I always had a feeling about Morecambe. Something just sang inside at the thought of it and then bust into a full-blown aria as I joined the stream of traffic that wended its way along the promenade. I had been in touch with Kate at Sunset Ices and was keen to track her down. It's so interesting encountering other post-Mr Whippy mobilers and the website also sang to me a bit too.
There she was parked outside the resurrected art deco Midland hotel. I went round and round the roundabout before making a dash for it and traversing the cyclists lane and onto the promenade, actual. Kate had said she was happy for me to trade on her pitch with her but I was too enraptured by everything to even think of opening up the hatch. I roamed around like a ravaged old coyote, licking my chops with glee at the pure, uninhibited kitsch of the place.
Kate gave me an Angostura Ice which flicked my switches still further and I hung out in her van with her while she worked. Fascinating to be in the passenger seat of someones elses operation. She does all these retro treats like Oysters and Snowball Toppers and has jars and jars of sprinkles which the kids receive with total glee. The Midland was winking at me through the window so I set off to try and persuade one of the builders to show me around. This was achieved by impressing upon this one hot guy that I wasn't in town for long and would miss the big opening ceremony on Sunday.
"Ok, but if the boss comes then just keep yer 'ead down" he warned.
"Don't worry - let's just walk about like we own the joint and if that fails I've got a whole van full of chocolate outside" I assured him.
He then gave me the most comprehensive tour of this grand old dame I could have wished for - round the kitchens, the spa, the bar, the ballroom - up the curling stairs to the penthouse suite and onto the rooftop. I beamed happily away at all the hard-hats who looked like they had shed loads to do before the place could be opened and then dodged off when they started yelling for me to give my guide my phone number. I might have handed it over but I had to get back onto my and Jimmy's beloved moors.