and the judges scored accordingly. A measly - and just a bit nasty - five from Craig meant the pair only scored 29 out of 40. 

With no Kym the night was over before we knew it. The remaining pairs are all desperate to stay in for Musicals Week next Saturday (we'll take bets on what tired tropes they'll trot out later) and there was still an elimination to come even though Kym had had a bye. So who will be in the Quarter Finals? Read on, mon petit pals.

'Twas Sunday again. HOTH & I had a lazy morning before taking my fabulous mum in law out for a spot of lunch. See, I can do civilised every now and again. SOTH had gone ice-skating with college chums and it wasn't raining for once. Meanwhile, back at Strictyland, one celebrity had already packed their dance shoes and were probably nursing a giant commiseratory hangover. Who was it though?

The Sunturday Show started with a pro dance that started mostly monochrome then popped into colour as they stripped off coats, jumpers and the like. There were a LOT of clashing colours, though. Like they'd got dressed in a dark cupboard with sunglasses on. All grins and leaping about, it wasn't a bad start to the Results.

The Giant Redwood trees I had planted at the beginning were fully mature by the time Tess finally told us that the first person in the dance off was....

FLEUR AND VITO. This surely had to be one of those 'others will vote for her so' situations because she hadn't danced badly at all. Mind you, most people are as much of a fan as Rumba as I am, which isn't much. She looked absolutely crushed but said she wasn't surprised. It came as a surprise to Shirley who has performed a complete about face with Fleur/But, looking on the bright side, we would get to see Vito's Shirl-admired tushy again. Win, win.

Up in the Clauditorium Will was visibly thrilled and grateful to be in and Hamza confessed to not knowing any musicals. What will he end up doing? Hmmm. 

Our musical interlude this week was provided by Tom Grennan and Joel Corry - who, I am told, is a Disc Jockey (now you can see why it's abbreviated to DJ, doesn't sound quite as cool in full, does it? Much more Noel Edmonds than Calvin Harris).

A thousand galaxies were born, existed and died - the star systems, not the chocolate bars - before Vernon Kaye's missus announced that the second pair in danger were...

ELLIE & JOHANNES. Ah, it had to come, didn't it? The week after Blackpool is always the one where we start to lose the 'popular' celebrities from the ones who stand a chance of being in the final. Ellie looked like a stunned kipper last week when she got through, so being in the dance off sooner or later must have been in the back of her mind.

It was a bit cruel to leave Molly and Carlos right to the end, though. She must have thought she was in the dance off yet again! Usually, they announce last week's dancer off-er-er first thing. She was thrilled to be safe. Helen's lads are apparently getting better at maths adding up her scores. No reveals of next week's tunes, though. They must be trying to keep them as a surprise.

The Judges' bit was cancelled this week to keep the time down so the next World Cup match could be shown. Of which I could give no cares. We don't like / watch football in our house, not even Big Games. I know we're the exception rather than the rule and the vast majority love it. Me? I'd rather peel my skin off and paddle in the Dead Sea. 

I don't think you really need me to tell you the outcome of the dance off, do I? As much as I love Ellie and JoJo, they were outmatched, outdanced and outclassed by Fleur and Vito. The judges voted unanimously to save them and it was a very emotional goodbye to, Team Jellie.

Six couples remain to take part in the Musicals Week Quarter Finals (presuming Kym makes a recovery in time for next week). We're heading towards the sharp end of the competition and it's still anyone's Glitterball. Join me for the first Strictly of December which, for the very first time - because of the fubble - will be on FRIDAY, with the results on Saturday. Put that on your diaries, folks. Until then...

KEEP DANCING!

I don't think you're ready for this, Jellie

RIP Irene Cara, sadly passed away 25 November 2022.

