Saturday:
Jean says: I left Bob behind today, which was a strange feeling, as we've been fused together for the last ten weeks. The way to get to Newcastle City centre was to take the metro, and the nearest stop was quite a walk from the marina. I crossed over the lock and walked through some very well designed and attractive housing developments, joined up by a web of pathways and thoughtful landscaping. Before long, I found myself in the middle of a secluded park, and suddenly felt a bit vulnerable. Remembering that I was dressed like a deranged bag lady, wearing the world's most unflattering hat, I was reassured that no-one would be interested in coming near me, let alone running off with my back pack. They'd have been more likely to press some money into my hand and suggest I treat myself to a cup of tea. All the same, I put my phone and purse into an inner pocket.
Feeling more confident, I asked directions from a man accompanied by four boisterous dogs of unidentified breeds. He told me the way, and then laughed and said don't forget to watch out for the Appaches. I didn't like to query it and smiled back and said that I would. Sitting on the Meadow Well platform, I kept a close watch all around me for anyone resembling a Red Indian, but managed to get to Newcastle without encountering even one.
It was only later that I discovered that Meadow Well is a very rough area, there are gangs and people get robbed. Perhaps this is what he meant. It's amazing how well tended foliage can lull you into a false sense of security. When Bob came to join me later, he said he had felt a bit threatened, despite the cheerful sunshine yellow that they'd painted the metro station. It might have been better if he'd worn some of those Newcastle United shorts.
Emerging from the metro at The Monument was like returning from a long retreat. I stood on the pavement for a while and looked around me. There were all the familiar shops that are on every high street in England. This is what can make so many English towns so boring. The only thing that identifies one place from another is the architecture, and configuration of the streets. Newcastle is nevertheless, a striking and handsome City. The buildings are very grand, with a large Georgian influence. The main streets converge at the Monument, which makes a very good focal point. After having had a bit of a mooch around some of the shops, I went off to the Laing art gallery for some inspiration and a culture fix. It's been a while since I've seen some good art, and they have some valuable works on show.
When Bob arrived, we went to the pictures and having been starved of this kind of entertainment for so long, saw two consecutive films; Prometheus, a silly sci- fi film, and The Five Year Engagement. We liked the second one a lot. After that, it was dinner in Ask, and a bit of people watching. There were numerous hen parties, stag parties and pub crawls, all feeling the need to make an exhibition of themselves. We stood out from the crowd with our warm and sensible unobtrusive outfits on. Trouble was obviously expected quite early in the evening, because a police car and ambulance were standing by ready to act. In Bath, they come much later in the evening. We took photos of the revelling masses, and managed to do it without being beaten up.
Why do so many British girls think that looking glamorous and sexy means squeezing yourself into something shapeless, tasteless and much too small, revealing as much flesh as possible, while trying to walk on a pair of spiked breeze blocks that pass themselves off as shoes. The threat of having your foot crushed to a pulp, or pierced must deter all but the hardiest of men, but then Geordie are hardy. The girls can't walk properly, and when the fire alarm went off in the Multi entertainment complex, no-one moved, but they wouldn't have made it very far anyway. Luckily, it was a false alarm.