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I've a good friend who lives by the sea, you can sit in her first floor living room and look out over Morecambe Bay towards the horizon. Tilt your head left and squint, there's Blackpool Tower, tilt right and the mountains of the Lake District command the landscape. The light is constantly flickering and changing, colours appear and then they're gone, rain lashes in, moves on, the sun breaks through. Like sitting watching an open fire, it stirs something primal. I'd travelled to Morecambe with another friend and we both sat mesmerised trying to keep up with show, listening to the sound of waves through the open door.
I've photographed Morecambe itself many times. I'd love to see it rise again and be the bustling, stylish place it once was. If Blackpool was a person it would be Bet Lynch, whereas Morecambe once had higher aspirations and would've played a good Annie Walker. These days there are sparks of optimism and some interesting events and refurbishments, but there is a long way to go and lots of neglected, faded grandeur. It always makes a fascinating day out, especially if you pack a camera, and if more of us visited and contributed to it's economy it's in with more of a chance.