You only really know yourself

See that lady stood at the bus stop? She's miserable because she wrote her brand new car off yesterday. 

See that old man, with the tweed jacket and flat cap, over there? He buried his wife yesterday; his eyes are red from all the crying.  

See the little boy in the green coat going down that slide over there? He's here with his auntie, putting on a brave face, because his parents are getting divorced today. And he has to choose mummy or daddy. 

And the cashier at the supermarket this morning? The one you called a 'moody little bitch'. She's like that because she's supporting her step-mother through her cancer treatments - she's usually grinning from ear to ear. 

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Anybody can walk through town judging every person they come in to contact with; on their face value. And sadly, a lot of us do. But next time you walk down the street and see a homeless man begging for spare change, take a moment to think past the stereotype. And consider why he may really be in the situation he's in. Just like the lady you saw earlier, struggling to walk, who was no less than size 22. She may not actually be the product of a chocolate addiction.  

Truth is, when there's something wrong it's hard to hide. No matter who you are. You think you're putting on a face but in reality it's branded across your emotion. 

And the real reality and truth is we never know anybody better than they know themselves. Not our best friends. Not our own mother. So think before you speak. Think before you judge. And take a little time to understand that the person in front of you may have problems deeper in their personality than you've ever delved.  

The 2014 Blackpool; decades from its original state

Bright lights. Illuminations. The Golden Mile. Arcades. The Pleasure Beach. Rock. Candy floss. The promenade. And Blackpool Tower; all 158m of it. 

It's the Las Vegas of the North. Well...lol. 

To the outsider, Blackpool may be fun, exciting and the perfect place for a quick and crazy weekend away. But to the local, it's just home and nothing more than a template awaiting stags and hens every week in their thousands. 

Today, for the first time since the last, we walked down the promenade around central pier. If I'm truly honest, I'm speechless. 

Visitors to our town see the promenade and everything else I mentioned above. The tourist attractions so to speak. And while the paint cracks off the front of buildings, the shutters of the seafront shops continue to rust and the abandoned shops deteriorate over the weeks, Blackpool is making a name for itself. Not a good one. 

As we walked along the endless row of rock shops, my grandad began to reminisce about the good old days where he owned a rock stall. Everyday is another anecdote, or just a repeat of yesterday's, about the bustling seafront back when he was in his 20's and 30's having the time of his life. From what I can gather, piecing the various stories together, the seafront was the money maker. And not only because of the umpteen amusements. It was a community that people could only dream about being part of and everybody knew everybody. The best part is, they seemed to work together. 

Walk down the promenade tomorrow and you'll find yourself amidst chavs in trackies. But the consolation is you'll win a stuffed toy you didn't even know you needed. So they promise. And if you're the lucky 1 in a million who does, good luck lugging that around for the day. Failing that, you'll squander a pocket full of change in the amusements and leave with a rusty keyring and sour face. 

I'm from Blackpool. So I can say this. 

Say a bad word about the place if you're not local...and it'll be the last thing you do.