Category: Up North Page 1 of 2

Sound Day Out – Nice one!

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On March 28, 2019

In Beer, Food, Food and drinks, Geordies, Stories, Up North

“How much can you see in a day trip out to Manchester?”

“Like everything in life, Sharon – it depends on how much effort you’re prepared to put into it,” said Mum with not one ounce of drollness.

A flying visit to Manchester, or should that be a train visit as that was our mode of transport, to enjoy an end of the week day out treat.

It was Thursday. It was drizzling. It was dreary.

Exiting the train at Victoria, as opposed to our usual Manchester Piccadilly, meant being greeted by the city from a different vantage point. The Printworks food and entertainment complex welcomes you as does the National Football Museum.

We had spent several visits to Manchester over last Summer so decided to visit the places we missed on our previous visits.

“I want to visit my favourite place in Manchester, Piccadilly Gardens,” Mum says.

We walk there, watched the fountains and are greeted by evoking smells as there is a food market on – pasties, kebabs, burgers and Yorkshire Wraps.


“Look, the Yorkshire Wraps stand. Looks like the one from York,” I say, a tad too excited.

“From York?”

“In the Shakespeare Village. It was one of the food stands,” I clarify.

Mum breaks into a smile: “Oh god, yes! From one of our favourite places.”

We were transported back to York and the Rose Shakespeare outdoor Theatre with its Shakespearean Village selling food and drinks. A happy last Summer was spent there!

“Were you at the York Shakespeare Village?” I lean in and ask the vendor, a handsome bearded fellow.

“Sorry?” he leans over the steaming gravy toward me.

“Were you at the York Shakespeare Village?” I repeat. “Last Summer. Next to the outdoor Shakespeare Theatre. Selling Yorkie wraps. The best food stand in the Shakespeare Village. Yes?”

“No,” he said. “There’s loads of  us Yorkshire Wraps,” he smiled.
Pffft…

We popped into the Harvey Nicks store – to use the toilets.

“We can’t go in just to use the toilets,” said Mum.

“Course we can,” I said. “Just act as if you belong there. To quote Jennifer Saunders in Ab Fab, when dealing with snooty staff, ‘You only work in a shop you know, you can drop the attitude.’”

“True,” nodded Mum as she walked ahead of me and let the doorman open the heavy glass door for us.

Surprisingly, the beauty department was empty so we were approached by every heavily made up counter assistant with offers to be squirted with the latest of everything. Of course, there’s only so many perfumes one can have sprayed on before one pongs – or gags.

Having been in this store many times, though strangely never with Mum, I know where to head for the ladies toilets – a sharp right to get to the lift, up to the bistro on the second floor and cut through the food halls before finding relief in the ladies.

The lift is like an art installation: circular mirrors adorned the walls.

“I don’t really want to see myself a thousand times,” Mum laughs. “Once is enough!”

But the lift is fantastic, I love it!

Having emptied our bladders, we walk back out Harvey Nicks, courtesy of the kind doorman again opening the glass doors and head to Sinclairs Oyster Bar at Shambles Square.

Sinclairs has historical significance, as its origins date back to the 16th century. 
We aren’t put off getting a drink and sitting in its famed, popular beer garden by the large, burly bouncer guarding the latter.

We struggle to get through the single file, heavy doors.

“Where’s the Harvey Nicks doorman when you need him?” I pipe up.

We are hit by the smell of stale beer. The smell of a proper, old fashioned boozer.

“Reminds me of the smell when your Grandad used to come home from the pub,” Mum smiles fondly.

It is small and cramped with low-beamed ‘old England’ atmosphere.

“I don’t like it. It’s too cosy,” I say, wiping the beer spillage from my arm that the man I brushed past left.

“Look, the sun has come out for us!” enthuses Mum as we squeeze back out of the single file doors out to the beer garden. “I love it!”

Manchester, nice one.

No Tights In Sight

By

On March 5, 2019

In Geordies, Reviews, Stories, Up North, Well I never!

