At precisely 0815 on August the 6th, 1945, America ushered the world into the Atomic Age by dropping the 'Little Boy' device on the heavily populated Japanese city of Hiroshima. The resulting explosion levelled 70% of the city and killed 30% of the population immediately. Living through this horrific scene of catastrophe and misery that followed the bombing would still be better than staying a week in Bridlington. For my sins, I have been forced into this unenviable position. Bridlington sits on the east coast of Yorkshire. The town actually perches on the highest area for coastal erosion rate in Europe. This is the best thing about Bridlington as it means the fucking town will soon no longer exist. I arrived at my B&B last night and immediately set out to find somewhere to eat. I searched high and low, in every nook and every cranny, up hill and down dale, but could I find anywhere open to eat? Could I fuck. It would seem that Bridlington is closed on a Monday. It is probably closed every day, to be honest.(this was written three days ago. It's taken that long for me to finish this post as Bridlington has sapped my will to live...)
When I was a callow youth, I was taken to Bridlington, again, against my better wishes. The only memory I have of that trip was a visit to a waxworks museum. This place was so bad and dilapidated that the exhibits
looked like melted candles. I distinctly remember the Elephant Man model was much more disfigured and fear inducing than John Merrick himself. In fact, John Merrick looked like a fucking supermodel by comparison. This is the only thing I knew about Bridlington and nothing has changed since then. Bridlington had its heyday in 1956 and never looked back. Mind you, it never looked forward either. It's been stuck in the 1950's ever since. I will post up some photos of Bridlington over the weekend, then you will know the true horror of this place.
You would be better off reading the latest Pledge Manner's review (
for this book) rather than thinking too hard about Bridlington:
