Northumberland has a wild, romantic and relatively unknown coastline. I grew up here, and my father often took us out exploring the towns, countryside and coastline for tens of miles around, yet I'd never even heard of Dunstanburgh, and its spectacularly positioned ruined castle. It sits on a grassy hill right on the coast, and the waves lap at the rocks just a few feet beneath its eastern wall.

More of Dunstanburgh Castle later: I started my day with a forty mile drive north up the A1 to Alnwick. I came to this area to see castles, but it happened to be the first day of Alnwick Fair Week, and there was a very old-fashioned fair taking place in the market-place, with many local residents dressed in medieval costume (interesting, only if you like Morris dancing or home-made macrame :)

Three woman trying to sell their home-knits at Alnwick Fair.

Alnwick Castle is very well known, often called the "Windsor of the North". It's one of the largest intact Norman castles, and it's been in the same family, the Percys (headed by the Duke of Northumberland) for over seven hundred years. Pretty mind-boggling, when you think of it. A couple of centuries ago, His Grace (that's what you're supposed to call him) the fourth Duke, completely redecorated the medieval interiors, using Italian sculptors, and local master wood-workers and importing expensive obects and artwork, such as paintings by Canaletto, Titian and Turner, and furniture once owned by Louis XIV.

In the grounds of Alnwick Castle.

You can tour the big state rooms during the Summer; the Duke and his family use the rooms themselves during the rest of the year. I saw a lot of beautiful objects when I was in Italy, but there were plenty here too - a couple of beautiful marble and bronze fireplaces were the most impressive. You can tell the rooms are used because there are photos (in cheap frames :) of the current ducal family, including one of his gorgeous, blond, teenage son. Earlier family photos include the marriage of the previous Duke; Queen Mary and Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother were in the photo too! (By the way, there's been a lot of talk recently here about the Queen Mum since she's one hundred years old this year. There was a sarcastic piece in the Guardian about her which said that she chose the title "Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother" on purpose, with its chief advantage being that you get to be called Queen twice.)

More Alnwick Castle - it's a big place!

South Shields, Saturday, 1st July 2000, 10.31 p.m.

The reason for the long break since I started writing today's journal is that I got a phone call from the hotel receptionist saying that my cousin Paul was here to see me. I haven't seen Paul in something like twenty years, yet we were good friends when we were kids. I'd called him the other day and left a message with his son that I was staying here, but his son sounded so deeply "gormless" (I'm not sure if this word is Geordie or not, but it's used to describe someone a bit slow on the uptake) that I wasn't sure if he'd gotten the message. Apparently he did, since he was downstairs waiting for me with his long-time partner, Diane, whom I'd never met.

It's amazing - although he was obviously much older, in many ways he hadn't changed at all. Still the same, gentle, funny, not too bright boy I knew when I was growing up. We had a good old chat, and he amazed me by constantly dragging out anecdotes from my childhood which I didn't remember. Both Paul and Diane knocked back the pints, while I kept them company more sedately with a couple of gin and tonics. At one point I mentioned something that made it obvious that I'm gay, but it turns out that they knew anyway. Apparently my brother Neil told Paul years ago without revealing his own homosexuality to Paul. The nerve of him!

Knocking back the pints with Paul and Diane

After Alnwick, I drove about seven miles through quiet, winding country roads to the coast, and parked in Caster. You can only reach Dunstanburgh Castle on foot, and Caster is the closest village. As soon as you leave the village, you spot the ghostly, craggy ruins in the distance, on a wave-beaten bluff, about a mile and a half distant.

First site of Dunstanburgh Castle

Dodging the sheep, and their droppings, you tramp along the coast, the castle growing bigger and less hazy as you approach.

Baaaaaaaa. Actually, it's more of a "Naaaaaaaa", but maybe they have a Geordie accent.

Getting closer to the castle.

Finally, you're right there. The castle is ruined so perfectly - broken fingers pointing to the sky: makes you think they hired a couple of window-arrangers from Harrods for "custom ruining".

Enjoying some rare sun and warmth.

I'd intended to go on to Bamburgh Castle too, but I was beginning to feel tired, so I decided against it in the end. Besides, having already seen one splendid castle (Alnwick), and one dramatic, romantic castle, I didn't feel the need of seing a splendid, dramatic and romantic castle all in one (Bamburgh!) It's amazing to think that all these castles are within a fifteen mile long coastal strip, and this doesn't even include other medieaval castles nearby, such as Warkworth. And yet few people outside of the Northeast ever take the time to discover this amazing region of beauty and history.