Blackpool

blackpool

 

One of my worst memories was when I went to Blackpool with some friends.  One of them got involved in some carny game throwing hoops over some sticks that probably didn’t fit.

I stood to one side and encouraged my friend in his futile quest to win some money.  I did not realise that he spent £180 on the pointless task on what was some carny bullshit con.

I felt terrible, worse than he ever did to be honest.

I could not sleep that night, so come 5:30am I decided to go for a walk on the beach.  It was nice listening to the sea and forgetting all the fake rubbish that the town was.

I only let go off this guilt towards my friend five months ago, when, after he had blown more money on worthless crap, I realised he was an adult who could make his own decisions and as such live with the consequences.

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