Flashing lights, buzzing bumpers, flippers firing, the streaking silver ball ricocheting across the brightly coloured surface – yes, the game of pinball is a particular favourite of mine. Not that I’m any good at it, mind you – I just like to play. There’s something wonderfully hypnotic about those clanging and banging machines that’s otherworldly and magnetic.

Pinball is undeniably cool. It’s rock’n’roll. I mean, The Who didn’t sing a classic rock tune called Playstation Wizard, did they?

The tables are also undeniably a thing from the past, of course. I quite often visit Rhyl, once the arcade capital of North Wales, but sadly the pinball machines in that resort have disappeared over the last several years. Now replaced by modern shoot ’em up video games – or worse, grabber machines – it seems pinball has long since been relegated to history.

Pubs were also a source of pinball fun. Back in the early 90s, The Addams Family machine graced by local boozer. In my student days, we often spent a few quid we couldn’t afford on a pint and some games of Fishy Tales.

Imagine my joy, when on our recent trip to Whitby, a stroll along the harbour front revealed a retro arcade in residence over one of the regular arcades. Up there were numerous old school arcade games from years gone by: Space Invaders, Donkey Kong, Ms Pac Man. And over there, across the room, a row of pinball machines…

There were four: the classic Addams Family and Terminator 2, plus a couple I assume are much more recent, Avengers and Ghostbusters. Over joyed to see them, I happily plugged a few pound coins into each and played some games.

My first attempts at Addams Family and Ghostbusters were pretty enjoyable, successful games. That may have been luck rather than skill though. I fared much worse at Avengers Infinity Quest and Terminator. Repeat games didn’t improve my scores, for the most part!

The skill with pinball always seemed to be learning all about a particular table, studying it’s unique features over several games to increase the players ability. Luck was always a factor, but just a couple of games without exploring the idiosyncrasies of a machine never seemed to deliver much reward.

Playing those pinball tables was fun, though. And ridiculously satisfying when I was able to shoot the ball up a ramp or runner, setting off the lights and unleashing a torrent of noise. Contrasted with the desolation of a ball sinking dead, between the flippers and escaping into oblivion when I hadn’t hit it once.

Whitby is a long trek from home. There must be other pinball tables near…