“Robin Hood, Robin Hood. Riding through the glen.
Robin Hood, Robin Hood. Riding back to his den!”

“They aren’t the words,” I correct Mum.

“Well they should be,” she says.

We’re on a road trip to Nottingham.

What do you think of when you hear Nottingham?

“Sherwood Forest, Robin Hood, Maid Marian,” Mum says. “Though Sherwood Forest is about twenty miles away from Nottingham centre, so should they really claim it?”

“What else comes to mind with Nottingham?” I ask.

A long pause. “Kevin Costner.”

“That film is always a guilty pleasure,” I reply. “He’s definitely the best Robin Hood, despite the American accent,”  

Kevin Costner – Robin of Loxley

“He looked gorgeous throughout. Plus you had Alan Rickman being brilliant as the Sheriff. What more could you want? I mean that was the last Robin Hood film made, ‘coz they know they can’t top it.” Mum is resolute.

“There’s been two more since Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.” I say.

“Has there?” Mum is surprised.

I nod affirmatively.

Mum is astonished. “Well they must have been shite ‘coz I can’t recall them at all,” she says.

I nod affirmatively.

Nottingham city centre is compact so you can get around and see most of the sights easily, which is great for a cheeky weekend away.

We visit the Robin Hood statue – goes without saying – standing akin to the castle wall.

The castle is undergoing a huge redevelopment of the Nottingham Castle site, including the Grounds and the sprawling cave systems hidden within the Castle Rock and  will be until 2020.

We can’t hang about that long, so, speaking of sprawling cave systems, we go on the Nottingham City of Caves Tour.

The City of Caves is part of a hidden maze of over 500 original sandstone caves underneath the streets of Nottingham dating back to the dark ages.

We bought joint tickets for the City of Caves and its sister attraction, the National Justice Museum, saving us a few quid. Score!

A Place of Cavy Dwellings

Our City of Caves guide, Alex, was affable and entertaining, giving us puns and jokes along the way. He was also canny dishy, which kept your attention. Well, he certainly kept mine …

Alex quipped, on describing the ancient, natural Spring water well, within the caves: “The water fetchers did ‘well’ – ”

“Do you write your own jokes?” Mum asked with a giggle.

“I do. I ‘spout’ them jokes out,” Alex replied with a smirk. “Thank you for noticing.”

The caves were used for smuggling, slums for the poor; larders and pantries for the rich; they house the only medieval underground tannery in the country as well as being used as air raid shelters in WW2.

“So people would take shelter here in the caves to escape the bombings,” Alex tells us. “Several hundred people at once.”

“ And one bucket…” I joke.

He laughs – yay!

The cave tour lasts approximately forty five minutes, but you can stay and explore the network of caves and exhibitions as long as you want. After Alex had told us this, I half expected someone to come staggering from the tunnels, asking “Dr. Livingstone, I presume…”

The National Justice Museum is fascinating, viewing the gaol, the cells and dungeons of days long gone by – and thank god they are.

Guilty as charged… But does the punishment fit the crime…?

There’s tours and re-enactments from the resident actors. There’s even a trial we participated in of highway woman, Joan Phillips, where I, along with other audience participants, was asked to play a witness, swear an oath and stand in the witness box.

We participants, the ‘jury’ decided guilty or not guilty.
Don’t worry, we won’t spoil the ending for you…

These attractions are definitely worth a visit if you’re in Nottingham. Along with many of the historical inns and pubs. Not to mention the assortment of newer pubs, including the Castle Wharf Canalside, a peaceful oasis in the city centre.

“Nottingham has more to offer than I thought it would,” Mum piped up.

“Yeah, it’s been good. A good place for a city break” I said.

“It is. It’s not just all Robin Hood, Robin Hood – “Mum muses.

I nod affirmatively.

Not quite Kevin Costner, but he’ll do 😉

 

Let It Snow …

By

On February 28, 2019

In Emotions, Parks and recreation, THoughtful, Up North

“This was a lovely idea, to come for a Winter walk around the park,” Mum said.

“It’s bloody freezing,” I reply.

