After hearing from a few people that Pisa is something of a dump, I wasn’t particularly looking forward to seeing it. Even though it’s something that has to be done.
But it was well worth the visit.
And, of course, this also had to be done …
It’s not remotely a dump. Come on, I live in Gateshead. Our only historic landmark (the Get Carter car park) was demolished years ago.
A few pictures from Rome.
The hotel wifi isn’t the best, so I might add more pictures later. Most are on a proper camera anyway.
I’ve only been here once before, way back in 2002 (I think). I’d forgotten how much there is to see.
Most important of all, it’s so easy to be a vegetariana and a vegano here.
Would you believe, I had to come to Italy to realise that a Sam Smith video was filmed on Gateshead’s high level bridge (saw the video in a bar).
How didn’t I know that? Not that I like the bloke’s music, but I do live in Gateshead.
My disappointment in the Wortley Almshouses being closed has turned to happiness since Charters is now open.
I know I’ve mentioned this previously, but it’s weirdly cool that there’s a little oasis of northern-ness in the south.
Currently in Wetherspoons, Corby.
The carpeting is still of the tartan variety.
It’s some time since we’d been to Charters, in Peterborough. There’ve been some changes.
I quite like the new look. An improved range of beer too.
Occasionally, usually when at a bar, or shopping, I’ll creep up on my second in command, put my hands on her waist (or back), and make a zombie-like noise in her ear. Sometimes, I’ll attempt a mock bite of her neck.
Such an opportunity presented itself at breakfast this morning. I approached with my usual stealth while she placed an egg on her plate. I opted for her waist and a small growl, since there were a lot of people around.
She didn’t jump as high as usual; I realised that she may have become accustomed to my attacks. And then my second in command appeared from behind me, offering a plate. At this point I noticed the poor woman I’d just assaulted, looking around in a confused manner.
An apology was proffered.
Traffic en route to Manchester yesterday was terrible, leading to a late arrival and virtually no time for pre-gig beer.
After checking in, we headed straight for Oxford Road, where I introduced my companions to Big Hands. We then walked at pace to the Arena, where we encountered a queue of great magnitude.
Worried that we’d miss some of the gig, we began to regret the pre-departure drinks in Gateshead and our one drink in Big Hands. After what seemed like an eternity, we discovered the cause of the queue; airport-like security, complete with metal detectors. The large queue was being filtered through a half dozen security lanes.
Once inside, beer was hurriedly purchased before finding a suitable viewing point. Then, within a few minutes, the band came on stage.
And delivered an incredible performance. I won’t say more, it’s all here. But I’ve been struggling to get the theme tune from Peaky Blinders out of my head all day.
It was so good, I only have one rather pathetic picture and nothing uploaded to Youtube.
Afterwards, we hastily reunited and set off for Sinclair’s Oyster Bar and the Shakeapeare, both of which were no longer serving. Which meant a march back to Oxford Road, where we found a Wetherspoon’s open. Just. After a quick beer, we relocated to the more favourable surroundings of the Temple. All but one of my companions hadn’t been there before, but I’m sure they’ll all return.
Food followed, then it was back to Big Hands until closing time at two.
On our return this afternoon, a farewell drink was a must before we all went our separate ways. With fond memories of Mr Cave’s performance in the company of nice people.
I had a pleasant day with gentlemen in Ouseburn yesterday. We began in Gateshead in Station East, crossing over the river to the Bridge Hotel. Then we called off at the Bridge Tavern and the Tyne Bar, before walking to the Cumberland Arms. And the Cluny, of course. And Arch 2. Afterwards, there were cabs back to town and the newly opened Newcastle Tap.
Incapable of my usual, local nightcap, I retired early.
Waking early this morning, I fitted the last piece of stove pipe, so I now have a working chimney.
This afternoon, we’re off to Chase Park festival, which isn’what I’d really call a festival, and isn’t actually in Chase Park. This year, it’s just down the road in Saltwell Park.
After a meeting in Longbenton, with a metro back to town, I’ve just walked up Northumberland Street.
Now, I do like Newcastle. It’s a small big city and a lot of the buildings are pretty attractive. Generally, it’s a nice place.
However, most cities in the UK, most cities probably, have a nasty underbelly. Walking up Northumberland Street, I noticed a police car and van, parked close together. Then, on the opposite side of the street, I saw two policemen with a couple of classy gentlemen. They were both probably a lot younger than me, but looked as though years of heavy smoking and drinking, and god knows what else, had aged them prematurely. One was talking to the policemen and was quite animated. He was speaking loudly, but the increased volume didn’t seem to be helping the officers to understand him. The other gentleman appeared to be unwell, he was having problems with remaining upright.
Within a short distance, two more officers were chatting with another gentleman. One officer must have been cold, he was wearing purple gloves. He seemed to be embracing the man, who also appeared to have a desire to lie down.
And, now, I have arrived at my destination, the Town Mouse, where I can pass a little time with a very nice pint of beer. Almasty Pilsner on this occasion.
Well, a man shouldn’t waste an early finish.