I hate to keep milking this holiday...


... but I promised Amelie I'd publish some of the photos she took in Blackpool. So here's one she captured of me at the Houndshill Shopping Centre (which is the dog's hillocks of indoor malls)...


I like that one. She's employed a clever use of angles to obscure my double chin. Unfortunately it's a different matter when I don't know she's shooting...


That's me looking for my shoes in the caravan. Lisa likes it, because she says it's the only photo which reveals my true nature. I think the word she used was 'menacing'. Apparently "it's all in the eyes", and makes her realise that she wouldn't want to meet me on a dark night. Unless I was offering to babysit.

Mind you, Lisa doesn't fare much better...


It's only the junk on the table which stops you seeing the menacing snarl on her face. We had to keep the curtains closed to stop her intimidating passers-by.

Moving back to the Houndshill (which is more K9 than K1), here's an arty shot of an indoor palm from Amelie's point of view...


She managed to cross that palm with silver by dropping the 10p I was letting her hold for the car park, but having retrieved it from the floor, she went on to take this fine portrait of womanhood...


I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "Blimey, Lisa really should have spent those Next vouchers on herself", but fear not, that def leopard isn't her. It's a complete stranger that Amelie marched up to and photographed without asking. There's a fine line between paparazzo and ASBO, and I think she might have crossed it.

Down at the Dale Farm travellers' site, the gypsies are looking pretty pleased about their latest injunction...


That's Amelie organising a sit-down protest of her own on the steps of our caravan before we left Blackpool on Monday morning. She's not technically a gypsy, but she does have a couple of slaves, one of whom was taking the photo. So the similarities are striking. Although obviously with me staying there, it wasn't so much Dale Farm as Chippendale Farm.

Anyhoo, my favourite of all our holiday photos is this one...


You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get back to that girder before the self-timer went off.

I'm joking, of course. I climbed out onto the girder first, and then got someone else to take the photo. Anyway, that was us at the top of Blackpool Tower last Wednesday. Anyone who read the accompanying blog post won't be surprised to learn that they charged us extra for that photo, but I felt it was worth the money as a souvenir. Particularly as I failed to get a photo of Lisa on a donkey. In addition to purchasing that picture in a presentation cardboard frame for the mantelpiece, I also wanted a copy to put somewhere that I'd see it numerous times a day. So I bought it as a fridge magnet.

But as mentioned last Friday, that wasn't the only souvenir photo I bought. We also came home with a beautiful group portrait of us all on the Rugrats Lost River ride at Nickelodeon Land, where we shared a touching moment of family love as we plummeted downhill at high speed in a plastic log...


I think Lisa was on her way to a court appearance.

After a week of fun, frolics and freezing temperatures, we've finally left Blackpool behind us...


We drove home yesterday. And it feels a lot warmer in Brighton. Although that might just be the warm, reassuring glow of discovering that we haven't killed Stefan & Andrew with a plate of dodgy pasta. Yes, just ten days after force-feeding them pesto, I tuned into BBC Sussex this morning to find that Andrew's still alive...


I don't know what 'coming oot' is, and I think he still had a pine nut stuck in his throat at the beginning, but other than that, he sounds fit and well.

So to catch up on the weekend...

Saturday was the day it really rained. Yes, I know it looked wet at the zoo, but that was like a gentle shower compared with the deluge that followed. Saturday's pilgrimage from our caravan to the holiday park's free wi-fi hotspot where I published my blog every day, felt like a tribute to Kevin Costner in Waterworld. I didn't think I'd make it back without gills.

We'd planned to visit the Blackpool Model Village that afternoon, but most of the exhibits are less than three-feet tall, which frankly was below the waterline, so rather than look at a lake all day, we decided to head indoors to Arnie Aardvark's Children's Playbarn, a self-contained attraction next to Blackpool Zoo. Sadly, due to the ever present threat of paedophiles, cameras are not permitted in the playbarn, so I only have my photographic memory to rely on, and to be honest, that's never really developed. But I do remember Amelie having a good time for a couple of hours, until she was assaulted by a boy with a taste for random violence, and was carried out of the building in tears.

