1770 The Party is over for July

The party is over, well for July at least, which is just as well as the funds rapidly diminish. The return began well waking early, I shall miss my extra large disability room in
the centre of Croydon. I feel that my trip has been useful as well a enjoyable, despite the disappointment of Sussex losing the Friends Provident Trophy and the three Jazz bands missing the opportunity for a great launch party which the audience could have shared. I did not commence to pack or get myself ready to meet the day until nine and although there was plenty of time I commenced to haul the case up the incline to East Croydon station just after 10pm. I was looking forward to the train trip, the enthusiasm for relaxed coach travel waning for another year as was pulling the large case. The ticket machine was negotiated and I made no effort to go for the St Pancras International train which was at a platform when I looked at the arrivals board but did not leave for another minute or two. I then found that there were trains every 15 minutes in both directions at this time of day, amazing. There was time for a Starbucks coffee.

The train was non stop top London Bridge and then only three or four further stops before the International. There was a family, at least they and the appearance of a family who had been on holiday in the sun, boarding the train at Gatwick and also heading for the International and a main line station- parents in their late forties with three teenage girls, all overweight, with pink cases and one a pink sombrero of the type often worn by a hen party on the razzle dazzle. The parents were left with the cases until requesting help from the girls.

Most passengers with cases headed for the moving staircase so I followed on. At the top I could not release a trolley and a staff member saw I was having difficulties and needed a special key and several attempts before one was released, having advised at his request that I wanted to take the luggage over to Kings Cross. Making way through the International Mall with announcements in French and English there was an end seat vacant in the central area so I parked the trolley and eat the chicken pieces and cherries, bringing the remains home with me, having forgotten they were in the bag until finding a rubbish bin. I had passed the remains of the meal the previous evening to the cleaner at the lodge who checked that I was leaving Lodge completing my visit around 10 am but on the train I was reluctant to add to the burden of one women was small personal bag over her shoulder who spent the journey going backwards and forwards filling several see through sacks with rubbish, piling them up by doorways as the journey progressed. She also cleaned out the toilets before reaching Newcastle. A new system is now in operation by the beleaguered National express railways with three ticket checkers forming a line on the platform after the Leeds train departed and the announcement made that the adjacent train was the 12.30 for Newcastle stopping at Durham, Darlington, York, Northallerton, Doncaster and one other stop after Kings Cross or was it two! No ticket collectors came during the journey although there was at least one staff member available for advice and the refreshment trolley passed by at least twice.

The rain stopped as I approached the crossing of the road between the two stations and the sun came out briefly. I then found a seat close to the departures and arrival’s board waiting for the noon train to Newcastle and Scotland to depart and moving to work out the likely platform just before the 12.10 Leeds train was on its way. My first reaction was the I had been allocated an old carriage as on either side there were compartments with seats of some style however I came to the conclusion that the old fashioned styling was intentional as there was a super loo of the type with a circular door and the need to press two buttons to close and then lock the slow moving door. The arm rests were fixed parts of the seats, but they were comfortable and there was a mobile phone charging unit as well as a computer electricity plug. I was set on reading Sons and Lovers. The seat next to me remained vacant for the whole journey.

I did read a substantial number of pages reaching the point of his interest with the young woman fro the farm, Miriam, based as much of the book on his early experience and accurate depictions of his parents brothers and sisters, death of his older brother and going to work at the surgical appliance and good’s factory, I enjoyed the remaining pain aux raisin with a purchased coffee and then a packet of crisps.

I did pay some attention to the other passengers with pride of place going to the mother of young Freddie. She and another young woman had two push chairs, lots of luggage also pink and five children between them. Freddie was being treated as adult despite his reluctance to get in his push chair. At the departing station she was met by an man much older than herself and she gave him an exceptionally long and passionate matrimonial kiss. He also greeted the children in a manner which also suggested he was not their father and before arriving at the station she called their father asking him to take them so she could begin her holiday. I wanted to know more about this situation.

There was a lot of young people, many with back packs getting off the train at York and also many people getting on the train for the minutes journey to Newcastle. Surely the university was already down? I wanted to know more.

The lift at Newcastle Central Station was out of order and the information assistant on Newcastle station he Metro was nothing to do with them. Someone from the Metro came to my aid hearing clung of the case as I took down the flights of steps one step at a time. The second lift to the platform level was working. Getting on to the train people of all ages rushed to get the available seats regardless of my predicament getting the case over the wide gap and the notices about giving up seats to the elderly, disabled and to mothers.

At some point an older man tackled someone who had put their foot on the seat drawing his attention tot he notice asking for this not to be done. The culprit asked if the man worked for the train company or the police. The other man commented that he bet his house was tip. He was invited to visit the house. Did I detect menace in the voice. I was facing the opposite direction when the incident happened and two men left at Hebburn station leaving a third reaching for his mobile phone.

I have forgotten to mention that the Labour Party had a resounding loss at Norwich with the young conservative woman aged 27 winning and becoming the youngest member of the present Parliament. It emerged that Labour had only investigated five of the number over the expenses scandal and all had been told they would not stand again at the General election. It looks as if Sir Jeremy Beecham was in charge. Selection of the five appears to have been made the Chief Whip and Part secretary but one cannot imagine that the Prime Minister did not have a say so. Local people were supporters of the man to be deselected given his contribution over the past decade. There is some surprise that the Conservatives are doing so well and not the Greens who had hopes or the Liberal democrats.

I watched the Foreign Secretary address an audience in Nato explaining British political strategy in Afghanistan. It is the first time I heard a full speech by him and he came across better than the usual sound bites which usually lack gravitas. Only later when catching up on the last Prime Minister’s Question time before the Summer Parliamentary recess did I appreciate the issues of Britain’s continuing role in Afghanistan and the relationship with Pakistan had been the subject of the exchange between the Labour and Tory political leaders. I thought Mr Miliband’s exposition of the complexity, the interactivity and the need for a prolonged thorough programme of political and social activity was the best heard on the subject and only served to reinforced the questionable value of P.M.Q’s.

