I went to Blackpool to see starlings massing at dusk, but there were other things to look at too.
It started with the railway station, which still had the length of a platform designed for hoards of holidaymakers rather than the rattling two-coach sprinter that I was on. The station was an airy thirties reinforced concrete arch spanning the concourse – a bit like Leeds station.
The “comic carpet” on the prom was fun.
Blackpool’s newer buildings are just jarring, but there is always the sea (when it’s in) and the sunsets to admire.
And the starlings, when they finally arrived over the North Pier, were magnificent. It was like watching a ballet of iron filings: one moment they were in a tight knot and the next they unfurled like a feather boa. It started off with one smallish flock and just grew and grew until there were at least three separate flocks whirling round each other.
Being in Blackpool again gives me an opportunity to dig out an old photograph from 1989:
I wonder if they’re still waiting?