“I told you to put a hat and scarf on,” Mum scolded.

“I know. But I have some street cred. Not much. But some,” as I say as pull my collar up.

A Winter walk always seems like a good idea, until the temperature drops one degree too much – or you put a hat and scarf on.
I am in the latter, as Mum is snuggly in her padded jacket, boots and hat. This is why she’s the Mother…

We’re in Heaton Park, a tireless Victorian park, just a twenty minute slow walk from Newcastle city centre. It’s one of five linked parks that make up Ouseburn Parks. The other four parks are Jesmond Dene, Jesmond Vale, Paddy Freeman’s Park and Armstrong Park. The whole area was open to the people of Newcastle from 1884.

“Thought there’d be a few more people about,” Mum says as we more or less have the wide walkway that encompasses the entire park to ourselves. “Just the dog walkers, really.”

I nod, as I see a dog taking a dump up ahead.

The owner of which looks around for the dog and runs back with her poop bag to do a bit of scooping.

“It’s nice to hear how quiet it is,” I say.

“To HEAR how quiet it is…?” Mum laughs. “I know. Who would think we weren’t far from the city centre?” she agreed.

There’s no kids crying, parents shouting after them, gangs of people talking.

Heaton Park has a mix of promenades, hidden walkways and vast greenery. There’s a children’s playground, a Bowling Green and Victorian pavilion, which is now an Italian restaurant. Plus the remains of a mediaeval mansion.

All open and free to the public all year round.

Frost remains on the leaves of the bushes and hedges, as well as the grass. All of them glisten in the low afternoon sun.

“I love this kind of Winter weather, when everything looks peaceful,” Mum said thoughtfully.

Different types of birds sing their hearts out, which resonate around the trees, giving an ethereal feel as we continue our stroll.

“How lovely to hear the birds. They sound bright and happy.” I say.

“Don’t blame them when it’s so quiet. Bet they are loving it,” Mum said.

“Probably asking what each wants for their tea!” I joke.

Some people are sitting outside at the restaurant, eating. That’s real al fresco dedication for you! No one was in either of the kiddies playgrounds.


I see another dog take a dump, this time immediately in front of us. As we walk by, I wait for the stench to hit my nostrils… The owner is quick off the mark and plucks it up into a bag as if it were a daffodil.

A flurry of snow begins landing on the ground. It begins to lie. The weather forecasters were right. Snow, ice, freezing temperatures, travel chaos and our last leisurely stroll for a while.

“Here comes the snow,” I say as I pull my collar up.

“I told you that you put a hat and scarf on,” Mum smiled as she pulled down her hat, holier-than-thou.

Let It Snow…

By

On February 4, 2019

In Parks and recreation, Stories, THoughtful, Up North

“This was a lovely idea, to come for a Winter walk around the park,” Mum said.

“It’s bloody freezing,” I reply.

“I told you to put a hat and scarf on,” Mum scolded.

“I know. But I have some street cred. Not much. But some,” as I say as pull my collar up.

A Winter walk always seems like a good idea, until the temperature drops one degree too much – or you put a hat and scarf on.
I am in the latter, as Mum is snugly in her padded jacket, boots and hat.
This is why she’s the Mother…

We’re in Heaton Park, a tireless Victorian park, just a twenty minute slow walk from Newcastle city centre. It’s one of five linked parks that make up Ouseburn Parks. The other four parks are Jesmond Dene, Jesmond Vale, Paddy Freeman’s Park and Armstrong Park. The whole area was open to the people of Newcastle from 1884.

“Thought there’d be a few more people about,” Mum says as we more or less have the wide walkway that encompasses the entire park to ourselves. “Just the dog walkers, really.”

I nod, as I see a dog taking a dump up ahead.

The owner of which looks around for the dog and runs back with her poop bag to do a bit of scooping.

“It’s nice to hear how quiet it is,” I say.

“To HEAR how quiet it is…?” Mum laughs. “I know. Who would think we weren’t far from the city centre?” she agreed.

