The Longest Day saw The Visitor video team out in force in Morecambe and Lancaster...and here is the result.
To mark the official start to the summer, we took part in a Johnston Press project called #longestlocalday where we were asked to produce an online video on the longest day of the year.
Our reporters went out on Friday, June 21, to film some of the iconic scenes and symbols of Morecambe on camera phones.
Then our editing whiz Adam Lord put it all together into a video showing off the town in all its glory.
The soundtrack is provided by folk singer Dave Hodkinson from Lancaster, who now lives in Ontario, Canada.
Dave has written a song about his love for Morecambe called ‘Upon the Bay’.
We hope you enjoy our video and feel free to sing along with Dave’s lyrics below.
A big thank you to Northern Relics, Sean O’Hagan’s rock shop and Russell Walsh from Potts Pies for their help making this video.
UPON THE BAY by Dave Hodkinson
Cockle stalls, beach balls, donkeys on the sand. Arcades, sun shades, lovers hand in hand
Charabancs and landaus patrolling to and fro. Seven days in Morecambe with potted shrimp to go
Star turns, sun burns, taste the salty air. Carney calls, bingo halls, a week without a care
High tea in the village, a swig of nettle beer, although it’s dull and windy it’s a pleasure to be here
Tower clock, printed rock, printed carousel. Fun fair, fresh air, kiddies’ screams and yells
Woolworths for the ladies, betting slips for men, this place it takes the biscuit, we’re coming here again
Wading pool, act the fool, Punch and Judy booth. Bathing belle, kiss and tell, fish and chips to boot
Boat trips round the bay and back in time for tea, a change from daily drudgery and something new to see
Then charter flights to Spain became good value and the norm
The pier it disappeared, the victim of a storm
Boarding houses boarded up, the fairground tumbled down
No trains or coaches from the north, everything went south
No more mystery tours or 99’er treats.
Eric Morecambe’s early death the ultimate defeat
No Russian bears or deck chairs, both laws to themselves, like cotton mills and coal mines, they’re consigned to the shelf
The frenzy’s gone for sure now, we’re left with simpler tastes
Like panoramic vistas of sand banks and the lakes,
A brightly burning sunset, a tide that fills the bay
And dutifully changes things and does it twice a day
Though many things are vastly changed and I am far away
Sand grown’uns still are called to it, that town across the bay.