After I’d dropped the kids off at the Pleasure Beach for the day and walked along the prom for half an hour, I dragged my long suffering husband round the back streets of Blackpool looking for a half decent place to rest my weary trotters. I declared we should go to the Winter Gardens. The last time I had been here was in 2004, for a Morrissey concert. I opened one of the heavy front doors (chivalry is not dead), my husband followed me up the stone steps and we made our way across the concourse towards the doors which were signed “cafe”. We passed an empty bar to our left and a posh looking restaurant to our right before we meandered into Mazzei’s. I counted fifteen customers in an area which could have easily accommodated a couple of hundred people. Behind the counter, a lone, bequiffed member of staff, busying himself at the coffee machine. Me and Danny (aforementioned husband) dithered at the fridges over what we wanted to eat. I fancied a brownie, then I changed my mind and wanted an egg and cress sandwich on brown. I settled upon a scone, Danny had the brownie. Monsieur Pedant said later that the brownie was in fact not a brownie, but a chocolate cake. In addition I asked for jam and butter with my scone; drinks were two lattes. Quiff man announced the total to be £8.90, then without taking our remittance, he walked away and started preparing my scone. Another male member of staff appeared and asked if we were ok. I told him we were being seen to. Preston Guild came and went and then our coffees and comestibles were ready, we paid and off we went to sit down. A woman and another couple were served after us. The place is immaculately clean, no crumbs, no lingering smells of dishcloths, no loud music, no unwelcome radio stations. We settled at a large round table, kicked off our shoes and took in the ambience and surroundings. I was at peace in Blackpool. Happy as a sandboy. Wonderful food, amazing coffee and scintillating conversation with my gorgeous husband. As the froth from my latte was sinking into my top lip something cought my eye to the right. A coach party of old people had arrived. To my relief, they were not customers but part of a guided tour of The Winter Gardens. I shushed Danny several times to ear wig their tour guide. I heard, to my absolute pleasure, that the interior plasterwork of this very cafe had been covered up since the 1960s and had recently been found completely intact during the recent multi million pound refurbishment. The plasterwork had been designed by the renowned film set designer, Andrew Mazzei. The guide quickly ushered her charges through to the next room and as I lumped jam on my scone I felt like that Pennine farmer who wouldn’t sell up when the M62 motorway was built. I overheard an elderly lady say that she thought the “plasterwork” curtains were real curtains, she didn’t think anyone would be able to tell they were not real. Danny thought they were real curtains too.
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