Back home it was time to make an account

The cost of the Coach to London was £20,70 (£20.70) return although I chose to take the train back to get home for the quarter final of the 20 20 competition. I was sent two copies of the coach ticket, the cost of the Travel Lodge accommodation at the Royal Scott Kings Cross for three nights was £58.50 (78.50). The two day stay at Croydon Travel Lodge was only £18 (96.50) The Taxi to the Royal Scott plus rip came to £23 (119.50) and the taxi from St Pancras International to London Bridge was £16 (135.50) The train home cost £36.95 for the single journey (172.45) The fare to the 02 and back was £5.60 (178.05), From London Bridge to Croydon on Saturday and return on Monday was 2x £4.40 (186.85) Thus accommodation and travel for five nights, six days. £31 a day

The cost of the ticket for the Friends Provident Final at Lords was £52 (52) plus programme £5 (57) and the O2 Indigo Jazz concert £30.05 (87.05). Cinema Ticket for the Informers £6 (£93.05). 280.90

For food and drinks I did not keep records other than receipts so much is from memory. Service station bottle water £1.20 (1.20);Coffee Tillisi £1.50 ( 2.70), Water Trocadero £.20 (3.90) Three Peroni Beers O2 £7.20 (11.10) Diet Coke Travel Lodge Croydon £1 (12.10) J20 Sunday £2.25 (14.35). Cabernet Sauvignon quarter bottle £2.25 (16.60) Coffee Sat morning £1.80 (18.40) Coffee Lords £1.50 (19.90) Diet Coke Lords £2 (21.90) Cherry Diet Coke London Bridge £1 (22.90) Coffee train home £ 1.80 (24.70) Coffee Starbucks Croydon Station £1.80 (26.50) 307.40

Two MS Chicken Pieces and Olives £5. 4 Pain aux Raisin £1.90 (6.90) Cherries £3.49 (10.39) Breakfast at Travel Lodge £7.50 £17.89. McChicken Meal £3.80 (21.69) Cherries £3.39 (25.08) Spicy Chicken wings £3.65 (28.73.) Crisps £1 (29.73) (sandwich Crisps and Danish £3.80 (33.85) Bacon and Egg Roll £4 (37.85). Pan au chocolat £.85 (38.7) 345,40 plus flannels £3.82 total £349.22) approximately £58 a day.

I returned to find the Television sound behaving erratically and then dying. I had rushed back for the cricket and had to watch with the interne commentary on the computer. Kent won the toss and had an excellent start getting 50 runs of the first five overs. Durham then fought back and when Kent only managed 150 having looked like getting 180, the game appeared to swing in Durham’s favour however the Durham batting collapsed, especially Warner got off the plane from Oz to join in the game only to be out for a zero. What a waste of money. It was a humiliating defeat. On the bright side Sussex beat Warwickshire under the lights, making up for the debacles on Saturday. The crowd were disappointed with the fall of wickets and a score of 150 fearing the worst again, but this time bowlers triumphed and Warwickshire never looked liked getting close to the total required.

I was too tired to go out for milk and food so had soup with crackers, some fish and some pudding rice with some olives left over as a starter. I felt something of a chill and took a good ration of Scotch as a defence. The was a horrible long list of things waiting to be done. The party was over.

1769 The multi racial capital of the world

The day began and ended with good food and in between there were bus rides which provided considerable insight into the changing life of the capital city where I believe that the next national census will confirm that the majority are no longer of all white origin or with British born parents, beyond grand parents.

I could not resist the buffet break at the Travel Lodge and enjoyed a bowl of grapefruit segments and two helpings of the cooked dishes with four sausages, two or was it three large slices of bacon, scrambled eggs, some tomatoes and mushrooms, with two cups of coffee and then a third with a croissant and jam. I took my time and unlike some did not overdo the toast, croissants and such like. There was no fruit available or Danish pastries and while I might have enjoyed some grapes, the pastries would have been for later. There were muffins which have become popular with the children.

On return late afternoon I called in at Marks and Spencer’s West Croydon where for five pounds there was a special offer of two cartons of chicken pieces and a carton of olives. There were other combinations on offer of three items five pounds, including cold meats and cooked fish. I also bought some cherries, pains aux raisin and a quarter bottle of cabernet sauvignon. This covered food for the evening and for lunch on the train home. I also made two cups of tea and purchased some ice cold coke from the machine along the corridor.

I had no plans for the day and the weather was better than anticipated I decided to opt for bus rides and for the city centre than the countryside. I walked along the quiet streets to the West Croydon bus station. I chided a man who was stopping people to ask for help and this included a young woman coming in our direction who looked most afraid when he told her he had been in hospital for ten years. I encouraged her to move on while I explained to him why whatever his circumstances he should not approach strangers in this way, especially young women and counselled him to go for help to the nearest hospital or police station. I was tempted to ensure that he did this but again resisted taking further action. There was no direct daytime bus to central London so I caught one to Brixton station. This took a route different to the main road which I had sometimes used when travelling by car North Croydon, Thornton Heath, Norbury, Streatham with its Common, and then Brixton. Over recent years my preference has been for the route which goes to Tooting and Mitcham, then Beddington when heading for Wallington or Croydon via Thornton Heath. They all have their traffic blackspots and one has to allow an hour and more whereas the train journey is under 40 minutes to Wallington and can be half this time to East Croydon. In the morning we travelled more on a residential route which where the traffic was less but long, hot and tiring, nevertheless. As it happens the journey back, on a different bus route travelled the traditional way along the main shopping streets with their hundreds up hundreds of restaurants and traditional public houses.


From Brixton to Oxford Street and back the buses followed different routes, one the taking Stockwell Road to the new bus station before the Vauxhall Bridge and passing by the former Middlesex House onto Victoria station, passing the rear of Buckingham Palace and Marble Arch and the first part off Oxford Street before turning Northward. The second bus commenced on the same side of Oxford Street as on arrival and then went down Regent Street at Oxford Circus, along Whitehall to the Westminster Bridge, and the Imperial War Museum in Lambeth before passing close to Kennington Oval then Stockwell and the Brixton Road passing the Police station, the centre for Operation swamp the stop and search of West Indian Black youths in 1980 and which led to a spontaneous riot in which 300 people were injured, shops and cars set ablaze, consequence of racial discrimination and poverty among the primarily black West Indian community and which was reflected strongly in the local police force, and which took another two decades to be fully recognised and effectively tackled. There was further rioting in 1985 when police armed in riot gear raided a house and accidentally shot the mother of the man they were seeking.

As with Parliament, and the military services, the police and professions such as the law, there is significant under representation of non whites and women in general in terms of the demographic reality. All a decade of Labour has done is to increase the gulf between rich and poor and diminish the opportunities for social mobility.

During the past 25 years the demography has changed beyond recognition as the West Indian community is only one of the racial and cultural groups dominating south London which I know best, but applies to all other areas of the capital.

White people were only one in ten to twenty on the four buses and then the language spoken was not primarily English. In fact English was only spoken by one white family and the West Indians, who were divided between those in casual clothes and those in their best Sunday outfits with suits, shirts and ties for the men and colourful hats for the ladies as well as suits and best dresses. There were more Africans than I have experienced before and more from the Far East. There were fewer from central Europe. There were more Muslims than anticipated.

The most noticeable aspect is that everyone appeared to be at ease with everyone else and the care and attention given to children, including by men was a joy to behold. One white woman offered her seat to an elderly Blackman and there was some evidence of great recognition of age although some non whites took seats for aged, inform and mothers with young children regardless. All four buses became crowded, yet push chairs and luggage did not raise problems. The streets are packed with buses and along oxford Street, with taxis. One problem in central London is that the route through the capital which one can take without paying the congestion charge is understandably a crawl during the times when the charges apply.