You've Got Some Front

 

BLACKPOOL BABY! Yes, we're back at the home of ballroom after a three year absence. And we do like to be beside the seaside, don't we? This is the point the celebs want to get to almost as much as the final. Everything is bigger, everything is better, everything is brighter, bolder, brasher. And the floor is springy! Who would have thought that some little seaside town in the north-west of England, cheap and cheerful, brassy & breezy would be the Mecca of ballroom dancing? They still hold championship competitions here. You can book an afternoon tea dance. Carlos has danced here TWELVE times. The All England Open will be here next February, for flip's sake!

Pretty much every kid in the north west will have had a day out in Blackpool at some time growing up, been brought to drive at the speed of a geriatric sloth through The Illuminations, cheat death on The Grand National wooden roller-coaster (yes, you read that right. WOODEN). It has side-by-side tracks where two cars 'race' one another around a 19 metre  - 62 feet plus in old money - rickety contraption above concrete. We took my mum on it once & they take your photo part-way round. Mum was so scared on ours it looked like her hair was trying to get off! Apparently, it is the ride requiring the most maintenance in the whole of The Pleasure Beach. It needs work every single day. If that's not either a) possessed or b) a candidate for the next Final Destination film I don't know what is.

Thankfully, the Tower Ballroom is far less life-endangering and much more genteel. Refined, even. The architecture and decor are visually stunning - a hark back to more rose-tinted days when Brenda and her 10,000 sequin dress and Brian in his tails with Brylcreemed hair wove, wafted and Waltzed to the sound of the Mighty Wurlitzer. 

Not for our intrepid eight remaining couples, though. Blackpool welcomes Dave Arch And His Wunnerful Orchestra, Tommy and Team providing the vocals and an array of backing dancers to fill  the, frankly mahoosive, dancefloor behind our plucky pairs. And how did they fare? 'Utch up on the couch a bit and let me tell you.

Of course there was a Pro Dance to start. Would we have expected any less? Starting off outside, with the pros in plastic flasher macs for some reason, they quickly got us in the mood for a night of ballroom and boogie. Cut to inside (The Tower doesn't have bell-hop doormen, by the way. More the six feet cubed gentlemen who loom menacingly even when they're ordering a Mr Whippy) and the crowd were already in a whooping-mad frenzy. The judges joined in, all in their glad rags with Shirley in a gold frock that really reminded me of something...

                                     

Just me? Well, wouldn't be the first time. Once all the pros and judges were prancing and gyrating, the celebs took to the floor as a sea of pink and Blackpool had well & truly begun.

Hamza & Jowita opened the night with an American Smooth to New York, New York by Frank Sinatra. Now, readers of a certain age will remember that no Work's Do was complete until the DJ had played this tune. The Rule was you all stood in a circle, arms entwined, kicking your legs in time to the  music like you were in a chorus line. One momentous year, as my then boyfriend's Plus One, I was a little bit enthusiastic with my kicks and my four-inch stiletto-heeled shoe flew off and hit his boss in the face. I don't think I was invited to another one. Can't think why. ANYWAY - no such fate befell Hamza who danced like he was born to it. He flowed across the floor with ease, sweeping gracefully through the routine on feet as light as a feather, musicality turned up to eleven. With a lovely frame and posture he led Jowita confidently, not fazed or overshadowed by the backing dancers. There was a nice jazz break section that was Straight Outta Hollywood, reminiscent of Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers. The judges were impressed, too, and a mighty 38 out of 40 was scored.

Up next were Molly & Carlos with a Jive to Bandstand Boogie by Barry Manilow. Bazza has has so much work done these days he looks like the character Odo from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine:

                          

Live From Lancashire: Barry Manilodo

Is is me, or was there not a lot of actual Jive in this? I mean, it was nice to look at - it was fun and all that - but, for me at least, there wasn't a lot of what I was expecting. There seemed to be a lot of other steps going on, and the judges remarked on the difficult choreography, but this was no Jay & Aliona. Molly's kicks and flicks (when they did eventually happen) were fine, but her retraction was quite weak and she looked stompy and heavy footed in places. Carlos totally outdanced her, seeming to forget he wasn't in a Championship. As a result, I think anyway, Molly was a bit put off and her timing went. She still scored 35 out of 40 though.

