This morning it was time to pack and move out after over two weeks in London; time to leave my cute little corner room overlooking Russel Square.

Since I was packed much earlier than I'd expected, I thought I'd try to get on an earlier train; so once I was at King's Cross I strolled innocently onto the platforms to try to find out, before it was announced, which platform the Newcastle train would leave from. It was too late to get a reservation for the earlier train, so I'd have to try to beat everyone else to the punch if I was going to grab one of the few unreserved seats. I figured it out just in time, and was in an unreserved seat just before the mad rush of passengers from the waiting area.

This was my first inter-city train journey in England for probably fifteen years, and the old British Rail has been long since split up. I was traveling on GNER (which, I think, stands for "Great North-Eastern Railways"), the company that inherited the famous old "Flying Scotsman" rail-line up the East coast of Britain. I had mixed impressions of the change: having traveled frequently on Amtrak in the U.S. when I lived in Philadelphia, and recently on Eurostar, these trains seemed a little dirty, narrow and dark, and the ride was very bumpy. There was, however, a sandwich/drink delivery service run by two bonny Geordie lasses, which was a nice touch. (You're going to have to get used to me using strange words over the next few days, now that I'm in the town where I spent my first 18 years! Here, by convention, everyone is "bonny" - which means "good-looking".)

On the train to Newcastle

The countryside, despite my expectations, didn't look much nicer than the Italian countryside, at least under this grey sky and through the dirty windows. The biggest difference between the countryside in the two countries seems to be that the English fields are populated with sheep and cows. Yet, when we ran through beautiful Durham, with its magnificent Cathedral set on a hill top above a winding river, my jaw dropped as though I'd never seen it before.

I picked up my rental car, a sizeable Peugot, in Newcastle and, with a little bit of trepidation, I ventured out on to the LEFT side of the road (remember Keith!), and made my way, in a roundabout fashion, towards South Shields, which lies at the mouth of the Tyne River, about ten miles from Newcastle. Once in the town, I couldn't quite remember where the hotel was, but when I found it, I remembered that it was the hotel our family always thought was too posh for us lot. Now it's a Best Western, and, although it's not a bad place, it's definitely not posh. But I do have a great view of the sea from my window, and the biggest bed I've had since I left San Francisco.

First thing I did after checking in was cross the pier and go down onto the beach. The cool breeze coming off the North Sea was enough to make my eyes water. I spent so much time on or near the beach when I was growing up. Not lying in the sun, mind you, but either going for early morning walks with Dad and "wor Sheeb" (our Sheba, a collie-labrador mix), or climbing on the cliffs or looking for crabs with my friends. It's still a beautiful sight: the blue-grey sea, the long stone piers on either side of the Tyne, the green headland of Tynemouth across the river, with its ancient ruined priory.

On the beach. Natives of South Shields are referred to as "sand-dancers". But I resisted the tempation to dance for you :)

Mind, apart from the coastline, South Shields (a city of about 100,000) and its environs could hardly be described as pretty. It's rather seedy and run-down, with a working-class, hard-scrabble air to it. The surrounding countryside, what there is of it, is marred by electricity pylons marching through it, and every view is edged with the ranked streets of an ugly pre-war housing estate. Even now, when the English economy is flying, South Shields still looks poor, although I'm sure it no longer has the 40% unemployment rate it had when I was a teenager. There is still almost nowhere to eat, unless, that is, you like Indian take-away, or fish and chips, in which case you are spoilt for choice!

What it lacks in looks, it makes up for in spirit. As I interacted with people in the hotel, and later, downtown, when I bought a cup of coffee at Minchellas, the ice-cream parlor I remember from early childhood, the natural, guileless friendliness of the local people showed itself to me. I wonder where this comes from; the way every stranger gets a straight look in the eye, and a sympathetic, smiling eye here. It was certainly long-since drummed out of me by city life.

South Shields - at rush hour! I'm only three blocks from downtown. It's actually nice to be in a place that isn't crawling with traffic.

A memorial to the first lifeboat, the invention of which is the second thing South Shields is known for. The first thing is that Cathrine Cookson, one of the best-selling authors in the World, was born here. If you haven't heard of her, it probably means you're behind on your ladies' romance novels :) And this weekend, "Cookson County Week" starts to celebrate her heritage - oh joy.

I had thought of going for a run along the beach, but as the afternoon wore on, I began to feel a little unwell - I hope I'm not getting a cold, darn it! I watched the remaining semi- final game between Holland and Italy (Italy has the most beautiful goal-keeper), and that was about all I had the energy for. I will go to bed early, and hope I'm fine for the long day I have planned for tomorrow.