Most people travelled for only part of the journey. Three African women with two children one a baby who was fed with loving attention travelled almost all the way from Croydon to Brixton. One of the rare English conversations was a great delight as a son with his teenage daughter was taking his mother to Victoria Coach station because of the absence of the relevant underground line for weekend works. My interest began when father drew the attention of the daughter to the O2 Academy as we left Brixton High street. She had mentioned the Disciples which I thought being Sunday was the religious context rather than a long standing Brixton Reggae movement. My impression was that the mother lived in Cheltenham and had recently taken to coming up on day trips to attend matinee performances and was considering doing this more often. The son was insistent that they should arrange something special for a forthcoming birthday while mother did not want speeches, did not wanted a fuss and wanted family and all the children rather than friends. The son said it was for her to chose who would be there but he was not promising about speeches and he wanted to arrange caterers. My impression is that he was a recent arrival in the area and ideally would have liked somewhere even more central, with Soho mentioned. Most of the other conversations I could not understand and there was less using of the phone than expected although still quite a lot.

On Friday I had made a similar type of journey, this time going across westward passing the new Covent Garden Market along the way to Clapham and Lewisham. A black woman had said hullo to a white young woman who was struggling to manage her three young children, struggling in the sense of managing three youngsters, one in a buggy, on and off a bus when it starts to rain. The black woman asked about the child who had been in hospital. It had rained so hard that it was impossible to cross from one side of the road at Clapham by the station. These travels brought out the vastness of the capital with its hundreds of local communities.

At the last census in 2001 30% of the 8 million Londoners. over two million, were born outside the UK, and to which had to be added, those born here with parents and grandparents born form outside the UK nations. There are 300 languages spoken and over 50 communities with 10000 or more people from other nations gathered together. I believe the 2011 census will astound the nation with the extent of change during the past decade.

I did stop for a J20 in a deserted pub just off Oxford Street in part of Soho as I had existed from Marks and Spencer’s by mistake at the rear. I had hone into the stored remembering that I need to replace face and hand towels as my existing pair and become tattered. One tourist family had entered checked the menu and departed. Fish and chips were on offer for £9 while a little away along there was a specialist fish and chips seller with take away for £5 and eat in for £6. Oxford Street was busy but not as busy as on weekend days and Saturdays. I could not help noticing an Arab clothing store with a man and two female assistants standing outside when I arrived and when returned from my walkabout standing outside on the pavement with no customers inside despite a 50% reduction sale.

I did watch the last part of D Day the sixth of June and the last part of the Comancheros having gone to sleep in between. I listened to Keane some Bach Concertos for piano and cello, Duffy’s Rockferry and some Billie Holiday. I decided not to pack and going to bed I pulled the alarm chord instead of that for turning off he bathroom light and within seconds a member of staff called in and showed me how to switch off the alarm. It has obviously happened before, many times, but I felt a fool again.

1765 Guide to rough travel to London

It is Thursday July 23rd 2009 and I am in my Travel Lodge Room in the heart of London and I am looking forward to an interesting day where I must pace myself in terms of activity, and food. I was woken early by people banging doors and with no regard for the position of others. This is not necessarily their fault as my door at the Trowell service area could not be closed without a hefty bang and was due for replacement. However there is a tendency for people, especially young people it disregard even more than usual the welfare on others when they are hotels on holiday, especially in other countries to their own.

I had a good day yesterday despite my luggage being heavy just to drag along pavements and the journey by coach being excessive long and exhausting. The day commenced, as it has today early but I was in a relaxed mood, but with some continuing nervousness about travelling to London where it has been reported that the flu outbreak is already severe.

I had insufficient milk for a cereal breakfast and although I could and on reflection should have gone to the 24 hour store for a pint was not in the mood wanting to finish writing and play some games against the computer. This thought association prompts to plays Free Cell which goes well but then I am held up and regret the decision as it at best has to be described as a tertiary activity in the grand scheme and balance of my life these days. However I returned to sort out the difficulty so I could move and back to the writing.

The case became heavy, too heavy for the journey in hand because it was load with a small quantity of emergency rations, single tins of rice and beans, one of crab meat chunks and one of sardines. The new black casual shoes in addition to go with brown sandals, and this laptop. However there were less shirts half a dozen to the dozen of previous trips so that overall the difference between being manageable and not was a small one. I will have to do better when I return in August and not have the problem of having to move out on the morning of the cricket and am not able to travel and book in on the place of stay in the evening. To achieve peace of mind before then I will investigate left luggage possibilities at St Pancras which will be the ideal, or Kings Cross and then if both of these fails check the position at Victoria where there has been left luggage of the locker type. What happens if for any reason there are not does not bear contemplation at this moment.

I will also look of out inexpensive cooked breakfast and the purchase of sandwiches, fruit and other such items, There is and M and S at St Pancras but there should be cheaper in the locality. Until I have done this I will not settle on the rest of the day although I am inclined to go to the pictures in the afternoon and then the concert in the evening at the O2 arena.

I also recharged my mobile phone, ensured I had all the relevant papers and tickets and had an early lunch of two barbecue beef cuts and the remaining lamb cake as opposed to fish cake, together with the carton of sliced melon. It is seven now, the alarm clock has sounded and I will continue writing until eight, get myself ready and then make my way out around nine with a view to commencing travel with a one day travel card rather than use the buses as I am returning late in the evening. I decided on an ad hoc breakfast of coffee and then tomato cuppa a soup with crotons and wholemeal crackers.

Yesterday morning I was therefore ready for departure at midday when it started to rain. This was the one thing which could adversely affect my plans as I retain a vivid memory of one occasion when it commenced to rain heavily as I set off down the hill towards the Metro station where I was catching a train for Newcastle Station. However seeing that it was dry around 1pm I decided to use the break in the weather to go to the bus station even though it would mean about a half hour wait. In fact my timing worked well because I arrived at twenty five to 2 and the coach came at ten to and being early meant that I was able to selected the corner seat at the back of the coach. This has two major advantages on other seats. It is by the rear emergency door, but it is not this aspect which attracted by the additional leg and movement room. It is also a three seat area so that even, as happened someone came to the position there would be a seat space between us.

I was alert for the first part of the journey and enjoy the ability to look out and around which is not possible when driving a car or on a train. The main feature of my coach journey was the conversation from York to the coach station at Victoria with a young South African of Dutch descent. The second is the cosmopolitan nature of the fellow travellers with different languages and skins. Less than a quarter were of white skin and the majority were under 30 although there was one other elderly man on his own and one grandparent travelling with two other generations. The position has changed within a year although the trend was apparent over the past two to three years.

On the way out of Shields close the area of the adult education college I noticed the juxtaposition of the Brown Sugar next to the Meadow Grass although we passed by too quickly to take in what the shops provided although one served food, I think. Brown Sugar was the name of Acid in the sixties and grass for pot. Given the prevalence of hundreds of students passing this area daily I decided the chosen names were not accidental.

The King George the V road is the main road from Sunderland into South Shields running parallel to the coast road. It could be called a boulevard matching the finest anywhere as it central reservation is at the evening wider than that to the roadways it separates. The space is covered with ornamental trees surrounded by ever changing floral beds and structures to take eight hanging baskets. There are also areas of trees and shrubs. There are also grass vergers to the pavements with more trees. There is a cycle lane in both directions and parking bays for local residents and delivery vehicles. The quality of the landscaping pales on reaching the centre of Cleadon Village with has a prize winning floral display.

