the real world, the developers went bust and a plan to turn it into a two-star Holiday Inn Express was approved last year. A bit of a sad end for a pleasing railway building.

I like Southport. It's a very easy town to walk round, with its wide boulevard through the centre and its ornate arcades. It's classy enough to maintain a good level of shops and restaurants, but also has that pleasingly tacky underside that all good seaside resorts should have. It's not at Blackpool levels - heaven forbid - but there are still gaudily lit arcades and cheap bars in amongst the tea rooms and boutiques.

It has a gentility and a slight prissiness which stops it from being the Brighton of the North (and it's not nearlyas gay), but it's hard not to be charmed as you take in its attractions. The park is well laid out and has a sweet little miniature railway, there's a carousel on the front, and the war memorial is one of the finest in the country.

I met up with Jennie, and we took a stroll along the pier. When we first met, fifteen years ago, Southport meant one thing for us: Manhattan's, the incredibly dodgy club Edge Hill students used to travel to on a Monday night for random hook-ups and cheap beer. The first time I went I was given a free bottle of Diamond White just for walking through the door. Jennie was always a more committed Manhattanite, but I still went now and then, pogo-ing