Beside the tram tracks that run all the way down to Blackpool and the Pleasure Beach, just along from the hulking iron anchor embedded in the pavement at the start of Fisherman’s Walk, they were doing a brisk trade at The Eating Plaice as kick-off edged closer.
One of the ladies behind the counter upbraided a customer who was taking his plate of fish and chips through to the restaurant. ‘You’ve done yourself there, love,’ she said. ‘If you’d ordered in there, you could have had fish and chips, mushy peas, a brew and bread and butter for £10.95.’
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