By Sunday though, she was well rested...


So for our final day in Blackpool, we headed for the South Shore, and the delights of the South Pier. They had the kind of facilities we knew would come in handy...


And as if to prove that point, here's a photo of us all together...


In the ten seconds it took for the self-timer to go off, Amelie had sprinted off into the distance, Lisa had turned to give chase, and I was left to put a brave face on it all for the camera. At least one of us is a professional.

We spent not only the afternoon, but also the rest of our money, on the South Pier, watching Amelie ride, eat, bowl, and generally have fun. One of the problems with the free wi-fi access provided by the Haven Holiday Park is that certain sites are blocked, to prevent people from hogging all the bandwidth, so I was unable to upload any videos to YouTube for the duration of our stay. But now we're home, I have free rein once again to inflict pointless family films on the world. So here's a little montage of Amelie's week in Blackpool...


She might not know what a gun is, but as you'll see after about four minutes, she's come a long way since our holiday in May 2010. She can tamper with the rides quite effectively now.

The trouble with living the high life at Blackpool Tower, pushing the boat out at Nickelodeon Land, feeding the fat cats at the Zoo and seeing the bright lights of the Illuminations, is that by the end of the week, you’ve run out of money. It’s Monday morning and we’re down to our last slice of watermelon...


I had to get the Tesco Value Colouring Book on the credit card. I think it’s time to go home...

Theme parks are all very well, but for sheer white-knuckle, edge-of-your-seat excitement, you can’t beat an open-top bus tour of the Blackpool Illuminations...


That’s Amelie having another nightmare about rollercoasters. I think the white knuckles were due to frostbite.

We’d always intended to visit the illuminations at some point this week, but we discovered on Wednesday that there’s an open-top bus tour of the lights which leaves the holiday camp every weekday evening at 7:30pm. Friday was our last chance to do it, so despite being soaked to the bone at Blackpool Zoo, we decided to throw caution to the biting north wind, stick our coats on the radiator for an hour, and head straight back out for the magical mystery tour.

According to the leaflet, the route would “take in the scenic parts of suburban Blackpool”, which was surprising, as all we’d seen up to that point were run-down council estates and shops called ‘Booze Booze Booze’. The most scenic part was the landscaping outside the Salvation Army hostel. But we left the caravan park with high hopes...


... and were soon speeding through the classier parts of town towards Fleetwood. By the time we hit the seafront at the uppermost tip of Blackpool, I felt like we were on an episode of 71 Degrees North.


Amelie and I were wearing two coats each, Lisa had her hood up, but after five minutes in the Lancashire sea air, we were in danger of losing more fingers than Ranulph Fiennes. I haven’t been so cold since I worked in the walk-in fridge at the pharmacy stores.

Not that it wasn’t worth it. Amelie spent the first half hour with a smile on her face, saying “Look! Look! Look!” every fifteen seconds, and acting as an impromptu tour guide by pointing out everything we passed.


Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before we were being passed ourselves. By pedestrians. It transpires that on a Friday night in September, the world and his wife are in Blackpool. The seafront was gridlocked with cars, coaches and people wearing flashing bunny ears. Within minutes of arriving at the illuminations, we were going nowhere fast. It should have been a case of lights, camera, action, but instead we were frozen stiff in a traffic jam.

When I first suggested taking the tour, Lisa asked me how long it would take. Bearing in mind that we’re only two miles from the seafront, and the bus wasn’t due to make any stops, I estimated it at no more than an hour.

It turned out to be three. By 10pm we were still crawling along the Golden Mile at less than walking pace in what felt like sub-zero temperatures. The only thing hitting 40mph was the wind. We braved it all for an hour and a half, before the sight of a heated tram finally broke our spirit...


... and we headed downstairs while we could still feel our legs.

Amelie promptly fell asleep, and we spent the rest of the tour at the back end of a night-bus on the frozen road to nowhere...


The only light at the end of the tunnel was the end of the illuminations.

It’s a well known fact that elephants never forget. Although in Amelie’s case, they might want to make an exception...


