My Ubuntu phone seems to be permanently signed into YouTube as my grandchild, so I’m unable to upload a video directly from the phone. Instead, I must connect to the PC to copy, then upload from there. Hence the belated posting of a clip from last Wednesday’s Augustines gig.
At some point I may also add the video of our bus journey across Manchester (the day tickets were a bargain at only four quid).
Today, my evening was spent in Whitley Bay. It’s a place associated with both pleasant and less so experiences. I used to take my kids there when they were little. Usually, we’d have chips at the beach. They were cooked in palm oil; ethically questionable nowadays, but better than melted down cows or pigs, as was the norm at the time. And, when a marriage that shouldn’t have been went tits up a few years ago, I found a B&B there to escape the madness.
This evening was spent in the Fat Ox, where a band played. Unfortunately, the band play mostly heavy rock. And I’m not too keen on such things. But, they were actually OK. I wouldn’t commit to more than OK though.
I left earlier than planned, since my second in command was unwell. So my virtual post-it note, with late Metro times, wasn’t of much use.
I should inform the casual reader that my companion this evening usually arrives (when in Newcastle or Gateshead) with a post-it filled with Metro times.
Arriving in Gateshead, with an urgent need to empty my bladder, I ran walked casually to the Tilley Stone. After using the facilities, I realised I’d missed the last bus. And, so, there was no alternative other than an ixat.
Home now.
Home from a couple of days in Kings Cliffe. Had a nice time there, caught up with Gordon (my second in command’s dad). And his cats, Tom Spanner and Jess. Sadly, I do not recall the name of the recently departed cat with the breathing problem.
Anyway, the village has one pub. Yes, just one. A horrible thought, isn’t it. We may have spent an hour or two in the Cross Keys yesterday.
Of relevance is the £2.50 a pint offer for January. Which, for a usually expensive pub, we found to be excellent value for money. Of course, it was important to support local businesses too, so we stayed longer than planned.
Since my second in command is still broken, we were reliant on trains, so had an early lift into Peterborough this morning. Where we had breakfast. In the Draper’s Arms.
And then there was a train to Durham. Yes, Durham. Rail maintenance meant that there was a bus from Durham to Newcastle.
It’s nice to be home. Via Tilley’s, the Forth, the Town Wall, the Bridge Hotel and the Tuns, that is.
Recently, my second in command has been experimenting with transport.
She was quite impressed with the stop button on buses, which emits a siren-like noise. Today, we visited our local hospital, where my second in command’s foot was scanned. We only need to wait 10-14 days for the results.
We’re hoping that’s some form of expectation management and that we’ll soon have an outcome. After our disappointment, we went, by wheelchair to our local.
Where people made a special romantic table for us.
And then there was a £1.60 cab home (with a massive tip).
I quite like the angel on top of the Go-Northeast Christmas tree.
Might have to purchase (or make) one for next year.
While on the bus home from work this evening, waking from my slumber not far from my stop, a man sitting opposite engaged me in conversation.
Slurring heavily, he asked if I was on my way to work. I replied in the negative, stating that i’d finished for the day. He said that I was fortunate, finishing so early. Noticing my confusion, he said, you’re not a doorman?
Again, I said not. He was quite apologetic, but commented that I had a nice coat.
My temporary companion appeared not to recall our very similar bus conversation of an evening around last Christmas. Perhaps we shall meet again next year.
Yes, slush, not snow. Yesterday, I was forced to delay my planned Christmas shopping and, instead, spend time in a pub.
And all because modern buses are unable to cope with slush on our hill. My journey from Washington to Newcastle was not possible after a couple of hours of snow. My bus had to turn back when attempting to reach our street; other buses were already stuck on the hill and my double decker was sliding from side to side.
My bus ride ended at Gateshead Interchange, where I realised that a return from Newcastle by public transport wouldn’t happen in the near future. So, I had a couple of bottles of Tucher in ‘Spoons while waiting in vain for bus services to our hill to resume. Eventually, I gave up when a bus to Low Fell arrived, walking from there to my local.
I may attempt some shopping today.
Since public transport isn’t great at this time of day (6:30 train), and as it’s quite mild outside, I walked into town this morning.
Walking over the high level bridge, I could see my second in command’s new workplace. It doesn’t really work in a picture though.
While on a train from Birmingham this afternoon, I noticed some random rail (purposeful) graffiti
Ok, so a little I imagination is required. But it wasn’t me. After all, I’d have been more artistic.
Having missed a bus in Washington this evening, I decided to kill time with a quick beer in the Oasis; a decision I instantly regretted. It’s without question the vilest place on earth
