There’s nothing like having something at the back of your mind – that little voice that gets weaker over time but never goes away. That squirming little worm that keeps worritin away, getting its oar in whenever there’s a spare moment – why not do it now? Just get yourself to the computer and do it, go on, you know you’ll feel better afterwards. So, this is the moment, after 2 months of pretty intense work oop north I’ve found the energy to write this post, not a long one even, as I can’t remember a lot but it has taken such a long time to get round to it.

So here we are in Preston, for a splendid celebration of god knows how many years of hard graft on the part of my wonderful niece – a party to usher her in to the big bad adult world of work – she will be the young girl sitting in the chair that’s too big for her at the local GP’s or the overworked frontline warrior in the emergency department – bless her.

Our road out of Preston is tedious, a slog along a busy road – thankfully it does sometimes offer a narrow pavement, cycle path or grass verge. At Freckleton we turn left on to what is somewhat euphemistically called the Lancashire Coast Path – a walk along a muddy trickle which will eventually flow into the River Dribble (sorry Ribble).

There is a short stretch through some woodland before we reach the river bank where a trig point gives Damian a chance to indulge in his King of the Hill fantasy.

………………..here we turn right and follow the muddy edge of the marshes until the path heads inland, through tight thickets of long grass, past Warton Aerodrome and on into Lytham.

After the calm of the marshes it is quite a shock to be thrown up onto the A584 but it looks like Lytham has quite a lot to offer and plenty of possibilities for tea and cake.

The windmill disappoints as it offers only a museum (which is closed) so we decide to head inland and find a cafe in the town.

Lytham is busy – holidaymakers with children and dogs fight for seats outside the many cafes and restaurants in this otherwise prim little Victorian town, but we get lucky.

Refuelled we follow the road out of town, past what I originally think is a mosque but what later turns out to be a United Reformed Church known as the White Church. We decide not to take a look inside as time is short and we have a graduation party to go to.

Past the boating lake our direction is through an area of sand dunes and the sun comes out.

Soon the pier at St. Anne’s comes into view and after braving the bedlam of the amusement arcade we walk out as far as we can and find somewhere to sit in the sun.

Reading about the pier later I discover that it has survived two fires and since its construction in 1885 has been the venue for a host of attractions including a winter garden, concert hall, crazy golf, miniature zoo, aviary, reptile house and Tyrolean style beer hall. Stars to tread the boards include George Formby, Yehudi Menuhin and our very own Gracie Fields.

It has been an uneventful walk but good to be back on the trail again.

Distance: 12 miles