On reaching the road into central Sunderland I noticed that the large Lord’s Tool Hire branch is closed along with the Cartridge World store. Approaching the city centre I noted the Art Studios close to the former College of technology complex and where the nearest building is not identified as the Design centre suggesting this is where the art and design courses of the university are now held. Opposite the coach stop at Sunderland station the new office complex appears completed and empty and the sign board mentions there re 41 square feet of space for hire and that the building contains a bar restaurant.

We stopped over a road bridge just outside of Sunderland on the A19 to collect the second driver steward. And then went via the attractive Norton Village to Billingham and Stockton where we picked some passengers but it was the Boro than the coach filled with some new arrivals having to share the aisle seat with a stranger. Someone came to the third seat in what had become my space, said nothing and got off at York. He was replaced by the South African on his way to Southampton to stay with his brother and who was getting another coach at the Victoria Station. He had been to Dublin for a time, as well as his life in South Africa and this led to a wide ranging discussion which included drug misuse, the language of young people and discipline, plus the future of humanity and the planet.

This was just as well as several hours passed by. This used to be a six hour journey but over an hour had been added going in and out of York as to get to the stop at York station one has to follow the traffic into the city one way system.

For part of the journey I commenced to read Sons and Lovers the D H Lawrence early work which describes his childhood and paints what appears to be an accurate picture of his mother and father and their relationship. The descriptions are excellent and provide a vivid account of the community of miners at the turn of the nineteenth century.. For people born in the 1980’s such as my South African new acquaintance this is ancient history more than 100 years ago. With my birth and care mothers born in the first decade of the twentieth and their eldest sister born in the last, I am very much still connected. I noted a period of torrential downpour about a couple of hours from central London but the weather changed to sunny warm and it was a good night on arrival although there was evidence of recent rain.

My first intention was to drag the case to Victoria Coach station and the travel by the Underground train to Kings Cross and from there drag the case to the Travel Lodge. However I just did not feel up to it at that time of night and hailed a taxi which proved to be the latest with relayed speech and air conditioning. As expected the journey across London at that time of night resulted in a charge of £20, about the same cost as the eight hour coach trip into London.

There has been a furniture and door upgrade at the Travel Lodge which was a former Hotel so there is a large reception and bar restaurant as well as three lifts. However despite the upgrade I noticed there was no chair and having stripped and got into pyjamas, for comfort rather than bed, I first decided to leave enquiries until the morning, But then on finding there was no milk for the tea and I dressed again and was told the rooms did not have chairs but the staff member suggested that I borrow a light chair from the restaurant which I did and presently use as it makes a substantial difference. I also enjoyed the cup of tea and the coffee this morning. It is approaching nine and there is sunshine outside. It is time to make good use of this day.

1762 Eastwood and D H Lawrence

The life of DH Lawrence has always interested me more than his work and yet when in the February I watched the film made of the D.H Lawrence novel, The Virgin and Gypsy on a new Sky free film channel and which has disappeared as quickly as it started, I wrote about the film and the five novels I have in MySpace Blog 652 (The Rainbow, The Trespasser, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Kangeroo and Sons and Lovers) but I do not remember writing about his life or his birthplace Eastwood. I was by puzzled by this so went through the list of Blogs until I found the writing and then remembered that I had intended to devote more time to his life but other things had become more of the moment

My interest in Lawrence arose from a vague feeling that we had similar personalities although our experiences, relationships and subsequent lives appeared to be very different. With the help of Professor Worthen at Nottingham University and his gift of an on line biography I find that there is more substance to my feeling which I now understand and appreciate.

John Worthen Professor of D H Lawrence studies at the University has published his biography at

http://www.nottingham.ac.uk/mss/collections/dhl-resources/biog-full/index.phtml.

As is my practice I am not altering what I have written before finding his biography and will signal where I do.

It was fortunate(fortuitous) that on Wednesday of last week the decision was taken to visit Eastwood in Derbyshire when it looked as if there would be no play on the first day of Durham‘s important County Championship game against Nottinghamshire, the subject of my next writing. In fact there was nearly a full day of play but no regrets at missing the cricket such was excellence of the visit.

There had been much rain the previous day and it was raining when setting off from the Service area Travel Lodge for the Forest, Park and Ride, with more rain along the way and upon arrival. I was therefore reminded of that dreadful day last year when I had set off for the cricket under a similar sky and had been forced to spend several hours sitting in car parks at Newark and Southwell hoping the torrent would stop. It did not, except briefly to visit the Minster, to visit a store and to go for a warm drink as well as the usual what‘s it. I should have planned better about alternative things to do and how to get to the different locations. As explained in the previous writing Tuesday was used to begin get the geography of Nottingham in relation to my place of stay and cricket ground into my head both using the car and the public transport system.

On the city centre walkabout I had visited the Tourist office and collected booklets on the Nottinghamshire essential guide 2009, Nottingham City Guide- where to shop and where to eat and What’s on June to September. Having decided there would be little or no cricket my first inclination was to visit the Museum of Nottingham Life at Brewhouse Yard which appears to be under the Castle walls. There was mention of the recreation of life in the 1920’s and relive World War 11 in a cave air raid shelter. However in the Nottinghamshire Days out guide the first place mentioned was Eastwood close to the Derbyshire border and this became the new destination for the morning.

This led to the discovery of the quick route from the motorway service area Travel Lodge to the Forest Park and Ride, alternatively the Phoenix or Wilkinson Street Park and Ride’s and to the Cricket as about a mile from Trowell services going northwards there is the junction with the A610 which goes within a mile or so of Forest to the east and close to Eastwood in the west. It was a good omen for what became a good and memorable day. The miserable day of a year before was quickly forgotten and as the morning progressed I thought back to an equally memorable experience, visiting Larne in South Wales where Dylan Thomas and his wife had managed to settle for a short while. The only similarly between the two couples is that both spent the great part of their relationship on the move, never having a place to call their own for long. I also remembered the one man show at the Playhouse theatre in which aspects of the life of the poet had been recounted and his work brought to life in a voice which had similarities to that of Thomas where I have a tape of him reciting. It is interesting though that the Wikipedia biography mentions that Dylan Thomas was an influence on the writings of Lawrence. I suspect there is more the collective subconscious and that the transmission through genes of knowledge and visual memory from our ancestors than I understand or fully appreciate, although I doubt if my father knew the work of DH Lawrence or Dylan Thomas at his seminary school in Malta or my mother in her convent school in Gibraltar or subsequently

Eastwood is pronounced Erswod in the distinctive local dialect and is a small town now of some 18000 about 8 miles from Nottingham centre (13k) and 10 miles from Derby. I still think in miles. It is a Domesday Book mentioned places which developed after coal became essential to the industrial revolution and in fact the Midland Railway was formed here, or should I say, there?