Frankly the less they remember the better. Amelie might have been on a roll, but in this case it was all the way to the fire exit.

Obviously, as a caring and responsible parent, it’s not ideal to have your child doing a beetle impression on the floor of an elephant house, but firstly she doesn’t listen to a word I say, and secondly, I was past caring at that point. When you’ve just watched her wading through a flood with her sandals on, you don’t get too stressed by a bit of dung.

Quite honestly, if you thought Amelie got a bit wet at Nickelodeon Land, you should have seen her at Blackpool Zoo yesterday...


Not even David Walliams has seen that much water in a day. I kept expecting Noah to sail past and start loading up the animals.

Things started well enough. We arrived at the zoo at lunchtime, convinced them that Amelie was under three, and before we knew it, she was cheerfully strangling a flamingo in front of its friends...


But as we moved from the pink flamingos to the red panda, the colour of the clouds started darkening too. By the time we entered the wallaby enclosure, we were having to put a brave face on the weather...


To be honest, from the moment we arrived at the zoo, I did start to wonder why we seemed to be the only people there. The entire ticket office was empty, and we barely met a soul as we wandered around the enclosures. It was as though everyone knew something we didn’t. Namely, the weather forecast.

But as we posed on the back of a hippo...


... the penny, and the rain, dropped. It was as if the zoo had spent a fortune to make their Amazon Rainforest display more realistic.

Fortunately, we were only a stone’s throw (which in this case was a skim across the floodwaters) from the Children’s Farm, so we headed straight into the nearest barn...


That’s Amelie helping herself to a drink from the milk bar. She claimed it was a real cow, so I told her to pull the udder one. To be honest, despite seeing some of the most endangered, elusive and unusual animals anywhere on the planet, Amelie’s favourite attraction at Blackpool Zoo was that plastic cow. At one point, I genuinely thought we weren’t going to get her away from there before closing time. She milked enough to keep Dairycrest a float. We had to tell her to leave so many times that I ended up feeling a little hoarse. Well, stroking a donkey. It was the only way to de-stress.

With the deluge continuing, Lisa barricaded herself into the nearest cafe, while Amelie insisted I escort her to the penguin enclosure...


Which is fine if you have an umbrella. Needless to say, I didn’t. So while Lisa sipped a latte in the coffee shop, I followed Amelie through the worsening monsoon, as her splashing in puddles became wading through lakes, and her shoes turned the colour of mud.

It was worth it though. As the only visitors foolish enough to be outdoors, we eventually found ourselves alone in the ape house, allowing us to creep silently right up to the gorillas...


That’s the male silverback with his new little baby. And it was truly an awesome sight. Having seen a fully-grown gorilla close-up, I now have a new respect for David Attenborough. The man’s clearly a mental case. Frankly anyone who goes within a country mile of the creatures without six inches of toughened glass and a shotgun is a fool to himself. But from the safety of a well-designed enclosure, they were a joy to behold. I haven’t seen anything so intimidating and powerful since I first met Lisa’s mother.

We watched the gorillas both indoors and outdoors, without another human being in sight, and they genuinely made my day. Lisa’s been monkey-phobic all her life, and wouldn’t even let me describe them to her afterwards without oxygen on standby, but one thing I did tell her as we waded out towards the meerkats, is how pleased I was that the gorillas at the zoo were breeding successfully. As I said to her at the time, it’s a generally accepted fact that caged animals won’t breed unless they’re happy.

She turned to me in her rain-soaked hood, as Amelie jumped into another lake, and responded with just six little words: “Maybe that’s where we’re going wrong.”

Once you’ve decided to get on a rollercoaster, there’s no looking back...


Well, maybe a small amount of looking back. But only to check that Daddy hasn’t hopped off at the last moment and headed for the donut stall.

In the world of amateur child therapy, it’s important to make your subject face their fears and work through their issues by confronting their demons in public. And if the Daily Mail is to be believed, those demons don’t come much bigger than SpongeBob SquarePants. So just three days after Amelie developed abandonment issues about rollercoasters, we decided to adopt a kill-or-cure approach by taking her here...


