We ditched my Mum and Dad and had a day out in Newcastle. I lived near Newcastle for 21 years and Darren worked there for a few years in the 90's so we both had memory lanes to troll down. Such a lovely city she is. We did the exhibitions at the new Baltic Contemporary Art Centre

(view from viewing box at top)

and had Italian for lunch overlooking the new foot bridge

then we bimbled around our old haunts till dusk.

We drove out to Gateshead as the sun was setting and spent a lovely half hour with the Angel Of The North. I had'nt seen it 'properly' before and was awe struck. Absolutely brilliant piece of public art. Eeeenorrrrmusssss.

We were the only ones there on a gorgeous February evening so I didn't feel a fool whispering to it as I watched the sun change the angels colours.
Here's me beside one of the huge feet

The wing span of the angel is the same as that of a 747 you know.

We were hungry again after saying our prayers in Gateshead so we drove back into Newcastle and headed to Chinatown for dinner (we noticed Bloc Party were on at the Academy as we made our way to dinner but it was sold out). After food we hit the gay bars. I have nothing good to say about this experience so won't say anything. Which says it all really. Home by 11 just in time for Shameless on TV (and how crap was that finale?)

We went to every Northumbrian seaside town and village between Newbiggin and Alnmouth. All lovely and all selling great chips.
Craster (below) is famous for it's kippers but we don't eat them as they are fiddly and, even filleted, contain a million little bones. We did buy some kipper cakes at the smokery but even those were chock-a-block with bones. Yuck.

Alnmouth (below) is picture perfect. My Dad plays golf here weekly.

The beach and castle at Bamburgh are the classic Northumbrian scene stealers so instead here's a picture of the castle taken from the village looking towards the sea (looks lovely even with a skip and a road sign!):

Seahouses (below) is where the boat trips to The Farne Islands leave from but they don't start running until April. So, we had some chips and watched a blonde stud unload his crabs from his boat (despite being handled by the hunky fisherman we felt sorry for them).

Who needs Prague when you've got Berwick Upon Tweed. We fell in love with this border town and the day we visited the weather was just perfect. If it wasn't so far from a major city we'd be tempted to move there (by 'far' I mean a drive of under 45 mins).

Last Sunday we went hill walking in Thrunton Woods. Took my Mum, Dad and Edward too. This was the view half way through our climb.

Here's the gang, minus me, at the top:

Off to Northumberland today for a week or so to enjoy some 'proper' winter weather, do some hill walking, eat kippers in Craster, walk on wide and windy beaches and see my Mum and Dad.

It snowed overnight and the radio woke us with the news that London had come to a stand-still. Our street at 10am:

I threw on my sheepskin and headed straight to the park with Edward:

The park was deserted and looked so serene in its white blanket:

Before lunch Darren and I took Edward for a walk along the river Lea. It's never looked prettier:

After this picture was taken Edward fell in the canal while chasing a moor-hen. He was covered in mud and had to be showered when he got home.


I grew up in Northumberland so I'm used to seeing snow every year. Our schools were never closed 'due to snow' and you had to live five miles from the school before you would get a ride to the gates. I had a twenty minute walk to school every day but I knew others who walked for an hour and thought nothing of it.
There's a school five minutes walk from our house here in London and there are parents in our street who take their kids in the car every morning! Five fucking minutes!! And you know what their argument is? "Well, there are so many weirdo's out there nowadays". I'll take a guess that there aren't any more weirdo's out there now than when I was a kid. When I was growing up I was told horror stories about bad men and not accepting sweets or rides from strangers and this seemed to work. "Don't go near those toilets in the park" my Mum would say, and, "horrible things will happen to you if you go in there". Of course, when I was older I realised that she she didn't know jack-shit about those toilets and that the things that happened in there were not horrible at all. Quite the opposite actually, Mum.
Apologies if I seem a bit glib about 'bad men' and 'kids'. Horrible things do happen and I really wish they didn't.

Winter sunsets are great aren't they. Look at this beauty:
5pm, Sunday 4 Febuary, Blackpool (North Shore)

And then 30 minutes later:

I'm back in London now following an uneventful journey on the trains yesterday. I love the 15.02 from Preston to Euston. It doesn't stop once and steams into Euston in 2 hrs 10 mins. I gazed through the window listening to the last two Morrissey albums and I was so comfy and warm that I regretted the train arriving on time. Unfortunately I arrived back in London just in time for rush hour on the tube. A big bag and a jumpy dog (he hates crowds) makes for an awkward and uncomfortable journey. It was good to get home though. Darren brought in the Mika album last night and I'm onto the 3rd listen already and think it's just great. Scissor sisters comparisons are inevitable but this album beats the 2nd SS album hands down. The Klaxons and Bloc Party can't get a look-in at the stereo.

I watched Breakfast On Pluto last night and loved it. Written by that big bear of a man, Patrick McCabe, the story was episodic but didn't suffer for this. In fact, it suited the genre (weirdo growing up in small town, moving to London, discovering himself etc etc). Cillian Murphy was electric. Bryan Ferry was funny. Brendan Gleason was sexy. And Gavin Friday was in there somewhere (I saw the Virgin Prunes at Brixton Academy in 1982 and they were shit).

I rented series 1 of The Smoking Room from the local library and watched it all last night. What a depressing/funny/embarrassing show. I loved it. I recognised most of the 'types' from my days as a visitor to such rooms while working in big offices. I no longer smoke, I no longer work in an office and I don't miss either of these things.
I had an M&S seafood lingweeny while watching the first episode and I've shed 9 pounds in 3 weeks.


The temperature hardly ever gets down to freezing in Blackpool (coastal sea-air etc) but this morning everything was crispy white with frost and blinding in the sunshine. Edward went mental on the beach, racing around trying to get warm.

Warning - extremely boring journey post.
Tuesday last week. The 20.46 from Euston to Preston didn't arrive so we were shuttled onto the 20.50 to Wolverhampton and told to change at Milton Keynes where the 20.46 would meet us and take us to Preston. Naturally, when we arrived at MK there was no 20.46 and it was now 21.40. The 20.46 arrived at MK at 23.10 and there were 12 of us on a full sized Pendolino train (free teas and coffees too!). We arrived into Preston at 01.00. The last connection from Preston to Blackpool was at 00.06. Virgin trains bundled me and Edward into a taxi as soon as I got off the train and we arrived at our house at 01.30. This was all very annoying but Virgin went out of their way to make it as painless as possible. And because I was over an hour late I get half my train fare back.

Warning - Really boring domestic post.
Wednesday. The builder finally arrived to look at the roof at 15.30 (I'd waited in all day). He didn't bring a ladder but did bring binoculars. He peered through them and said that some slates were loose and that the seals on the skylight were worn. He couldn't give me a quote for the work but would send someone round with a ladder in the morning to have a better look and give me a price. By 5pm the next day no one had been (I waited in all day again) and I was quite annoyed. I called the builder and he lied to me by saying that one of his workmen had been to the house and taken a good look at the roof but that he had seen him yet to discuss the quote. I finished my call with him and called another builder. He told me he would call round at 9am the next morning to take a look. Guess what? He did turn up (on time), he did look at the roof and he did say he could do the repairs this Monday for under £200. He was hired. I called the original builder and told him that I had found a reputable contractor and I no longer needed him to create a quote. I'm sure I heard him mutter "fuck off" as I replaced the receiver. How rude.