My old grandma and grandad, who died in the 70s, went to Blackpool every summer for about 50 years - firstly in a charabanc from the Shepherd's Boy in Oldham in the 20s.
When I was little we would go down to see them on hols - didn't have to arrange a rendezvous - they were always in the Manchester Hotel at lunchtime (and probably evening). Me I just dug big holes in the sand.
“I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly.”