Kym & Graziano, in his first ever Blackpool with a partner, brought a passable Paso Doble to Only Girl / We Found Love by Calvin Harris ft Rihanna. Bit of an odd choice for a Paso but who am I to judge? Actually, that's exactly what I'm doing, aren't I? I've even got meself a special notebook for it:

Kym had taken Graz out for another first - fish, chips and mushy peas. He looked less than thrilled at the prospect and the VT quickly cut to another scene. Very hit and miss, your fish & chips. Have a read of my post Hands Off My Condiments on here if you like. Speaking of hit and miss, Kym started off this dance well, bringing some decent passion and attack with good characterisation. There were some lovely Spanish lines and flamenco bits, her feet were in fine fettle and she did well with some tricky choreography. Her promenades were okay but her frame was wonky and her right shoulder was hunched up every time she was in hold. Not terrible by any means, though. The panel awarded 33 out of 40.

Tyler & Dianne shook things up with a Salsa to KC & The Sunshine Band Megamix. This was much more Tyler's groove than last week's poorly-performed Paso. More relaxed (probably terrified Dianne would make him go on a roller coaster again), Tyler was determined to bring the party. Kitted out Seventies style in afro wig and white pants and waistcoat he bopped, boogied and bounced around the floor. This was a very disco-based Salsa and while it had some of the basic steps there really wasn't enough for you to have picked it out of a line-up of Salsas v Saturday Night Fevers. There were some incredible, very tricky lifts that were impressive - but they kind of spoiled the flow and the transitions in and out were clunky. Tyler had tons of personality, rhythm and musicality, especially in his solo spots, but things got a bit sticky in hold. There was lots of bounce and shimmy, but his hips lacked rotation and isolation. Better than last week, though, and the pair earned 35 out of 40.

Ellie & Johannes followed with an American Smooth to You're My World by Cilla Black. My favourite misheard lyric ever was a friend's mum who thought Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell went 'I'm going to hit the highway like a battering ram, with a Cilla Black fan on a bike'. Of course, that's all I sing now. This was a much more elegant number than that. It was like a wedding dance, but in a good way. Smooth, flowing, lyrical, Ellie swept around the floor gracefully. There were some nice changes of pace and direction and her footwork was really neat, especially in the heel turns and fleckerl. Her frame and top line were off kilter, though, and the lifts weren't smooth. Apparently, Ellie had picked up an injury in training which meant one lift had to be changed last minute and may have explained why she seemed a bit tentative. For some reason she was apologising profusely to JoJo at the end. A decent enough 31 out of 40 was scored.

Helen & Gorka showcased a Quickstep to Valerie by Mark Ronson ft Amy Winehouse. Oh my giddy kipper! Hello, Helen, where have you been hiding? This was an absolute corker of a routine. This dance got everyone going. Fun, flirty, flighty, fleet and all sorts of other words beginning with an F. Totally caught up in the mood, Helen raced across the floor like she'd been doing it for years. She was enjoying herself immensely and it showed. A massive grin on her face from start to finish she was in step and in sync with Gorka every second. Her feet were really good, her frame was fab and her solo spots were controlled. I don't think the pair left an inch of the dancefloor uncovered, Helen interacting with the backing dancers like she did it every day. The crowd loved it too and were on their feet at the end for a standing ovation. An 'exceptional' from Craig and a 'best Quickstep ever' from Motsi meant a whopping 39 out of 40 on the scoreboard. Helen was so excited she announced she needed a wee to several million viewers. You gotta love the girl.

Fleur & Vito kept the mood up with a cracking Couple's Choice to a Destiny's Child Megamix. THIS was what we've been waiting for from Fleur. Not bound by the strict rules and regulations of the Classics she was absolutely in her element. Somehow a mix of Beyonce and Janet Jackson, 100% diva attitude from the first note, Fleur ruled the floor and commanded the eye. She was fierce, powerful, sharp, sleek and polished. Every beat was hit, every mark made. Totally in sync with Vito - and the other dancers - she not only owned this dance, she bought it, sold it, bought it back again and sold it for twice the price. Motsi & Shirl were grooving along in the judges' area and even Craig was bopping his head, declaring the routine FAB-U-LOUS and dusting off his 10 paddle. A tremendous first full house 40 out of 40. If she's in the dance off tomorrow I'll eat my couch.