There’s no kids crying, parents shouting after them, gangs of people talking.

Heaton Park has a mix of promenades, hidden walkways and vast greenery. There’s a children’s playground, a Bowling Green and Victorian pavilion, which is now an Italian restaurant.

Plus the remains of a mediaeval mansion. All open and free to the public all year round. Though not, obviously, the Italian restaurant – you have to pay for your pizza.

Frost remains on the leaves of the bushes and hedges, as well as the grass. All of them glisten in the low afternoon sun.

“I love this kind of Winter weather, when everything looks peaceful,” Mum said thoughtfully.

Different types of birds sing their hearts out, which resonate around the trees, giving an ethereal feel as we continue our stroll.

“How lovely to hear the birds. They sound bright and happy.” I say.

“Don’t blame them when it’s so quiet. Bet they are loving it,” Mum said.

“Probably asking what each wants for their tea!” I joke.

Some people are sitting outside at the restaurant, eating – that’s real al fresco dedication for you!
No one was in either of the kiddies playgrounds.

I see another dog take a dump, this time immediately in front of us. As we walk by, I wait for the stench to hit my nostrils… The owner is quick off the mark and plucks it up into a bag as if it were a daffodil.

A flurry of snow begins landing on the ground. It begins to lie. The weather forecasters were right. Snow, ice, freezing temperatures, travel chaos and our last leisurely stroll for a while.

“Here comes the snow,” I say as I pull my collar up.

“I told you that you put a hat and scarf on,” Mum smiled as she pulled down her hat, holier-than-thou.

 

Restaurant Week – always

By

On January 28, 2019

In Beer, Cocktails, Drinks, Food, Food and drinks, Reviews, Up North

NE1 Newcastle Restaurant Week 2019 returned again, with over 100 restaurants involved, offering amazing food in Newcastle’s finest restaurants for only £10 or £15pp from the 21st – 27th January.

Logo © NE1 Get Into Newcastle

“What do you think of Restaurant Week?” I ask Mum.

“It’s very good but is it actually worth the restaurants putting it on? I was thinking do they actually get more people going? Do they actually make profit?” Mum said.

“That’s a lot of actuallys –“ I laugh.

“If they’re halving or taking a third off the menu prices, they still have to pay for staff and ingredients. I know it’s for people to try new places, get people into the city centre and it’s publicity. I wonder if it’s worth it in the long run for Restaurant Week,” she continues.

“It gets people back into the city,” I offer.

“Oh, it’s a good thing. But I think January is a bad month to have it in.” Mum says.

“That’s kind of the point. January is a depressing month so it’s to give people a boost.” I reply.

“I understand that. But there’s other elements – and I’m not just talking about the crap weather.”

“I see.”“People still don’t have a great deal of money after Christmas. There’s still long, dark, cold nights. I don’t like January,” Mum explains.

“Or Mondays,” I chip in.

“Very droll,” Mum retorted.

We’re at Beeronomy, a brand, spanking new bar and restaurant on Hood Street, off Newcastle’s Grey Street, where the art of beer and food are perfectly matched.

“This place, when we spoke to the waitress, she said it was fully booked tonight.”

“If it’s busy every night for Restaurant Week, then it clearly works. It’s great to bring people back into Newcastle. That’s always assuming that a venue’s food is good,” Mum tittered.

 “Why did we choose this restaurant today?” I inquire.

“I think it’s one of the few restaurants we haven’t been in,” Mum responded.

“One of the few? We’re not Jay Rayner.” I joke and we laugh.
We were sitting at one of the two taken tables. It was mid-afternoon. Post lunchtime and pre-after works drinks. It felt like we had the place to ourselves and that was nice. Plus it meant we got all of the staff’s attention.

Beeronomy’s Restaurant Week Offer was 2 courses for £10 or 3 for £15 – plus you got a drink, either a pint of house cask ale, a cocktail or a soft drink. You couldn’t gan wrong!

We plumped for cocktails and three courses. We were not disappointed. The food was excellent and the attention to detail of the interior and décor of the place is second to none.

