The Local Scene Cont'd

Well here it is...after only four posts have have missed my self imposed deadline. I have not received a deluge of emails, complaining of my poor efforts, but I imagine that is only because there are so many that my emails have simply given up and blocked them all :0

I was out last night seeing a film (The Libertine) and failed to sum up the energy to create. Shame on me. Not too much exciting happened this week, so I will showcase a little more of my surrondings (AHH-HHEEMMM Still no offers of visits, despite my pleading last week). I did cross one more hurdle into adulthood though. Now I know you are all venturing guess...'Oh he has got a fulltime job' or 'Oh he is getting married' or 'Oh he has reproduced'. No what I have done is far more serious, an action that has transformed me from 'Cool, laid-back foreigner' to 'That dapper Canadian gentleman'...yes I have bought my first umbrella. I daresay that I will be unrecognizable when I return home.

But enough foolish lamentations, the show must go on.

This is the Angel of the North, meant to represent the (I do not know) start of the north? It stands south of Newcastle, before Durham. You can only see it if you are travelling by rail or car. Now I know what you are thinking, wow, ugly and pointless, way to go northeast England. But I find that, living near it for a year, it rather grows on you. hmmm.

This is Jesmond Dene (Not Middle Earth). It is a park just near where I live. Despite its obvious beauty I have been just a few times. It may be because that last time I went I slipped down a muddy hill and was rather put out for the day. Not that I am Blaming my relations, but it was Stace and Andrew's idea to walk to Segendum, the Roman fort remains that are one end to Hadrian's Wall (Look it up!).

And here are my relations...reenacting a...well you can figure it out, on a Roman toilet. I know what some of you might be saying, 'Why are there only foolish pictures of Alan's sister, why are there none of him?'. Fools, I call you, while I do have a number of...uncompromising pics of myself, I am not about to paste them on my own blog. tsk. I expected more from you, I really did.

This is the Metro, sort of the subway of Newcastle (I am racking my mind for interesting things but I am just blanking, sorry). I say sort of subway as there are only fourish stations that are underground, most like here above ground. In fact this is South Gosforth, where I stayed last year, hey hey. Here is an interesting fact about the Metro, it may be the only subway in the world that goes through the same station twice on different tracks. I will not explain that further unless I get a visit (Wow am I a sour cat or what).

This is St. James park, the local stomping grounds for my football club Newcastle United. I have not in fact been to a match yet, but there are things afoot to get to one soonish, Newcastle U v. Wigan I believe. But my mate, Ian (Geordie and BIG Newc fan) says he will not sit with me if. It seems when we watch a match on telly that I keep shouting out PENALTY. And (Though I played soccer for 5 year so should know better) it seems that there are no penalties in football. He says that I might get lynched if I scream that at a match. More proof about the fanatical love for football over here. My brother-in-law Andrew has a roots Canada scarf (Red and white, eh). Now he has to stop wearing it as he gets negative comments thrown at him in the city. Reason being is that red and white are the colors of Sunderland, hated rivals of Newcastle United.

Well I must finish there, my bed beckons, ta.

A B

The Local Scene

I was going to put up no pictures this week as I was worried about how many I have left (Only like 80ish). My Mother suggested that I describe Newcastle to those who do not or have not already lived here. A good idea, and I just realised that I can steal pics off the net to help. Please do not tell Scotland Yard, I am already being hunted for using my accent as a pick up move on ladies :)

Newcastle straddles the river Tyne (Hence Newcastle UPON Tyne...ohhhhh, I get it), with a number of bridges spanning it. They are supposed to be historic but they are just bridges, execpt the Millenium Bridge. It is quite neat in that to allow shipping through it leans.

It connects central Newcastle with Gateshead, its nasty little brother (Sorry Kate, she is my flatmate from Gateshead). I know next to nothing about the far side of the river execpt that it has the Sage Gateshead, a large concert hall (Yes, John, it looks like a giant turd).

I am afraid that I have not been yet, as the only show I heard about was Sting...yeah, not quite my cup of tea. This South side of the river also has the Baltic, a huge art gallery in a refurbished flour mill. Though apparently it has had some financial mismangagement problems so I do not know what displays they are still clinging too.

If anyone ever VISITS me...hahem...sorry, we would have to visit some of these locales. Now my favorite place in all of Newcastle is the Tyneside Cinema. It is an independant film theatre, or art film house. It also has Intermezzo, a cafe that offers the best hot chocolate. Period. Seriously, it is better than spending an afternoon skating on the river and coming in to find your Mom has a batch of choco and cinnamon toast (Sorry Mom. Take this as a challenge and drown me in excellent home cooking this winter :)).

Of course they play the non-Hollywood films, so to sate my desire for these I ventue to the Gate. A building comprised of bars, American chain restaurants, a casino (Just found that, and no Dad, I will not visit it) and the Odeon, where all my crap big-budget films show.

Now there is so much more to do and see here, I have just shown you some of the most popular things. There are countless more things to do and see, which is what you might get to see next week. I will finish with one more photo, of the town moor. These grasslands are common in most English cities and this one is still being used by cows...so watch where you step.

Malmo, Sweden

I would like to thank our veterans belatedly, especially my Grandfather, for their sacrifices and commitments made. I wrote a poem and sent it to the telegraph though I doubt it is any good. I will not post it here as I am sure it is not everyone's cup of tea. But I can email to anyone if they wish.