Will & Nancy rounded off the night with a Samba to I Go To Rio by Hugh Jackman. I really like Will but last night's outfit and attitude made him look like one of those holiday camp entertainers who does a side hustle of stripping at hen dos. Or like Steve Coogan character Tony Ferrino:

                         

I do Will a disservice. He was actually pretty good, giving it proper welly (he had to follow Fleur remember) in a routine that was so cheesy I feared for lactose intolerant members of the audience. It was fun, joyful, slick and packed with content. There were voltas, lock steps, shimmies, bounce, samba rolls and a jolly good end to the show. Will's hips were, well, hypnotic as he oozed around the floor with excellent isolation and proper rotation. He was obviously having a whale of a time, but still stayed in time and sync with Nancy. At the end he hugged the backing dancers for all their hard work. With a catty comment from Craig about Will having to teach Tyler how to move his hips (bit uncalled for) the couple earned 35 out of 40.

And Blackpool was done for the night (yeah, I know). I bet Shirl & The Gang buggered off to Yates' to sink a few Blobs - ah, those were the days. A heady mix of sweet Australian liqueur wine, brandy, sugar, lemon and hot water, you'd be seriously off your cake in a couple of rounds. I can still smell them. Well, the vomit, anyway. I was more of a Depth Charge girl. A shot glass full of Pernod dropped, glass and all, into a pint of cider. THAT was hangover stuff, believe me.

While we waited for Sunday HOTH and I binge-watched 1899 on Netflix. If you haven't seen it, I really recommend it. It's THE most WTF telly show we have ever watched. Never mind The X-Files, Millennium or Fringe. This show makes Twin Peaks seem like a series of The Tele-Tubbies. It is very, very good. 

Sunday's show kicked off with the pros recalling how much they dreamed of dancing at Blackpool as kids, and how special it is for them to perform there.

Human Labrador puppy and Eurovision Nearly Winner Sam Ryder provided the music, belting out You're The Voice, twanging his instrument in the interlude. He really is a hairy bundle of nice, isn't he? I want to throw a ball for him - the round kind, not an extravagant party - to see if he'll fetch it. I draw the line at rubbing his tummy though. The pros did a proper Blackpool group number while tiddly peeps Luca & Pebble. (I wonder if she goes to school with a kid called BamBam?)

                                 

Who's a good boy? You're a good boy Sam, yes you are!

Turgid Tess tediously tackled the task of telling tellyland that the twosome in trouble tonight were....

MOLLY & CARLOS. Poor Molly. She's been in the dance off so often now she must be wondering what she has to do not to be there. It's not her fault, but she is a ringadingdinger and the Voting Viewers tend not to keep those hanging around too long. She's not got the tween vote either, like previous celebs have. Such a shame and it must be a massive knock to her young confidence - she's only 21 (22 on Tuesday).

We had Claud's Corner instead of the Clauditorium this week, which looked a bit like it had been decorated by the Sixth Formers for their prom. (Don't get me started on that Malarkey - thankfully SOTH said he'd rather lose a body part than attend his - bloody prom. Ha!). Hamza apparently teaches Jowita about the Animal Kingdom while she teaches him the dances. Fleur was overwhelmed by the scores - and her husband texts Vito while in bed with her. Ellie was utterly gobsmacked that she'd got through.

We got another turn from Sam Ryder, who seemed to have turned up in his PJs. Maybe his mum let him stay up after his Sunday bath so he could sing again. Gio & Katya did a sort of rumba thing while Sam hit notes only a dolphin could have heard.

The judges huddled for their chat and recap of the dances of the night. Motsi loved being back in Blackpool -  she only got to be a judge once before The Event. Shirley tipped Hamza as the one to beat, Anton spoke about standing ovations, Craig raved about Fleur

Deathly dreary Daly droned dozily for a dozen decades before declaring the doomed dance off duo were...

