The pub almost under the tower wasn’t called the punch and hammer, but it served a very good pale ale. It was a locals’ pub, too, a usually reliable sign of a lack of rip–off.

The trams rattle–rolled, and from them I realised Blackpool is serious about its arts. There were some stunning installations on the promenade. I wonder if this city would be a good place to set up a revolutionary arts community? It’s cheap, the major requirement for an arts community, and it has light, which helps a lot too. Furthermore, the middle class so hate the place that it’d keep the deeply destructive, self–appointed guardians of the fit and proper, far far away.