It's ironic that the best hotel I've stayed in so far is this one, in my working-class home-town. I slept wonderfully well in the comfortable bed, and felt better than ever when I got up this morning, despite feeling under the weather yesterday. After a great shower, I was ready for a full day.

The second I stepped out of the hotel, it started to rain; it was more what we call a sea-fret than anything else, but the thick clouds that went with the fret were never to depart today, and the temperature never got above 60. It wasn't the best weather for photography, particularly with my two cameras, neither of which work well in poor light, so again, excuse the poor focus on a few of the photos. Even with the grey skies, however, the sea was still beautiful. There was a white band on the horizon, reflecting the tortured clouds that were intricately bound up with each other way out there, a horizon that seemed impossibly distant.

Looking out to sea from the beach: a passenger ferry from Scandinavia can just be seen way out.

This whole area - the beaches, the cliffs, the long wide stretch of grass leading from the cliffs to the coastal road (known as "The Leas") - this was our playground. Pretty much every day, from the age of five to fourteen, I was out there in this playground with the same set of friends: looking for shellfish or crabs in the rock pools, climbing the cliffs, playing soccer in the Winter, and cricket in the Summer.

An old gun on top of Trow Rock. The platform was there from the 2nd World War, but the gun must have been added some time in the last fifteen years, since it wasn't there when I was a kid. I climbed on it today, just like the big kid I really am :)

What a wonderful place to grow up, now I think of it: all that space to ourselves - it must have been very formative for us all. I wonder what happened to those friends: John Bell, James Delaney, David Evans, Graham and Michael Pinder. I began to lose touch with them when I suddenly fell in with a more intellectual clique at high-school.

Another bay, photographed from Trow Rock. We used to call this bay the "Pebbly Beach".

Souter Point light house, just a little bit further up the coast.

It took me a while to find my old high-school - after all, I only attended it for seven years :). But when I saw the pakistani grocers store outside of which I'd been kicked-in (a Geordie term for "beaten up") by a crazy kid we all called "the mental lad", suddenly the unknown streets crystalized into familiarity. Like everything else, my school seemed dissapointingly smaller than in my memories. The same, later, with the house I grew up in. I opened the creaking gate to the garden (still the same gate after all these years!), and knocked on the door. Since I wanted to take a photograph of myself next to the house, I wanted to reassure the owners that I wasn't a private detective or something! But nobody was home, so I endured the stares of the nosy neighbors and took the photo anyway. Although the garden looked so small compared to my memories, it was still a beautiful little garden, with its three overgrown laburnum trees.

Outside the house I grew up in.

I decided to drive down to Durham next. The distances here are so short, and traffic is nothing compared to what I'm used to in the Bay Area - I was there in no time. Durham is one of the most beautiful and charming cities you could imagine. It's set on a loop of the River Wear, with its Norman cathedral and castle towering over the rest of the mostly unspoilt city, cobble-streets and all. Durham University occupies many of the older buildings, including the castle, so the streets are full of rosy-cheeked students.

You can't help but be gob-smacked (as we say) when you first see the Cathedral. It's the finest Norman cathedral in the country - beautiful, simple, unadorned both inside and out apart from the gorgeous stained-glass windows. It's amazing to think of such a toweringly large and graceful space being built 900 years ago. Inside, they have a stone which is inscribed with the names of all the bishops since 995, starting with names so ancient they barely sound English: Aldhun, Eadmund, Eadred, Ethelric, Ethelwin. St Cuthbert and the head of St Oswald, King of Northumbria (almost a millenium ago) are entombed here.

Durham Cathedral from the river (this is a composite).

Views from the top of the cathedral (this is a composite).

I had lunch in the cathedral restaurant; the menu was probably as old as the 900 year old stone ceilings I ate under. But it occured to me that the archetypal english meal I was eating (roast beef and potatoes with peas and carrots), a meal that other nations deride us for, fits in well with my diet - good protein, low on fat, and nasty carbs, at least if I don't go crazy with the potatoes.

I spent most of the afternoon in Newcastle, wandering around some parts of the city I never really visited much as a kid, since we usually just went to Newcastle to go shopping. It really is a lovely city, in some ways. Most of the downtown retains its original Georgian buildings, yet they've managed to install a large shopping mall right in the heart of the city. The river has loads of character, and there are a few very old buildings to explore. And, of course, it's full of Geordies, with their warmth and friendliness. But the best thing about Newcastle is that it's rarely on anyone's tourist agenda since most guidebooks overlook it. So, for example, I had the castle all to myself.

The famous Georgian streets of Newcastle on the left; on the right, the monument to Earl Grey (yes, THE Earl Gray)

The old city walls of Newcastle

The castle for which Newcastle got its name is actually not that new; in fact it's over 800 years old. All that is left of it is the original keep, and another remnant, the Black Gate nearby. The two parts of the castle are separated from each other by the main railway line, that cuts so closely by the keep that the entire structure trembles with each passing train.

The two parts of the castle, on the left, the Black Gate (1247); on the right, the keep (1168).

Newcastle is also famous for its three older bridges - the Tyne Bridge, the Swing Bridge, and the High-Level Bridge.

I bought myself a whole new outfit in Newcastle. Well, it's only good for hiking, but I'll need it when I go to the Lake District in a few days. New hiking boots, a rain jacket, and a floppy hat. (I stopped wearing that multi-colored floppy hat you can see in a few early photos on this site when people started giggling at me in the street whenever I wore it!) But oh those skinny legs, and big boots! :)

Finally, after a great, full day, back to South Shields. On the way to the hotel, I stopped by the dockside to take some photos that attempt to capture the industrial, maritime feel to the river.