Atomic Target Lancashire

Few foods evoke 1980s nostalgia better than crisps and packets of savoury snacks. Be it a bag of Salt & Shake crisps snaffled on the school run, a packet of Monster Munch scoffed at the office or a bag of Scampi Fries polished off with a pint at the pub on a Friday night, one taste of those salty treats and memories of the eighties come flooding back for those who were there. Crisps and snacks were the ultimate convenience food for the fast-paced Yuppie era, allowing those in a hurry to grab and quickly scoff a bag of Frazzles before getting back to their Filofax. Teens could scarf down a bag of Chipsticks and then hotfoot it back to their game of Pacman; busy mums could gobble some Quavers while bending and stretching along to their Jane Fonda workout tape. In short, crisps and snacks were handy to have in an emergency, a fact that did not go unnoticed by nuclear war planners at the height of the Cold War... In 1983, local government officials drawing up war plans for Lancashire c...

Blackpool rock: the perfect souvenir of a traditional British seaside holiday. One nibble on that stick of stripy sugar, and many a homeward bound holiday maker has been transported back to happy memories of their time by the sea. The fruity flavour, the mystery of how they make the tiny letters inside the stick, the little picture of the Blackpool tower on the label… All these elements make a stick of rock the sweetest thing to remember a holiday by. Blackpool rock’s nostalgic properties would have taken on a far more sinister air if nuclear had ever broken out, however. Thanks to chilling plans made by Lancashire County Council in 1983, survivors of a thermonuclear attack would have found themselves sucking on sticks of rock amidst radioactive rubble, the holiday memento having become one of their main sources of nutrition and energy. Far from reminding survivors of a pleasant jaunt beside the seaside, the sticks of rock would serve as haunting relics of a world lost forever in the s...

Rebecca Shaw Dinner ladies loom large for many people in their memories of school days. Some are remembered fondly, as kindly grandma-like figures who smilingly served bubble and squeak and rice pudding to hungry kiddies. Other dinner ladies are recalled as tyrannical characters who were determined to see every morsel of meat devoured by every terrified child. I remember a lunch monitor – she shall remain anonymous – who scooped mashed potato out of a vat with her bare hands rather than a spoon, and who declared that any crumb dropped or blob of soup spilled would have to be licked off the floor by the guilty party. Yikes. These horrors would pale into insignificance, however, compared to the nightmarish role that dinner ladies would have played if nuclear war had ever broken out. For during the Cold War, plans were afoot that would have seen hair-netted school meals staff forced to serve ‘stew type’ meals to nuclear attack survivors, with the threat of punishment or starvation if the...

From Nuclear Test Veteran to Lancaster's 'Favourite Tramp': The 'Life Less Ordinary' of Bernard Downhill (Just a quick heads up, this article deals with themes including self-harm and suicide. Proceed with caution if these are sensitive issues for you. Thanks, Rebecca.) 'Your own local authority will best be able to help you in war. If you move away — unless you have a place of your own to go to or intend to live with relatives — the authority in your new area will not help you with food or other essentials. So stay at home.' The message in the infamous nuclear war pamphlet Protect and Survive was clear: if you fled your home after the Bomb had dropped, you were on your own. Stray outside the perceived safety of your blast-damaged / roofless / windowless/ burning house, and your local government, safely ensconced in a cosy bunker somewhere, would do nothing for you. In order to survive in the post-nuclear attack world, you would have to rely upon your own te...

Gallery of Terror: Abandoned Places of Lancashire In the absence of actual photographs of a Lancashire nuclear wasteland with which to adorn the blog, I thought I'd bring you the next best thing: photos of the county's grottiest and most fascinating abandoned places. You'll just have to imagine the mushroom clouds and radioactive fallout for yourself.  (All photographs by me, Rebecca Shaw) Gordon Café Billiard Hall and Bar, Lancashire Street, Morecambe  The Gordon Cafe was the place to be seen for Morecambe billiard enthusiasts back in 1899. The swish redbrick corner building glittered with stained glass windows, carved interiors and an elaborate mosaic entranceway proudly declaring the name of the owners, Mr. and Mrs. Moore. Now, the building stands decaying, it's beautiful windows concealed down a fenced-off alley, while its doorway is littered with bottles.  Late 1980s/early 1990s 'Videos' sign, Albert Road, Morecambe  'Videos' The corner shop this ol...