If Lisa looks slightly distracted in that photo, it’s because two coachloads of college students had just disembarked over to the left, and were marching across the car park towards us, chanting “Here we go, here we go, here we go!” in a slightly intimidating fashion. It’s not easy saying “Get a move on!” in a panicked voice whilst smiling and not moving your lips, but I think Lisa pulled it off.

Anyhoo, we spent yesterday in Nickelodeon Land, a child-friendly section of Blackpool Pleasure Beach. We could have paid £32 each for entry to the entire theme park, but Amelie’s too small to go on most of the big rides, and her Daddy’s too scared, so we opted for a price of £18 for unlimited rides in Nickelodeon Land. Tragically, you start paying at the age of 2, and there’s no discount for children, so that was fifty-four quid for an afternoon’s entertainment. Plus £6 for parking.

It turned out to be the best sixty quid I’ve ever spent. Amelie took to theme parks like a duck to water. Quite literally. This was her when we arrived at the Pleasure Beach...


And here she is after her first ride...


I’ve seen her less wet in the bath. And I look like I’ve been wading through a swimming pool. But the ‘Rugrats Lost River’ set the tone for the afternoon. As I plunged downhill in a plastic log, holding onto Amelie for dear life and trying not to scream, we hit splashdown like this...


... and I opened my eyes, expecting to see Amelie bursting into tears and screaming to get out. Instead I saw her erupt into laughter and shout “Again, Daddy, again!”. She might have been soaked, but she loved every moment.

Lisa had opted out of that first ride, on the grounds that she was drinking her coffee, but she joined us on Spongebob’s Splash Bash...


... Dora’s World Voyage...


... The Fairy World Taxi Spin...


... and Diego’s Rainforest Rescue...


We didn’t actually know who any of these characters were, because Amelie’s not allowed to watch commercial TV in case she sees the adverts and starts asking for stuff. But she enjoyed them all the same.

On the downside, we’ve discovered that we’re going to have a hard time convincing her of the existence of Santa Claus. Nickelodeon Land featured various cartoon characters wandering around and hugging the children, in the same way that you can meet Mickey Mouse at Disneyland. But whilst other children reacted with excitement at their chance to meet the real-life Boots from Dora the Explorer, Amelie just pointed and said “Look! There’s someone dressed up as a monkey!”. She then spotted Dora, and said “And there’s another person dressed up as something!”. She’s not even three, and she’s already shattered her own illusions.

Having been on all the rides once, and seen Amelie enjoy every one, we began to make the most of our wristbands by revisiting our favourites. Which meant a return trip to the Lost River...

That’s Lisa preparing for splashdown. But if you think that’s funny, you should see the souvenir photo they took as we plummeted down the slope. That was seven pounds very well spent. I’m tempted to go and buy a scanner, just so that I can publish it today. But in the meantime, if you picture a manic child abductor being chased downhill by the Emperor from Star Wars, you’re halfway there.

The advantage of visiting a theme park during term time is that the only children there were pre-schoolers and truants, which meant that we barely had to queue for anything. We went straight onto any ride we fancied. Which is handy when you have a toddler who doesn’t like to wait. We spent four hours riding, coasting, bouncing and spinning, accompanied by constant laughter, and the sound of Amelie saying “It makes my tummy go funny!”. Which is what her Daddy said after the all-you-can-eat pizza buffet.

Most of the rides were aimed at small children, although maybe not as small as the chap chasing Amelie in the pirate ship...


... but there was one ride in Nickelodeon Land that she wasn’t tall enough to try. The Nickelodeon Streak was a wooden rollercoaster which required riders to be at least four feet tall. It meant that Lisa and I scraped through the entry requirements and took it in turns to ride. Here I am coasting along on the crest of a wave...


And here’s Lisa with her death row face...


I don’t know what she was more scared of: the rollercoaster ride ahead of her, or the single blokes behind.

Hold onto your ‘Kiss Me Quick’ hats, it’s the Gardners at the top of Blackpool Tower!