Get yourself along to this new establishment, support an independent venue. It’s got something for everyone – you don’t have to be a beer drinker!

“Maybe they could make it Restaurant Fortnight to give us a chance to eat more delicious food?”
Mum suggests as she sips on a porn star martini.

I nod in agreement:
“So many restaurants, so little time.”

Well good news for us – as Beeronomy have extended their offer until Sunday 3rd February, two courses for £10, three courses for £15 and all cocktails are 2-4-1. So get on it like a car bonnet!

The One and Only…

By

On November 23, 2018

In Beer, Food, Geordies, Up North, Well I never!

“How many Newcastles are there?” asked Mum.

“Over one hundred,” I reply. “A hundred that we are aware of, anyway.”

“Bloody hell! I thought we were the only one.” Mum was surprised.

“Did you, why?” I queried.

“’Coz of Newcastle Brown Ale.”

“What?”

“Newcastle Brown Ale says it’s ‘The One and Only’.”

“Right – ”

“So, as it made here in Newcastle upon Tyne, we’re the only one,” summed up Mum.
We were attending an event with the Newcastle upon Tyne Network of the Newcastles Of The World.

‘What’s Newcastles Of The World?’ I hear you ask.

It’s a friendship network to share experience and ideas on culture, heritage, education and business.

‘So what is ‘Newcastle’?’ you ask.

The origin of the name is often the same whatever the language – an old castle was destroyed or fell into disrepair and a “new” castle was built to replace it.

However, many Newcastles in the English-speaking world take their name from some connection with Newcastle upon Tyne – well of course they do…

‘What’s so special about these Newcastles?’

Nyborg (Newcastle), Denmark was from 1183 to 1413 Denmark’s capital and the Parliament – the Danehoffet – met at Nyborg Castle.

Nové Zamky (Newcastle), Slovakia, west of the capital Bratislava has a Mayor who  is an opera singer.

In our own Toon, a recent immigrant to the city became so enamoured with it, that he has legally changed his surname to Newcastle!

Some of the “Newcastles” have been meeting every two years for conferences. The most recent being staged in Shinshiro City Japan just this September for the Newcastles Of The World 20th anniversary.

“A Newcastles Of The World Cookbook,” I said, looking at the cover as we settle down for the event.

“Oh, what a nice touch – everyone who’s here is getting a free copy,” said Mum.

“What recipe do you think will be in from Newcastle upon Tyne?” I asked.

“Hmmm,” mused Mum. “I’m not sure –“

“What’s Geordie food?” I say out loud.

We both go silent as we muse.

“What about Pan Haggerty?” I say

“Pam who?” says Mum.

“Pan Haggerty,” I repeat.

“Think that’s a Northumbrian dish. Irish as well.”

A pause as we think again.

“Newcastle Brown Ale and steak pie,” I offer.

“Possibly,” agrees Mum. “Singing Hinnies?”

“Them scone things?”

“Yeah. Like a stodgy drop scone. Lovely with butter on!” smiles Mum. I can tell she’s now imagining a warm Singing Hinny with a nice cup of tea. She pauses: “What about pease pudding?”

Pease Pudding is something of a North Eastern delicacy, a savoury dish made of boiled split yellow peas, with water and seasonings. Sounds revolting – but isn’t!

“What would a recipe with pease pudding entail?” I ask.

“Well, I think most people have ham and pease pudding sandwiches, don’t they?”

“Someone told me their colleague has pease pudding and tongue sandwiches,” I say.

“Ugh. A tongue sandwich tends to go on and on…” smirks Mum. “I remember someone telling me to try fried pease pudding – “

“How do you fry pease pudding when it’s sloppy mush?”

 “Dip it in a bit of flour to give it a slightly crispy coating then fry it. They swear by it!”

“Sounds interesting.” I nod. “Though my fella told me that his Dad only ever serves pease pudding as a block, like cheese, on their Sunday dinner. As a garnish”

“Now I’ve heard it all!” Mum rolled her eyes.

