Another Fine Mess
I don't have too much to say about Ulverston, except that we circled the town three times looking for a parking space. I would also like to come clean about the evil thoughts I had about that elderly gent in the Jaguar who demonstrated the fine art of the three-point-turn in thirty-seven points. Yes, I did secretly wish for his foot to slip off the clutch when that bin lorry came past, but I didn't really mean it.
Nor do I want to detain you with my critique of the organic, vegetarian tea-room where diners were invited to "enjoy additional seating upstairs" but on condition that no waiting staff would appear until the Autumn.
Instead I'll recommend the Laurel & Hardy museum which I explored on my own when the Zedettes responded to the names with blank expressions. I mean, what are they teaching in schools these days!
The (£3 entry fee) is housed in the dank and claustrophobic childhood home of Stan Laurel himself and, on first sight, looks like an untidy collection of yellowed newspaper cuttings and bric-a-brac.Yet each item told a story and, in an adjoining room they have bolted some old cinema seats to the floor and you can watch old Laurel & Hardy movies on a big plasma screen.
The museum seemed to have been the life's work of one devoted fan who died some years ago. To that extent it had there was an air of sadness about the place which doesn't square with the slapstick comedy of Stan & Ollie. It's crying out for some proper investment and, come to think of it, a radio series.
It seems that Stan Laurel was a prolific letter writer and prided himself on responding personally to every fan. I'm not sure is those letters - some of which are on display in the museum - have ever been collated and made into any kind of programme.
But it would be a great listen.
