Eating Mongolian chicken in Corbridge ...

I'd seen a worn trombone in The Robin Hood Inn - next to it was a Royal typewriter, its keys tied together in a knot of letters -

The pub sign depicted Richard Green, clasping a long bow - I remembered his pencil moustache - 

I had my first Chinese in Corbridge that evening - I thought I was in Shoreditch - 

Pristine cars were parked outside severe stone cottages - in one shop, I saw a beautiful pale blue shirt - 

Next day, the taxi driver told us Alan Davies lived in the village - 

Cherubs blew trumpets on the gravestones in the churchyard - there was memorial tablet in the church to the quarter master of the Rifle Brigade - 

An honourable man, he looked beyond the grave, and gave every assurance that he was a Christian -

I ate Mongolian Chicken in The Artisan - it was still light when we left the high ceilinged room - 

20.30

July 7 2014

Corbridge 

  

By the banks of the Tyne

We walked from Tynemouth to Newburn, never far from the Tyne - 

The path took us past Swan Hunter's silent yard - a sun burnt fisherman told us there were fish still to be caught in the mysterious water - 

Penny's niece, Helen, joined us at Wallsend - she was clever and wry - she told me about going out on the yards on tall ships - we swopped anecdotes from The Lives of the Caesars - 

We walked through the centre of Newcastle, under tremendous bridges - we saw beds of silky silvery mud uncovered by the tide - 

Calm horses grazed next to housing estates, watched over by serious girls - 

We drank northern tea at the Boat House - Helen had to leave us here, returning to Durham - 

 

The waters of the Great Flood would have been above our heads - 

16.00

July 5 2014

The Boathouse 

Water Row

Newburn

The attic room in Tynemouth ...

I arrived at Number 61, Front Street, rainswept and wide eyed - I could see the North Sea and the mouth of the Tyne - there was a shattered priory upon a headland - two Northumbrian kings and a Scottish King were buried there - 

My attic room gave me a view of the sea - rain water glistened upon slate roofs - there were two cellars beneath this ancient stone house -

Soon after my walking companions had arrived, there'd been a power cut - bravos gathered outside the Art Bar - inside the bar, there were bold paintings upon the walls - ceiling fans whirled - I thought - Richard would like this place -  

We went back into Newcastle to eat - there were skinny boys in hoodies on the Metro - 

Penny and Julia had gone to Newcastle University, Alyson to Edinburgh - they swopped precious stories - 

On our return to Tynemouth, we walked towards the sea - it was dark, the moon hidden by clouds - small boats were drawn up upon the beach - we could see the lights of South Shields - 

20.30

July 4 2014

Tynemouth 

Being a flaneur in Newcastle ...

I arrived in Newcastle yesterday - I made my way to the Travelodge, clutching my India grip, breathing the northern air - 

Newcastle Central Station was like a noble temple, a reef of severe stone - 

Strolling in Quayside, I gazed at the iconic bridges - that evening there was a crescent moon in the pale sky - 

Today, I spoke to two women in The Sage - above us were swooping galleries of glass and chrome - 

In The Baltic, I stared down at the city from the viewing box - I could see the river and the graceful whip of the Millenium Bridge -

By chance I entered the library of the Philosophical and Literary Society -statuary adorned the marble stairs - bearded philanthropists were depicted in dark oils - 

In The Great Northern Museum, there were relics from The Wall - there was a stone head of Dionysus - I avoided the god's wild blank stare -

I supped on seabass in The Big Mussel, listening to Chet Baker - 

Neptune stood upon the portico of the Fish Market, now a teeming eatery - wedding parties spilled from pink stretch limos -  

I'm now on the Metro to Tynemouth - it's raining - 

The rest of the walking gang are on their way - 

3.52

July 4 2014

Benton

Newcastle Metro

Hadrian's Wall 2014 (2)

The Newcastle Train ...

I'm sitting on the Newcastle train in Kings Cross, platform 3 - on Saturday, I'll start the walk along Hadrian's Wall, from Wallsend to Bowness on Solway - 

I gulped down a cappuccino in the shiny  concourse - 

Jay told me once they try to make railway stations look just like airports  -  

A nervy crowd surged forward when the train for Sunderland was announced - an

American woman narrowed her eyes in the station Starbucks - a willowy black boy kept close to her - 

The train is now leaving the station - we're moving swiftly past Victorian terraces and lagoons of 1930's villas - 

We're accelerating - already I'm looking forward to see northern skies, to gaze upon the Tyne - 

1.45

July 3 2014

The East Coast Newcastle Train

Just north of London

Hadrian's Wall 2014 (1)

The wall behind the church ...

We were familiar now with the psychogeography of Havant - we knew where mobility scooters would gather, where a spring once burst from the dark earth - 

Union Road marked the site of the workhouse - the Parchment Makers was a den of pale boys - watercress grew in the stream by the dual carriageway - there were two markets a week in the pedestrianised precinct - girls in trackies sold e cigarettes - 

Behind the churchyard was a gracious alleyway, between lichened gravestones and a mossy wall - we would linger there, 

relishing our respite from the airless lounge, my dad restive in his armchair - 

30 June 2014

Havant

The strange flowers ...

Turning my eyes from a poster promoting Armed Forces Day, I glanced at the vast hedge brushing my shoulder - 

I'd just walked past the Catholic Church  - there was a coffee morning being held inside -

Old people, I thought, have bones made of glass - 

The hedge concealed the garden of a former council house - a Nissan Qashqai glowed in the driveway - 

Strangely shaped flowers were scattered amongst the dark green leaves like bizarre jewels - 

8.45

29 June 2014

West Street 

Havant