“Let’s find out then,” I say as I flick through the book.

“Stop there, Newcastle upon Tyne,” says Mum pointing.

“Ah ha, I was right,” I am triumphant. “Newcastle Brown Ale Stew!”

“You said Newcastle Brown Ale and steak pie,” smirks Mum smugly. “Close, but no cigar…”

 

 

‘Newcastles Of the World – The History, Culture and Diversity of Places Called Newcastle’ edited  and compiled by Sue Wilson, CBE and printed by Tyne Bridge Publishing, is available to buy via Newcastle upon Tyne City Library for £7.99.

For more information and to get involved in Newcastles Of the World, visit https://newcastlesoftheworld.com/

Thanks to David Faulkner

Silhouettes In The Sand

By

On November 14, 2018

In Emotions, Stories, THoughtful, Up North

“I haven’t been up and out this early on a Sunday morning since I can remember,” said Mum as she looked out of the car window at the landscape flashing by.

We were driving to attend Pages Of The Sea at Roker Beach in Sunderland from our native Newcastle. Now normally there is rivalry between us Geordies and them Mackems, thanks to our opposing football teams. But not today. Today we would all be as one to mark the centenary of the end of WW1.

‘On selected beaches around the UK, over the course of several hours, a portrait of an individual from the First World War will emerge from the sand. And then, as the tide rises, be washed away as we take a moment to say a collective goodbye.’ – https://www.pagesofthesea.org.uk/

We’d set off extra early to ensure we arrived for the 11am two minutes silence, as well as make sure we got parked.

We parked up at Roker Harbour View and were out of the car as a lady shouted at me: “Look out! Dog poo!!!”

Too late – I stepped right in it!

A massive s**t sat on the pavement, in front of a dog waste bin too. Like it was mocking me.

The lady who’d shouted at me had come closer: “You’re best off walking on the sand to get it off,” she suggested.

I thanked her and told Mum to walk toward Roker Beach and I’d cut across the sand to meet her there. This was a great idea, bar the sand having mini dunes protruding up making it feel like I was crossing the Sahara. I checked the time, nearly 11am, and then tripped, falling arse over tit.

I met back up with Mum just as the two minute silence began, covered head to toe in wet sand but dog poo free!

Pages Of The Sea began with huge sand portrait of Second Lieutenant Hugh Carr (born in Sunderland Street, Houghton-Le-Spring, County Durham) bring carved while members of the public created, from templates, silhouettes of loved ones on the shoreline sands.

Looking at these, I turned to Mum: “What made you want to come today?”

“It’s once in a lifetime event. Brings it home how brave the soldiers were.”
She paused. “It’s quite emotional, looking at the different notices people have placed around and on the silhouettes – watching people writing sand inscriptions, putting photos of their lost loved ones on the silhouettes they’ve drawn.

Mum stands amongst the sand silhouettes

I feel attending has made me think of connections between the WW1 and today as we wouldn’t have the life and freedom we have had they not fought for us.”

“It’s been excellent,” I said. “Really good that lots of people have attended.”

“Everyone seems to have enjoyed the event. People have shown respect; been thoughtful. It’s been a wonderful experience,” Mum continued.

“What have you liked best?” I asked.

“I’ve liked all of it,” Mum replied. “The choir singing was excellent, the atmosphere. I will remember the whole day. What a lovely thing it is for everyone to come together…I will always remember the silhouettes in the sand.”

[ngg src=”galleries” ids=”5″ display=”basic_thumbnail”]

 

    

Life Centre’s For Life, Not Just For Christmas!

By

On November 9, 2018

In Beer, Drinks, Food, Geordies, Stories, Up North

We were informed of the launch of Newcastle’s latest Christmas extravaganza – a Christmas Village in Times Square – as well as brilliant The Centre For Life’s ice rink opening and encouraged to attend.

“This is brilliant,” said Mum. “We have the whole place to ourselves!”

Bar the half a dozen workmen and staff setting things up the Christmas Village ahead of its five PM launch countdown. If you don’t count them, then yes, we have the whole Christmas Village to ourselves….