Moorgreen Colliery produced over 1 million tons of coal a year and Eastwood Hall was used as the Area office of the National Coal Board and was used for several crisis meetings during national miner’s strike which was at its height when I attended an International Management course at Henley and studied coal as part of devising a strategy for fuel in the 21st century. The evidence was that cheaper coal could be purchased from central Europe and given the long term harmful effects of coal mining on health, and the Communist control of the Union it was rational to have a strategy which provided for less dependency on home produced coal and switch to nuclear produced energy. There was no prospect of alternative energies being brought into meaningful production for 50 years, climate change or no climate change.

However there was the social and political dimension. I had made my name at the four week course by arranging with the college to hire a motorcycle rider to bring a letter from the Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher which asked the man appointed by the college to act as chief adviser to the government (a military man used to taking orders) that whatever the evidence British coal production had to continue at a level several times the rational economic projection. To sugar having to doctor his advice a peerage was hinted at which was unnecessary given his background, but I had put in to explain to some of the business executives that some of us who worked in local government knew more of how the system worked than they and that working behind the scenes was at times more effective that the upfront self publicists who were more easy to shoot at and bring down. The advice that had been given to me by a senior official of Home Office over lunch in Leeds before I became a chief officer had been well taken.

I had become interested in the special nature of coal mining communities since reading How Green was my Valley, a novel about a poor coal mining family in the South Wales coalfields, written in fact not my a man with roots in the community, but who had talked with the older generation of those who were alive when its author wrote and published the book in 1939. This aspect reinforces my view that it is often the outsider who can understand and comment with greater honesty. Not having read a biography based on his letters of which eight volumes have been edited and published I can only guess at the cause of his preoccupation with sexual orientation and activity and his need to be so explicit in his writings as my impression is that he made himself an outsider rather than being a natural one and that his preoccupation was rooted on his relationship with his mother and the relationship between his mother and father. She was and remained not just an outsider in the coal mining community but was the instigator of using family resources to get as far away as possible from the communal life of mining by moving home several times within the town where her husband worked down the pit.(since writing this I learn that they moved as much if not more before then)

My interest in mining communities and how they operated developed when spending a month in Scotland organising the final lap of the Holy Loch march and demonstrations and had been sent to the Court House in Edinburgh and then to the Headquarters of the Scottish Miner’s Union where I had passed over a cheque for several thousand pounds to Abe Moffat, then President of the Union where he and his brother was entertaining Pat Arrowsmith and the other core matchers to Malt whisky after being the first group to dare march down Princess Street, contrary to political orders from London. In those days Scotland was fiercely divided between Conservative and Labour left communities which had resulted in getting no cooperation from any official in Dumbarton, for example, but where the local police chief at Clydebank which borders the county capital asked how many of his officers I thought would be needed to stop all traffic and ensure the march passed without incident. Similarly local politicians at Gourock and Greenock ordered three of its most senior local government officers to meet me to establish which schools were to be used to feed and accommodate the marchers and supporters on the night before taking the MacBride Ferries to Dunoon and Holy Loch. The company had appreciated the commercial opportunity which the demonstration provided and had one of its busiest days. I mention this having heard a programme on Sunday while I travelled home where the MacBride ferries had managed to begin a Sunday service to outer Hebrides whose Calvinist community Lewis and Harris had prevented the change to maintain strict adherence to the Bible Sabbath, until this weekend.

In Fife the coal miners had gone some way to taking control of their community in a way which was closer to Trotsky’s vision of socialism that the fascist reality of Stalin. It is one of the ironies of the twentieth century that Britain joined forced with Stalin against Hitler despite the fact that Stalin did to his own people what the Germans and their Quisling’s did the Jewish and gypsy races. Such is the nature of war and of government

I mention all this because it is only until tourism replaced the industries of the industrial revolution did the good citizens of Eastwood appear to love D H Lawrence as much as they appear to do today and it is said that they were glad to see the back of when he ran off to Germany with his lover, rarely returning to England during the last two decades of his comparatively short life. At root is British ambivalence and hypocrisy about adult sexuality and which continues to result in Britain having more unwanted teenage pregnancies than any other “advanced” economic nation in the world. Part of the problem is that until the last ten years Britain did not like children and still hates teenagers. In fairness Eastwood is considered the first place in the UK to adopt the Boston approach with is pavement marked Freedom trail having a blue line to guide visitors to the 11 sites connected with DH Lawrence, and the University of Nottingham has developed a department concentrated on research and study into the life and works of a writer who is considered to have been crucial to the development of 20th century creative contemporary writing.

Of other notables who originated in Eastwood is one William A Pickering who was the effective controller of the Straits Settlement at a time when my maternal great grandfather was stationed and progressed back to being a Sargeant having been reduced to the ranks on court marshal while serving in Malta the home land for at least ten generations of my father. The Eastwood Colliers Male Voice Choirs is one the oldest surviving colliery choirs in the UK.

The key to understand D H Lawrence is that his mother a pupil teacher married someone described as a barely literate miner and which I suggests accounts for works such as the Virgin and Gypsy where the daughter of a vicar has a sexual encounter with an inarticulate married traveller and the fine married Lady Chatterley has several vividly described sexual encounters with a gamekeeper who i believe was also a man of few words. It could be argued that Lawrence was advocating that women should give way and enjoy their lust rather than marry someone otherwise incompatible and was therefore reproaching his mother, or perhaps his writing an running off with an educated woman of loose sexual morals was his way of expressing prolonged adolescent rebellion against her and realising that his father was in fact not a bad man. Mrs Lawrence appears to have never recovered from the financial disaster which father suffered and forced her and her sisters into the lace industry sweat shop. Marriage was her first escape route and with a strong religious based determination for self and family improvement she instilled love of good books as well as the drive to escape the everyday communality of mine work class life which is that much more intense than elsewhere in England although appears general in the Celtic based communities as I was to find when moving to a job which covered the Catholic tribal estates of Jarrow and Hebburn and were stronger than the coal miner estates of South Shields. His mother would have hated his writing and subsequent lifestyle.

It would be interesting to learn the discussion before the decision to rename his primary school, the Beauvale School the Greasley Beauvale D H Lawrence Primary School. Attached to former two up and two down house into which Lawrence was born is a small area used to show a ten minute video and where there is a graphic family history and a time line together with a poster on his work which includes images from his paintings consider pornographic in their day. The guide advised that although children visited the house as part of their understanding of how people lived at the end of the Victorian era they were not shown these images although one suspects that the older pupils have seen more graphic today. One wonders what the children are told about the person whose school has been renamed. Far from a school being renamed in middle America I assume his books are still being banned if not burnt. However it has to be said that many children in mining communities grew up with a clear understanding of the basics of humans sexuality at an early age and I encountered some horrific examples of the sexual abuse of children the Yorkshire mining community where I held a management position in the later 1960’s. In one notable instance the man had turned to his daughters with a degree of collusion from the mother who was relieved of her duties and one daughter had only shopped the man when he brought back drinking colleagues and offered her to them and to a younger sister

However these isolated cases should be viewed in the context that one third of the 140 people killed in one Durham mine in the days before the creation of the National Coal Board were aged between ten years and seventeen. Both were and remain unacceptable but there needs to be perspective and context.

