Saturday, 1 August 2009


I have got so much to tell you.

The reason I haven't posted for a couple of days is I am on holiday.

My lover and I are doing a world tour of the East Coast of England. In our tiny caravan.

We will be away for 2 and a half weeks and have set ourselves 4 objectives;
1. Visit all the main football stadia in the vicinity of where we stay.
2. Eat lots of good quality fish and chips
3. Busk here and there and raise a bit of money for charity
4. Have a groovy time

As I write to you we are in a field just outside Alnwick. Complete with laptop and dongle.

We arrived yesterday lunchtime and were walking around Alnwick late afternoon when we saw a sign saying "Sir Bobby Dead".

We looked at each other open mouthed and quickly bought a copy of the local newspaper.

It was true. Sir Bobby Robson dead.

Now I need to tell you I have never visited this part of the country in my life.

And here I am in Sir Bobby's homeland.

It was meant to be.

So of course today we went to pay our respects at St James' Park.

We joined the steady line of people pilgrimaging up the hill to the stadium. We followed them into the ground itself and spent time looking at the hundreds of flowers, scarves, shirts, messages, flags and pictures that adorned the seats.

Sombrely we walked back into the centre of the city, via a delicious Chinese meal in China Town.

As we journeyed back towards our car, I saw a man walking towards us.

There was something familiar about him. He was wearing a blue shirt - with a Foxes head on it. A Leicester City fan in the middle of Newcastle.

I stopped and chatted to him to learn that he too was on his way to pay homage to the great man.

Where else next then but to the Black Cats stadium? Eerily deserted apart from a couple getting married. Oh and a fantastic statue of Bob Stokoe.

Then to Consett to look with sadness upon a town abandoned by the outside world over a quarter of a century ago when they closed the steelworks and 6000 lost their jobs.

The best shop in the town was a music shop so we called in to get some strings for our guitars. Judging by the way the guy in the shop went on about St James' Park being a blot on the landscape and how the Magpie's away strip had already been reduced to half price, we guessed my just might be a Mackam.

Then back to our little paradise on wheels. Restringing guitars. Singing and playing tunes with a nice glass of wine.

Only one way to describe my day today.

In the words of the man we spoke to yesterday who smokes kippers for a living;


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