The Life Centre’s seasonal ice skating rink is a Newcastle Christmas steadfast, hugely popular and will be open to the public from Saturday 10th November. The Life Centre has a wonderful Seasonal programme coming up.

Photo courtesy & copyright of The Centre For Life

Sarah Reed, Communications Manager at Life Centre gave us the lowdown on all that will be happening at the Life Centre in the lead up to Christmas!

“There’s been loads going on today [launch day]. We’ve done an event on the ice rink as we’ve brought it back and it will be here until next February’s half term holidays, and although the event is centred on the ice rink, today was to launch our whole festive season. So we’ve got the ice rink that opens to the public skating from tomorrow. We’ve got Santa in his grotto, from November 17th on weekends only up until Christmas. Plus our friends in the Christmas Village launching today so that’s exciting that it’s alongside Life Centre!”

There’s also lots going on in the Life Science Centre as well. Not everyone knows that we run Christmas themed activities – you can explore fake snow in the experiment zone; make Christmas crafts in the Making Space; and on the 4D Motion ride, we’ve got The Polar Express, which gives you a completely new way of experiencing the show.”

We also have a fantastic exhibition opening for the Christmas holidays! If anyone likes a nice sci-fi movie for Christmas they should come along to Alien Invasion.”

 “We can hardly contain our excitement as you’ve got so much going on!” I tell Sarah.

“It must be a very busy time of year for you?!” Mum chips in.

“There’s just so much going on – there’s a lot of buzz and excitement. There’s going to be as much buzz and excitement in Times Square as there’s going to be in Life Centre this year which makes it particularly brilliant!” 

“Will you be at the Christmas Village launch this evening?”

“Oh, definitely! Who doesn’t like a nice, warm drink and a log fire? It just gets you into the festive spirit. It’s so pretty,” Sarah told us. “The Christmas Village team have done a really great job with it – it looks so impressive, so pretty with all of the fairy lights and Christmas trees. It looks fantastic!” 

“We look forward to raising a stein with you – cheers!” 

“Cheers!” 

 

 

 

 

Life Science Centre https://www.life.org.uk/ 

Newcastle Christmas Village https://www.christmasvillagenewcastle.co.uk/

Women of Substance

By

On October 19, 2018

In Geordies, Stories, Up North, Well I never!

We were driving. Returning to York to explore its historic streets some more as previously we’d had a flying visit in the Summer to watch a show at the pop up Shakespeare Rose Theatre, which is now long gone.

We had booked into a faceless chain hotel (which begins with a ‘T’).
Had had a nightmare journey. Stuck in a traffic jam on the A1(M) for over an hour. We were boiling hot, bothered and bored.

Eventually we arrived at hotel. We were dishevelled, worn out, sticky.

Got checked in, no bother; made it to the room. I’d been dying for a wee for the last ten miles, so headed straight for the en-suite.

“Thank god!” sighed Mum as she stripped down to her undies, flopped down on the bed, put the TV on and said: “I’m having a nap.”

Next thing she knew, I came flying out of the bathroom:
“Get up! Get up!” I exclaimed. “’I’m going to demand they come in to clean up the room. I take umbrage. Pure umbrage at that bathroom!”

The bathroom was dirty. The bath marked, hairs all over the floor, toilet stained. Taps needed descaling. Not sure the last time it had seen a cleaner, but imagine it was probably the last time that Richard the Third visited York!

The shower curtain had a full hand print on it. What went on previously in this room? The mind boggles…

I grab the telephone and phone down to reception and give them a good mouth full of Geordie charm. They agree to come up and inspect the room to re-service it. I breathe.

It was at this point I noticed that Mum was sprawled out on the bed, hand leisurely perched behind her head, leaning on plumped up pillows in just her lingerie. Reminiscent of the Sleeping Venus by Giorgione, not, as she likely imagines, Rose in Titanic.

“We have to leave the room. Apparently we can’t be in it whilst they clean it.”