I am just peachy keen...well mostly, I did partake of the spirits quite a bit this weekend, but it is all good. Nothing much took place this past week, except my mobile was stolen at the pub, so I am phone less. My sister had a B-day party, she is something like fifty-five...or thirty-three, somewhere in there. Since she had the tramatic week of admitting to herself her age, what could a loving brother do to help...say I know, I can make fun of here from pics of our trip to Malmo last year.

This is one of the central parks in Malmo, Sweden and those of you from Saint John will find it curiously similar to our downtown. The large difference is that this place is full of Swedes...and yes men, most of the women were beautiful.

This windmill was also right in the center of the city. A nice blend of the old and new. Andrew, Stacey and I went there to meet Andrew's brother Neal and join in his birthday celebrations. It was also the first time that any siblings on either side of my sister's union had met each other. Malmo is to the south of Sweden and we went down to the shores of the Baltic.

So when my sister saw this barrier, she felt compelled to honor her 80s roots and do a little crane action. Now this is a lady with many degrees and published work so one assumes that she carefully thought through this action.

Ohhhh, I guess not. Like sharks it appears that my sister cannot move backwards. Now I direct your attention to her attire. With the amount of warm layers she has on it indicates how chilly it was outside. Now just imagine how cold that water is going to be.

Now who is this brave young lad you ask? Well it is Stace's partner, Andrew. The poor sod. Though I will admit that I think Neal and I were laughing quite hardily at this point (And I still such fine action shots).

I think he only lost three toes to hypothermia, so that is alright then :) I am sure my parents will be happy to know that their daughter has someone to pull her out of the corners she paints herself into.

And this is him at his brothers birthday party. Notice the Turkish smoking pipe (No John, you smoke tobacco, nothing illegal). It was a fun party given the fact that none of us spoke any Swedish. It was a great night of friendly Swedes coming up to us and saying 'Canadian...yes? Super!' and then wandering away for some more stimulating conversation.

I am starting to run out of photos so I may soon have to include some original thought of my own. I know, shudders just went down everyones' spines. With my morose personality it is sure to just be complaints. Oh well, I just have to write them, not read em'.

Durham, England

Well I recieved some interesting reponses to my first blog. My good friend John Bowles said there was no way that I was going to keep writing but should at least keep to photos up. My loving mother said my spelling was poor. Well...an curious examination of my identity...lazy and illiterate. No I am just making fun, I had some nice responses, cheers.

I was going to put up some pics from the Guy Fawkes bonfire party I went to last night but the camera ran out of power after the first shot. So instead I will post pics from ym trip to Durham last year. It is about a twenty minute train ride to the south and home to Durham castle and catherdral (More of em?).

This is the river Wear (pronounced we're) with the cathedral just visible to the left. Now I know what you are all thinking, in this idyllic, serene locale, pleasant thoughts must prevade and stimulate intellectual thought. We in fact had stick races in the river...I lost.

'We' includes from left my sister Stacey, brother-in-law Andrew and Becky, seen here doing some skipping. Sure it all looks like smiles now, but we have yet to climb to the top of the cathedral.

And here we are. And It was something like three hundred steps in the dark on a winding staircase. And it is just large enough for me to fit going up. And there are people coming down at the same time. But as you can see it was worth it view wise, looking down at the spires and below down to the castle.

From here we went back down, slowly, and walked around the Wear, which circles the village. It was here that I discovered that Andrew cannot help but take on any dare you put to him.

That is probably enough for this week. My plans to discuss the current re-invention of American media has been scuppered by an evening debate at the local over lager. But I will finish with some disturbing news.

You all know and love my jeep I am sure, but 'shock,horror' I just learned that my mother chose to not 'wait' for the garage door to go all the way up when she recently drove it. Needless to say a light or two was...displaced?...no how about ripped out. It is nice to know that everything is going swimmingly at home. Hopefully Powercat is still alive.

This is my first entry and since I have a backlog of photos to get on here I think I will skip this weeks events and post some pics from my first trip here in England.

I went far...about an hour and a half....which I know, to Canadians, is not much. That is what we drive just to get to work. But over here, that is a day long trip. Seriously, cars are packed with foodstuffs and the lot. Crazy. Anyways here are some pics...


This is Bamburgh Castle. The thing about England is you can throw a rock in any direction and you are sure to hit a castle or cathedral. The country is just chalk full of them. I should probably know some history about it but this was a year ago folks and I will not make a fool out of myself by going on the net to find some info now.

This is the south down the coast from the battlements. In retrospect I should have the view north because then you can see Lindisfarne, an island with some serious Christian history. Lots of saints performing crazy miracles lived there, the Lindisfarne Gospels were written there (Get Out, Really?). I know this is a bit of history you will forget because I have not even a proper shot. No worries.

Here are the four of my flatmates that I went up with. From left there is Catherin from Lyons, France, Jenny from Liverpool, England, Pierre-Francois from Paris, France and Arve or A.G. from somewhere unpronounceable in Norway. It is interesting that the uni stuck all the foreigners and older people together in rez. Nice.

These last two shots are just scenes I found pleasing, for no other reason are they here. Thanks for visiting and I fully intend to update this site weekly so you can come back if you like...I am thinking next week,,,the re-liberalization of American media? And for sure some more pics. Cheers, Alan