DropBy

Every once in a while one feels the need for Foreign Jollies, a dash of alien culture, new faces & food, all that. Joseph booked us some accommodation on the boat-train, throw a few nic-nacs into a bag [an activity he does well now, under my masterful eye,] & we departed The Ferry bustles with families, nannies & house staff everywhere. One or two faces were familiar as we climbed aboard & while my man was seeing to our cabins I slipped off to the bar to quench lips parched by the sun & the salt air. Chummy Godard was sitting at a table. He waved & as I joined him he introduced me to a small shrivelled mutation he said was his mother. They were going down to Aix-les-Bain for the lady to take the waters; Chummy was her escort in such matters. I felt sorry for my friend since I had been burdened in a similar manor with an elderly male cousin once at Cheltenham. Fortunately the date coincided with a Race Meeting there or I may well have been round the loop. The crossing was easy & we were back in a railway compartment & trundling through open countryside in no time. Paris was… Well, to be honest there is no specific phrase to describe the gaff! The Parisians do their best I suppose, but they simply do not try to get the gist of the English Language; it seems most odd. Joseph got on well with hotel staff though, so we were adequately fed & watered. Our train in the morning took us pleasantly through Lyon & down to the Med by late evening. Joseph chivvied me into action next morning with my tea & “You have people meeting you for breakfast sir, at 9.15 I told them; I hope that will be convenient, sir. …Oh & sir – I have put out your cream linen suit sir & your bath is ready.” [What more could a chap need for his hols?]

In the morning’s mail there was a letter from Doris. [I’m sure you recall the devastating domestic, Miss Fletcher, my uncle’s House Keeper on his estates in North Wales.] The homely missive ran as follows;

"Dear Sir” it ran “I am concerned about your Uncle David. Ten days ago he was sent by his medical people to take the waters in Cheltenham, [for his little trouble you understand.] Yesterday week however, my friend Stella wrote to tell me he is residing at The Leasers Hotel in Gosforth, Northumbria. She says for a gentleman he is most eccentric, but very amenable, is well in himself & often generous to the chamber maids but that he refuses to see Lady Verbena. She is concerned for his mind, you see. Therefore sir I have taken it upon myself to correspond with you, since you had a soft spot for him. Yours very truly” etc.

Well one can image how this affected Joseph.
He had me packed & on a North-bound train in the roll of an eyeball. Now I don’t know about your experiences of the north reaches of our Green & Pleasant, but I found it swathed in iron foundries, coal mines, sooty little villages, degenerate racing pidgins & whippets [of whom I believe I spoke earlier.] It is not the kind of place where on would have a pic-nic by an idyllic river or hold a garden party on one’s lawns. Alighting at Central Station Newcastle I employed a group of dirty little oiks to call me a cab which in turn deposited me at the door of the sought-after Hotel in Gosforth Height Street. The landlord looked up from polishing a glass; I explained who I had come to visit & he indicated silently with a well angled eyebrow & went on polishing. Uncle sat at a table in the Snug. He wore no tie & a coat which may well have been his own - once – in another existence.

I went down to Newcastle early today, arived at Eldon Sq Bus station & quite on a whim I got on a bus up through Dipton, Anfield Plain, Sandhough, Hampsterly, The Ox Inn, Oxhill & Stanley. In all these areas the residents still play-out the part of the "Down Trodden Poor", the "Working Class." It’s a little bit pathetic to see. It’s in their faces and their dress; there’s a sullen resentment, as though it were natural to be beaten. Out past Mary St. and “Brenda’s Fish & Chips” down Tyne Rd, Craghead Aged Miners Homes, through South Stanley, Avon Rd, and “The Charlow,” Thompson Buildings, Edmond Biers, Sacristan & so into Durham Bus Station around 12.30. I did some more pictures walking up over the bridge then went into the covered market for a repeat of the all-day-brunch I had there in 2004. Around 2.15 it was spitting snow again so I got a bus to bring me back by way of Framwell Gate & Pity Me, Chester-la-Street, [where the snow was getting steadier,] over by The Angle, through Gateshead & back into Eldon Sq. I was back in the house by 4.30. Totally shattering, but quite nice to know I went.

I am looking for someone to share a cabin with me on the P & O ship Arcadia to Sydney Australia or round the world.

If you look at my photos you will see the itinerary. The voyage starts from Southampton on 5th January 2013 and takes 53 days to get to Sydney or 99 days to go right round the world. The cost will be around £5,000 to Sydney.

 

I did not know this...

When you drink vodka over ice, it can give you kidney failure.
When you drink rum over ice, it can give you liver failure.
When you drink whiskey over ice, it can give you heart problems.
When you drink gin over ice, it can give you brain problems.

Apparently, ice is really bad for you.
Warn all your friends.

I went to walk around the Hindhead area yesterday and drove through the new tunnel.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered this article on the Daily Telelgraph News site:

"There are fears that the recently opened Hindhead Tunnel in Surrey is being used as a racetrack by owners of sports cars. Drivers of Ferraris, Porches and Aston Martins are posting footage of their burn-ups on Youtube.  (I will try and find the link shortly).

The tunnel's echoey acoustics have attracted the owners of powerful sports cars looking to drive and rev loudly down the mile-and-a-half-long route.