TYLER AND DIANNE. It was always going to be the way that good dancers were going to be in the bottom two from now on in. The remaining couples are all good to very good, most are definitely in a chance of winning it. But a second dance off on the trot must have been a bit disheartening for Tyler. His routine wasn't even bad. It's just that the viewers thought others were better.

Back to Claud's Corner and Will thanking all the local people supporting him and the people voting. Helen is living for every moment and Gorka's little girl Mia (with former Strictly contestant Gemma Atkinson) is in love with Will. Kym was relieved and grateful she gets another week grappling Graz.

Our pairs in peril took to the floor for what would be the last time for one of them. Well, probably until the tour, anyway. I could actually see a difference between their first performances and this one. Molly was a little lighter on her feet and Carlos toned it down a bit. Tyler came out fighting and got some rotation through his hips. The lifts were still clunky rather than flunky and the end one seemed very laboured this time round.

It was a difficult but not-quite unanimous decision for the judges, the split vote meant Head Judge Shirley had the last call that the celebrity to leave was....

TYLER. Aw, the poor lamb. Dianne looked stricken and Tyler kept apologising to her. Theirs was such a tight partnership and it must be so hard to suddenly have the rug pulled. He really did look like one of the favourites at the start - early 10s and one of the best Charlestons we've seen on Strictly. But, as I said last week, he seemed to have plateaued and didn't seem to be progressing like some of the others. I will miss his enthusiasm and the fun he brought this year.

And that was that for another week. My couch remains uneaten. The rock has been eaten, the Kiss Me Quick hats packed up for another year. Onwards to the final now - but who will lift the Glitterball for 2022? Only one way to find out - join me next week for another round up. Until then, my little candyflosses.....

KEEP DANCING!!!

Ta-ra Tyler - you can West your feet now

Hands Off My Condiments

 

 

 

It's about this time every year that HOTH, SOTH and I pile into the family car and take a trip to Blackpool. This is a family Tradition. With a capital T. That is, something we Always Do and have done since SOTH was not quite a year old. Cars and jobs have come and gone (as have hair, teeth and weight), but the Family Outing to Blackpool remains a constant. There was one year when someone else took SOTH instead, but we don't like to talk about that and, if I do, it's usually with a cat's bum mouth. We tend to go early in the evening, timing it so we're there not long before the Illuminations come on but before the rowdy crowds, lakes of vomit and fist-fights start appearing. I could do without explaining to SOTH what that man with a willy-shaped hat on and the lady in the flashing bra are doing behind the bins, thank you very much. 

 

The trip follows the same kind of routine every year - a wander on the front to spend the equivalent of the national debt of a small country in the arcades. No longer the 'penny arcades' of my youth - long gone are the crank-handled one arm bandits, replaced with acres of neon and flashing lights, loud beeps, boops & sirens, geared to grab the attention of kids and instant entertainment addicts. Still, SOTH actually won some money on the 'coin shove / Tipping Point' machine this year - an event as rare as the coming of Halley's Comet or England winning the World Cup, but much more exciting. Of course, he ended up putting it all back in - but that's part of the fun. Apparently. 

 

Next comes fish and chips at our favourite chippy. It's a bit of a drive away from Blackpool itself, away from the main drag and the churned- out buckets of grease selling for £2.99 a throw (up). It is still really popular - there can be queues out of the door on some nights. The fish is cooked fresh to order, piping hot in a crisp, tasty batter, translucent and delicious. The chips are chunky, proper chips - all different sizes and 'gob scadding' (mouth scalding) as my dad says. I think we'd been visiting the place for about three years, eating the goodies out of paper while sitting in the car, before I realised there was a restaurant attached and we started 'sitting in'. It's delightfully olde-worlde with proper Formica tables and leatherette seats. Thankfully the Trendies haven't got their manicured mitts on this place yet and long may that continue. 