Mum sat bolt upright at this: “What? I’ve just got comfy!”

“They’ve offered us a complimentary drink. They’re coming right up.”

“Aww, bloody hell. For god’s sake,” Mum said and then continued muttering about how ridiculous it was.

We were down at reception and shown to the bar area, which was within spitting distance. We were the only guests in there.

“What can we get you, on the house of course?” smiled the receptionist now on bar duty.

I was perusing the coffee menu when I heard Mum say: “A bottle of prosecco.”

The receptionist clasped her hand to her jaw, to stop herself from gasping.

Mum gave a Mona Lisa smile – she was obviously in a Renaissance art mood, and turned to me:

“What are you having, Sharon?”

“The same,” I said.

And that, my friend, was that!

 

Giorgione, Sleeping Venus painting  – https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=101652 –
edited/adapted for our purposes

Cold Women of the North

By

On September 17, 2018

In Geordies, Reviews, Up North

“Oh, you’re bloody joking, aren’t you. You’re the third person that’s told us of a different way to get in!”

We were attending the closing ceremony of the Great Exhibition of the North at Gateshead Quays. No body – security, stewards – seemed to know any of the right information. Usually the case when it’s a large scale public event.

“You’re not allowed in Zone A, in the better, front of stage seats with these tickets. You are in Zone B. Do not move out of it!” barked a steward.

Of the three ways to get to our ‘Zone’, the correct way was up a steep hill, not the best seeing as Mum is asthmatic. The doors were ten minutes late in opening.

“People are like vultures,” I said as people pushed, shoved, rushed to seats. “That woman there has a walking stick and is now making a run for middle of the row seats.”

The setting was an open plan, open air car park, staggered down two sets of stairs.
The stage was already lit, as was Gateshead’s famous Millennium Bridge.
It all looked impressive.
We got seats. On the front row of Zone B. No one else was sitting near them. The end of row seats too. Maybe because they were furthest away from the stage?

“What we sat here for?” asked Mum. “We won’t be able to see a bloody thing!”

“We will.” I say. “Plus we’re sitting next to the exit ramp – we can make our escape any time we like”

“Thank god!”

It was fri***n cold and quickly getting dark. Mum’s face was tripping her up.
Giving me the evils, blaming me for the situation, as it was my idea to attend the event.
Just the forty minutes to go until the show started then – this should be fun…

Then I spotted someone taking their seat directly behind us.  It was Brenda Blethyn, the wonderful actress in too many fabulous things to mention and currently in ITV’s ‘Vera’.

“Hello,” I said, turning around.

“Hello,” she smiled.

We started chatting and Mum sat stony-faced facing ahead, trying to adjust her coat collar to keep the wind-chill out. Eventually she turned around and upon realising it was Ms Blethyn, broke out into the biggest smile I’d seen all evening. As we continued chatting, Kenny Doughty (Vera’s trusty Sergeant) came and sat down.

“We write a blog,” I began, explaining what it was, “could we get a selfie?”

Ms Blethyn and Kenny were very accommodating and bloody lovely.The show, The Great North Star, began just after nine via a teenage girl dancing atop the staircase descending to Zone A and the stage. She was enthused, going for it, fantastic!

A woman audience member started up the stairs to go to the toilet at exactly the same time. The girl was giving it her all, dancing up and down the steps, as the woman continued toward her and had to squeeze past. Talk about timing!

“Bet she wishes she’d crossed her legs,” I whispered to Mum.
“Or wore a Tena lady.” She replied. “Shame for the lass, when she was having her dance solo.”

The theme of the music and dance celebration performance was past and present achievements of great northern women. Female performers of stage and screen explored the empowerment of women. Volunteer performers took on the chorus and crowd roles. It was a wonderful event!

“What was your favourite bit of the closing ceremony?” I asked Mum.

“The end,” she said.

Eh?!!

She continued: “No I mean, because it was a real finale. Done in style. Music pumping, everyone dancing. Fireworks. Plus we were clapping which kept me hands warm.”

All in all a great way to celebrate the North!

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