A brave attempt has been made to fill the two up and two down home of his early years at Eastwood 8a Victoria Street with authentic period furniture for the lifestyle insisted upon by his mother who created lace which she put in her parlour window for sale display. A parlour reserved for important visitors. Even during the first years of the marriage when the five children were born, Lawrence was the fourth of three sons and two daughters, the family home had two additional spaces to those of most mine worker families. There was a spacious outhouse wash house and where no doubt Mr Lawrence was expected to wash down after a shift before entry into the home, and there was a substantial roof space with skylight which could have been used a sa bedroom. Although there is uncertainty about its condition and access during the period in 1880‘s when a family home. .

The first new knowledge as a consequence of reading the first chapter of the biography by Professor Worthen is that there were ten pits within walking distance of their home and that his father had three brothers also miners which suggests something of the fight his wife had towards keeping the family separate from the rest of mining community way of life. The chapter also explained that in fact they had moved to various mining villages where the best paid work was available before coming and settling in Eastwood. The financial disaster of the family is also explained as an industrial injury to her engine fitter husband who had been pensioned off and from whom she may gained the willingness to move to where the best paid work was and which would have made Norman Tebbit proud and her father had moved away from his family roots to Sheerness in Kent for the work which was to injure him. Given just how dangerous mining was at the time it is also understandable that she wanted her sons to do anything other than follow in their father’s footsteps. However it was the quickly deteriorating relationship between his mother and father that dominated the lives of the children and the evidence is that his mother poisoned his and his brother’s relationship and one presumes those of his sisters towards the father who appears content to have spent his evenings drinking with his workmates and only returning drink to insist on his marital rights. Professor Worthen is careful to present a balanced portrait of the husband who is not known to have walked out on the relationship and did not drink the family out of the basics of food and rent. Personally I have not time for anyone who criticises the lifestyle of anyone who spent their working life in dangerous and hot cramped conditions in prolonged physical activity a constant dusty atmosphere and then wanted to drink in the company of others who had undergone the same experience day after day, week after week, and year after year. This is why I shed no tear about the abolition of underground mining although I would not object to the conscripting of the bastard bankers and market speculators or putting them last in the queue for the Swine flu vaccinations along with the senior politicians and civil servants who went along with the fraud.

According to Professor Worthen the shop did not do well and he suggests Mrs Lawrence lacked the ability to sell the goods added to which must have been her unwillingness to accept let alone show respect to the miners and their ways. It would added insult to injury for Mrs Lawrence when they moved into a larger house but in a worse neighbourhood called the Breach when D H was two years of age and she would have fought all she could to move again.

D H, he was known as Bert after his middle name of Herbert, attended the Beauvale Board school from the age of seven until his thirteen year when he won a scholarship to Nottingham High School only the second son of miner to do so in the county and first from the school ever to go to the High School. He did so when the sons of miners at the school would have started down the pit or taken the first work available to them. It is my understanding that 1891 was also the year that the family moved to a lager house in Walker Street where Gavin Gillespie in his unique biography with photos

http://www.lawrenceseastwood.co.uk/ explains why the plaque in Walker Street is attached to the wrong house and should be next door and which is privately owned and occupied. There is the recreation of part of Beauvale class room at Durban House Heritage centre. This includes desks which open to reveal artefacts related to the Lawrence children. The small display makes the point that at the time learning was through listening and repetition.

The visit to Eastwood commenced with coffee at Durban House which was once the offices of the Barber, Walker Coal Company built in 1976. British Coal put the building up for auction in 1987 and was vandalised almost beyond repair until bought by the local authority in 1995 It was then fully restored by Broxtowe Council at a cost of £1 million and used to develop the connection with DH Lawrence who appears to have used the building as where Paul Morel went to collect his father‘s wages in Sons and Lovers. The display is part of the first floor which is shared with a photographic exhibition of people and places in Iceland. A major part of the ground floor is taken up with Coffee shop and restaurant which upon arrival was recovering from have been used a for a golden wedding party the previous evening and where the holding of special meals appears to form its essential income to offset the running costs of the project which is reported to cost the Council £150000 a year or approximately £5 per visitor. In February of this year the Council decided to reduce its funding by £60000. Given that the connection with DH and his family is limited and less than of 100 people a day are reported to visit continuation without additional funding support is questionable.

I was impressed by everything at Durban House and that a personal guide spent an hour with us touring the small centre at Victoria Street where as much was made of the space as buildings several times its area. I assumed there was close circuit TV at Durban House, but the guide was in part security at Victoria Street. My only regret is that the weather changed once more with heavy rain so the inclination was to find somewhere to park the car for the packed lunch rather than follow the trail further. However I believe I will return, more to show support that out of a burning urge to follow the rest of the trail.

Although D H won the scholarship he struggled at the High School and Professor Worthen describes him as even more as a fish out of water that at the Board school where he was bullied because he did not behave as a typical working class boy and preferred the company of girls.

The aspect which interests me most was his actual relationship with his mother. She obviously had a major influence on his life but did she express demonstrable affected and if not why not, born as he had been after she appears to have become disillusioned and antagonistic towards her husband. I will resist temptation go over my own upbringing in a working class household of a builder’s labourer by three sisters in two rooms one which was occupied by another sister who was deaf, dumb, blind and eventually bedridden from meningitis and fifth sister until she went for training a sa nurse and then contracted TB and was sent to a convalescent hospital where she died after refusing to have her operation. Although I had no father and was hidden from visiting members of the extended family and other refugees from the small community of Gibraltar I had good contact with my uncle and his youngest son and my mother was a distance figure who showed no positive feelings towards me but high behavioural standards based in fundamentalist and simple Catholicism. I was fortunate to attend a small private Catholic where I was picked on by the only working class lad but my educational roller coastal as due to being sickly for the greater part of one year and then being placed in the wrong year level and stream for my educational level having been made to undertake the same school year twice which was a humiliation and when despite moving from C to A stream over the course of the first year and taking the second stream form prize in the third year I never felt at home and missed out on having a single classmate from Wallington in any of the streams or years. Like D H I went to work at the age of sixteen and was as much a fish out of water there until I found channels for my creativity and imagination before after going to Ruskin College and the Oxford university experience, having chosen to go to prison as a civil offender rather than teacher training college at the age of twenty one.

It was illness which altered the life of DH first his own which led to his fist job at Haywood’s surgical factory in Nottingham as her son who ws working in London died within a day of her arrival to try and nurse him. It is recorded that she took little interest in the rest of her family after that and in fact it was a sister who was left to care for DH during his serious illness.