 

This year we piled in as usual, took our seats and waited for the....well, waitress (yes, the place still offers waited tables) to come and take our order. Having demanded our delights - two 'Dining Room Specials' (cod, chips, mushy peas, bread & butter and a cup of tea so strong it could hold its own in a fight with Mike Tyson) and large cod & chips for SOTH - a boy who loves his fish - we relaxed and chatted, as you do. Then HOTH then noticed that the vinegar in the plastic bottles looked suspiciously pale. Instead of the dark brown malty colour you normally associate with chippy vinegar, this was a watery, translucent colour. Sort of the colour of your wee after a really heavy night out on the lash, probably involving a kebab and some ill-advised shots near closing time. Or is that just me? 

 

To say that I like my vinegar is to say elephants are slightly larger than an amoeba or that the All Blacks are a bit good at rugby. I love the stuff. I have been known, on occasion, to drink vinegar from a pickled onion jar (don't judge me). The sight of this stuff worried me. I had a taste. I had another taste, just to make sure. My heart sank. The owner had obviously watered it down. A LOT. I'm all for businesses maximising profit and cutting costs, but this was ridiculous. This wasn't vinegar as we knew it anymore. It was inert. It was so watered down it had practically changed state into an alkaline. My friends, this was homeopathic vinegar. One part acetic acid to a million. A shark couldn't have sensed the vinegar in that bottle. I was Very Disappointed. Fish & chips without vinegar is like Morecambe without Wise, Ant without Dec, Donald Trump without his wig....I silently fumed and contemplated a sulk. 

 

The waitress brought our lovely food. My fish lay there, hot & tempting, begging to be drowned in vinegar, sprinkled with salt and devoured. I didn't want to disappoint it. HOTH took the bull by the horns. He asked the waitress if they had any sachets of vinegar available, something that could legally be called vinegar. No, sorry, they didn't. I began to half-heartedly splash some liquid on my dinner when she reappeared with a full, unopened, unsullied bottle of The Good Stuff. Real, proper vinegar - the stuff that makes you cough when it evaporates as it hits your chips. 'I told him he waters it down too much.' she muttered. I could have hugged her. She stood over us as we liberally spattered our dinners with it, joyful in the malty, tangy smell (except SOTH. He hates vinegar. He's weird. Unless he had so much of the stuff while in the womb it put him off). Food duly anointed, the waitress took the bottle back off us and away, hidden again like contraband until someone was brave enough to ask again. 

 

I'm very happy to report that, after that, the food was as gorgeous as ever. Hot, tasty, huge portions filled our bellies and set us up for the finale to the trip. The Illuminations themselves. SOTH always buys something light-up, neon and twizzy on a stick to wave around on the journey (that ends up forgotten in the Narnia under his bed by the end of the following week) and we set off 'to see the lights'. A drive down the Golden Mile 'oohing' and 'aahing' at flashing light-bulbs in colourful arrangements like we've never seen electricity before. The only time of year when you willingly drive at five miles an hour in a humongous line of traffic and don't moan. Vegas it ain't, but it's Tradition and something we hold dear. Some parts of the display are better than others - the sparse strings at one end, melding into character pieces - one year, sponsored by Hollands, there was a section of illuminated pies with unsettling faces on them, nearly put me off my pastry - and finally on to the terrific tableaux, huge screens and animated displays like Alice in Wonderland, Native Americans, a pile of pirates prancing, the Haunted House. They save the best stuff to last. If you accidentally come into the display from the wrong end it must be really disappointing. 

 

Lights looked at, we set off home. SOTH falls asleep in the back, twizzer in hand & snuggled under coats. HOTH & I singing along to the tunes on the radio like a cut price Sonny & Cher (I refuse to be drawn on who's who), driving home in the dark and wondering just how many more times we can do this before SOTH decides it's lame and refuses to come along anymore*. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Until then, the Tradition stands. Just stop watering down my condiments and we'll be fine, okay? 

 

 

*The bridge may have been crossed but I'm going to try to get us all there before the Illuminations end this year