May 3, 2010

“When a man tires of Morecambe, he tires of…” or is that, “Tired of life? Come to Morecambe”? I forget which. Anyway, tired of Morecambe, we spent bank holiday Sunday in Southport. Lead skies and blowing a gale – it was just the weather for my ongoing (and never ending) photo essay on melancholy at the English seaside. This has been going on so long, it was started on film, so has to continue on film. So no image of yesterday is available, so you’ll have to trust me. Meanwhile, here’s a Southport shot from the archives. Photography was interrupted by a bike ride, which was nice. Mrs Dave got many admiring comments – because she had a City top on – she apparently was also spotted on Match of Day trying to invade the pitch again.



  1. Class!

  2. Eric Morecambe’s comment about leaving the dead at bus stops comes to mind.

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