Amelie’s fainted due to altitude sickness, vertigo and a general lack of biscuits. At that point, it was an hour since her last gingerbread man.

Anyhoo, the wind died down a bit yesterday and it stopped raining for about half an hour, so we decided the time was right to scale the heights of Blackpool Tower. Or ‘Blackpool Tower Eye’, as they’re now calling it for reasons which escape me.

If you’re not sure where Blackpool Tower is, here’s Amelie pointing it out whilst covered in strawberry ice cream...


Obviously that’s a lamppost, but it’s not good to tell children they’re wrong.

Fortunately her Daddy has a better sense of direction, so within minutes of parking in the town centre yesterday afternoon, we were joining a small queue of tourists and handing over £24 for two tickets to the top of the tower. Amelie gets in free until a fortnight on Sunday.

When I asked for the tickets, the lady on the till said “Is it just for the tower?”, which struck me as an odd question for someone on the ticket desk at Blackpool Tower to ask. I felt like saying “No, I’ll have two for the zoo as well”, but sarcasm doesn’t suit me. So we took our tickets, walked through the turnstile, and immediately saw signs to the ‘Blackpool Tower Circus’.

Anyway, if you think it’s embarrassing to be turned away from the doors of a circus, you should try heading upstairs with an excited toddler and being told that your tickets don’t cover entry to Jungle Jim’s Play Area either. It was like paying twelve quid to get into the Odeon and being told the films are extra. I was beginning to think they were going to charge us to use the lifts.

By the time we reached the entrance to the 4D cinema, I fully expected us to be barred from that too, but to my great surprise, I showed our apparently worthless tickets to the man on the gate, and he waved us through. And I have to say, the experience of that cinema made up for all the earlier rejection. Not least because I got to see Amelie wearing some 3D glasses...


It’s like Brains from Thunderbirds is doing his Roy Orbison impression.

When I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that I had no idea what a 4D cinema was, someone (I forget who) suggested that it's "when they have someone concealed within your chair, who feels you every now and then". And he wasn’t far wrong. In reality, you watch a five minute 3D film about Blackpool whilst being sprayed with water and covered in foam, while the floor shakes and smoke comes out of the walls. That might sound like something out of Guantanamo Bay, but it was actually very good. Even Amelie said it was “Great”. Although she got in for free, so she had no right to complain.

Having emerged from the fourth dimension, we then joined the queue for the lift to the top of the tower...


It wasn’t a long queue, admittedly. I think everyone else was in the circus or the play area.

Having gone up in the world with a young female lift operator who told us that they’ve had a lot of trouble recently with visitors touching up the tour guides, we emerged at the top of Blackpool Tower to the unbridled excitement of the Skywalk!


I don’t think Amelie knows the word ‘whatever’, but she’s managed to perfect the look.

Fortunately Lisa enjoyed it more...


And even I ventured out onto the glass...


I was determined not to look down. Not because I’m scared of heights, but because I was afraid I’d see Amelie lifting up her dress in public.

Anyhoo, family photos are all very well...


... but of all the pictures I took at the top of Blackpool Tower, my favourite was this one...


The red car in the centre of the car park at the bottom is my Skoda, and the white blob to the right of the lake at the top is our caravan. You can’t see all the speed cameras, but trust me, they’re there.

We made our way back down via the Blackpool Tower Ballroom, where we watched a beautiful old-fashioned tea dance accompanied by a bloke on a Wurlitzer which rose out of the stage, all in the most stunning of surroundings...


But not as stunning as my wife. So I chose to photograph her instead.

By this time, the guilt had set in, so we decided to throw caution to the wind, and pay the £5 a head required for Amelie to enter Jungle Jim’s Indoor Play Area. Unfortunately the gate was still manned by the woman who’d turned us away earlier, but swallowing my pride and hiding my embarrassment, I marched up to her with my wallet in my hand and confidently asked for some tickets. At which point she told me that they close at 4 o’clock. It was three fifty-five.

So we went to the amusements instead...


They're a lot cheaper, and you get to watch pensioners in wheelchairs playing bingo.