It was the move to Walker Street and mother’s devotion to chapel which was to have a profound influence on D H as the house overlooked the open countryside and Professor Worthen mentions his father would pick wild mushrooms on his way across the fields to work. His mother became friends with the wife of a farmer who attended the same chapel and she would have encouraged DH in his friendship with family and their youngest daughter Jessie who worshipped D H from meeting him. Despite the statement that his mother lost interest in her family it was she who was behind getting a place as pupil teacher establishment in Eastwood. D H would receive an hour’s teaching from the headmaster before school started, such was the impression made by DH with his application and natural intelligence. However it was the need to attend the pupil teacher centre at Ilkeston which brought him into contact with a wide range of others with a similar interests to himself. One cannot underestimate the value of such experience, especially if you feel and are told you are doing well. It was here that DH had contact with intellectually based socialists and free thinkers and found their views were similar to his own.

Jessie Chambers also attended the centre as did his youngest sister and his relationship with both, especially Jessie appears to contributed to the formation of his own creative voice The combination of experiences led him not just to sitting an examination to train as a certificated teacher but to be placed in the first class of the first division. He would attend University College in Nottingham but first he had to work full time as paid teacher at the Eastwood British Schools. It was during this time that he tried to write, poems at first and then a draft of what became the White Peacock.

Did he write letters during this time? Did ever write about his own adolescent development and sexual orientation. I read somewhere that he is reputed to have said an infatuation with a young 16 year old miner was the purist form of love he had experienced and one cannot but speculate that his writing about women as sex objects to essentially physically orientated working class men was in part to hide his own insecurity as a heterosexual male. However I have not read enough of his life and it is decades since reading any of his novels to make any judgements. I need to write about the cricket but will return to Lawrence if I can before the next travels and experiences. I need to make one further point to test further. It was evident from the visit to Durban House that Lawrence used not just his experiences of places in his writings but also his experience of relationships. This does not reflect a lack of imagination or creativity but the drive to express the truth, the reality of his experience. A local Mine owner was called Chatterley for example. However it is not possible to do this, to portray the truth even within a fictional setting without having an adverse effect on relationships with those living and even with those departed there is the likelihood of alienating some if not all of those who knew the individuals concerned, especially their family and friends.

I just also mention that rather than eat lunch in a rain drenched Eastwood car park i went off in search of the Shipley Country Park whose had been noticed on the way. However entering Shipley I had first noticed a small marker sign just after the car topped a hill but did notice an overgrown sign at the bottom of a wall intended for vehicles coming from the opposite direction. Both signs lead to an industrial area at the end of which is a 640 acre former colliery site which has become important open space with some 18 miles of paths and a number of lakes and ponds and major reservoir to one boundary. There is an interesting path called the trim track close to the main car park area and visitors sent which has been designed for elders to undertake light exercise in the open air. The visitors centre, education facility and cafe restaurants is also excellent. It is a gem of an open space and I forgive the locals for wanting to keep the facility for themselves. There was once a major country house within the grounds long since demolished and where the Squire’s lady ran off with the Earl of Shrewsbury.

1761 Nottingham City

Wednesday July 15th became D H Lawrence day when I had gone to considerable lengths to plan Durham at Nottingham cricket day. However as I cannot remember when I wrote my last chronicle of activity or what is was about I shall write first about what I now remember of the days leading up to D H Lawrence Day, Friday July 17th became Durham may have won the championship for the second year in succession day and again I will write about this before my trip to London.

This may prove to be one the most important weeks of my life to-date, or is just could be an extraordinary week.

For once I do not care that I might repeat what has been written before, albeit in a different perspective, or miss out on what was considered to be of interest and importance of the moment.

I have previous written in draft that the visit to the childhood home of D H Lawrence Day became a day I shall remember for ever more, similar to the visit to Larne and the cottage home of the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas. Cricket days, even exceptional ones become blurred because there is no visual specific memory attached to the emotional. Now three days after writing the above I have several visual memories of a cricket day.

Tuesday in Nottingham was a bonus having arrived a day earlier than planned because of going to the last day of the Durham at Yorkshire Cricket day. But I believe I need to go back even further before I can continue with my encounter with D H Lawrence at his birthplace home in Eastwood in the County of Derbyshire.

I begin with Sunday when I had to rise early to make readiness for the arrival of the new washing machine, scheduled to be delivered between 9.30 and 1.30, for the old machine to be removed and the new one connected. In order to be ready I had taken up the surrounding floor, something which in fact I need not have done once I had lifted the worktop, but it was better to have been well prepared than to risk some excuse that about not being able to do the job as has been the situation with a delivery once before. My first task in the morning was to move the car outside and park to ensure that the giant delivery vehicle would be able to come down the back lane and then clear all other possible obstructions or kitchen items which could get in the way.

I decided to do a good watering and checking of the plants as this would be the last occasion for a week. I then cleared the small area of concrete of the dead flowers at the front of the house. I must find out the name of the plants which has managed to find small growing point all along the front of the house between the wall and the concrete floor and similarly against the front wall to the pavement. The flowers are small purple ones which spread in sprays up to a foot in length and spread and spread once established. I did not do a proper job but cleared the unsightly dying or dead sprays, promising I would do a proper hands and knees job when I returned from the two trips to be made in quick succession.

When the washing machine had not arrived by 1pm I phoned and was told it was on its way. The large truck arrived around 2pm and the old machine was disconnected and taken into the vehicle and the new one brought in, connected and checked all within 15 mins at the most. My only complaint is that I was not given sufficient time to properly clean the floor under the old machine. It was also evident that I had not needed to have removed the over floor I had laid which suck love care and which had required some skill. I know I have just said this before but it is worth repeating once more.

I paid a quick visit to the supermarket for rolls, milk, more salami and pastries. Perhaps I had acquired the extra salami before. I had watched the start of the German Grand Prix and the end. Then it was England’s fight to prevent Australia winning the first Test at Cardiff. I have been critical of Paul Collingwood both in relation to his contribution to Durham over the past three years and this year for England. However on Sunday he established himself as a living legend with his defensive innings while all the other batsmen failed. Panesar whose batting buddy is Collingwood played like an opening bat set on defensiveness and saw the match end in a draw to the ecstasy of the crowd who cheered loudly every ball he played. It was then time to prepared for the week ahead. I decided a dozen shirts half long sleeved such was the uncertainty of the weather. I would leave the buttering of rolls until the morning.

On Monday the journey to the Yorkshire cricket ground was much better all round and I arrived in good time and car parking space on the main road a few yards across from the entrance. Durham batted until lunch time making defeat not an option for them and setting Yorks to get 275 off runs in some 50 overs. There was never any prospect of the home side gaining the momentum to achieve this total as wickets commenced to fall with Ian Blackwell outstanding with only 23 runs conceded from 22 overs and taking two of the four wickets which fell, and Plunket the other two. The match ended in a draw although Durham came close to taking two more wickets despite the resolve of the Yorkshire batsmen. I thought that overall a draw was a fair outcome although with poor bonus points, Nottinghamshire with two games in hand remained in the driving seat for the championship although the points achieved gap favoured Durham. This made the contest at Nottingham even more significant although with a poor weather forecast another draw looked the likely outcome.

I did consider stopping for a hot meal on the way but decided to get on my way, going back to the ring road and then joining M1 extension going south. As I approached the service area at Nottingham the lightening had been a great flash illuminating the whole sky rather than shafts that had been experienced at the riverside two weeks before. The weather forecast had been better than this.

I decided to use the early part of Tuesday to begin an orientation of the routes into Nottingham from the motorway service area and across to Mansfield, Newark and Southwell. I also wanted to investigate the park and ride system in relation to the motorway, the city centre and the bus system.

I will report now the outcome of the explorations by car, tram and bus conducted over past three days, with the visit to the birthplace of D H Lawrence crucial in finding the best way in and out of Nottingham

The Service area motel is on the M1 going North and as with all service area and Travel Lodge accommodations beside major roadways there is a way across to the other side with is not open to the general public but which can also be used by emergency service vehicles as well as motorway staff in addition to Motel guests. It is important to have a good sense of direction using these cross over points because they are usually just unlit small country lanes.

To get to Mansfield and across to Southwell and Newark the best route is to continue up to the next major junction. However the important discovery was to also go north for about a mile until reaching the A610 which takes one towards Eastwood in Derbyshire or into Nottingham where it is under three miles to the Forest Park and Ride. There are two other Park and Ride stations before then, Phoenix is the stop to which three out of four trams stop and then return back to the Station road, adjacent the main line station in the city. There is a further stop to Hucknall a community where Byron is buried and where there is a cinema exhibition about his life and the centre of international festivals about his life and work. I have not visited Phoenix although I may do so on Friday or Saturday if the match continues into a fourth day. I did visit Wilkinson Street unintentionally when I could not find the Forest. To explain why I have to record that until discovering the 610 route, I would cross over to the going south route on the motorway travel to the next junction a distance of several miles maybe four to five and go on to the Nottingham Road at section which has been renamed the Brian Clough Way as Brian brought footballing success to both Derby first and then Notts Forest and where his son is the present manager at Derby and only in the last year or so a statue of Brian unveiled in the city centre of Nottingham.

From this junction it is at least five miles before reaching the Nottingham ring road where in the past I have either crossed and continue into the city to railway station and continue to the Bridge over the River Trent hence Trent Bridge, along which is the Trent Bridge Cricket ground and a short distance away from the Nottingham Forest Football club. Nottingham has a second football club as does Sheffield United and the City. Here I parked among the large private houses and multi occupational dwellings often used by students at the universities in West Bridgeford. I have also used the ring road which coaches and travellers from the north are encouraged to use and which come to the two grounds from the west and where there is also a park and ride scheme. From here there is a fast bus into the city but the geography of the park and ride, the river Trent and the two grounds means that one has in effect to go into the city getting off at the station in order to get a bus back to the grounds.

It is possible to reach the Forest Park and Ride from the Derby road which has to be continued on reaching the ring road but after continuing for between a mile and two it is necessary to take a sharp left at traffic lights where there are no signs to point the way. This brings one into Lenton Boulevard and then onto a second Boulevard. These are tree lines road forming a canopy across the road in one instance but they are as far removed from the boulevards of Paris as one can get, and for part along this way the environment is distinctly grotty, in decline and a Mecca for the social and economic underclass of the city. Having now used Park and Ride several times I can report it is very successful and used by those relying exclusively on public transport as well by those bringing cars into the city.

The approach is one of saturation coverage so that if one takes the area between the Old Market Place and Trent Bridge there are about 12 twelve buses which stop at three different places close to the ground- The Radcliffe Road end which is the first main road turning along the ground where ones comes to after crossing the Trent Bridge and there are places to eat from a greasy spoon café, a fish and chip takeaway, and two trendy bar restaurants, one which I tried early evening only to find that the restaurant tables were being cleared for the evening to enable a Salsa class to take place. The bar had all the ingredients for trying to maintain trade. It functions as a sports bar which will be popular on days when the football club has home games or those wanting to drink outside the cricket club at lunch or before going home in the evening. The Salsa class and the layout is designed to attract the students and young people living in the area. It is also somewhere for lunch with a limited menu. It is located in the area of two large county hall buildings, one inside the cricket ground and the other serving the wide area around Nottingham on this side of the city. The city has its own service buildings and the county contributes towards the cost of running the Metro system which means that county residents with concessions can use the system for free whereas I had to pay £2.70 for an unlimited day ticket, £1.50 per single journey, the same price as adults. For an extra 30 pence there is unlimited travel on buses within the city but I have the national bus pass which saved the few pence a day.

As I was saying when I diverted myself there are three green line stops by the ground. The second is a stop on the next main road parallel to the Radcliffe Road where the stop is by the William Clark Stand. Here because of the new main stand along Radcliffe Road. There is the loss of several hundred seats in the corner as the new stand obscures a major part of the playing surface view.

There is also a third stop continuing along the road from the Bridge. The buses then continue to some different destinations. Between the Old Market Square area where some have stops and Trent Bridge, they all take different routes around the city although they all pass the main station at one point or go close to the Old Lace market and the entertainment zone comprising two adjacent theatres and cinema complex with a dozen main brand restaurants. There is a poorer housing estate between the Station, the Canal, the river and the sports grounds which green line buses appear to traverse street by street. Some of the Green line buses are signed from A place to B place while others offer Loops and therefore one has to look at the side for where the main stopping points are listed. There are four of five different colour systems for the routes into and through the city plus a system of fast buses and special buses for special events such as the Robin Hood festival or the recent 20 20 Cricket World Cup.

I acquired the information over the first three days of the cricket and from a morning and afternoon getting the geography fixed in my head. I did not find the Forest Park and Ride at Ride at the first attempt continuing on the A 52 Derby road into the city until realising I had missed the turn north and not knowing which one to take. I had then gone back to the ring road and followed the Park and Ride sign to the Wilkinson Street Park and Ride and then followed the tram lines to find the Forest which is close by. I have been to the Forest space several years before, two decades at least where the Nottingham Ice Skaters Torvil and Dean had performed their winning Olympic Ice Dance routine in a specially created large Marquee. They have been seen first at the Wembley arena in North London and then had made the day return trip for the Nottingham show. Now there is an International Ice centre in the city where World class events can be held. Nowadays though most of the city arenas can be converted for ice shows and ice hockey as well as basketball and major performance area shows such as the age of dinosaurs.

I took the tram into the city on that first morning to the terminus and where it is necessary to go down a life and take a short walk to the main road alongside the main station to catch a bus to Trent Bridge. It was after taking the bus back into the city centre that I realised it was better to get off the tram at Old Market Square and catch green line from there. I had there walk about the city centre realising that it is a large city but without appearing to have a defining city centre character. It a functional city rather than a historical one. Next to the older theatre there is a new concert hall where rather than music music such as the Sage in Newcastle there was a performance of the music show Chicago this week which also suggested that the city’s theatre was not big enough to take the internationally designed music and dance shows, including operas. I had already been on the Cineworld complex across the road the previous year for the live opera relay of Madam Butterfly from the New York Metropolitan. I had not been impressed by the quality of the food served at the Bella Pasta which has an entrance within the complex. There is also eat as much as you want East West restaurant offering £5.50 buffet style dishes during the day to early evening and then the same as significantly higher price in the evenings. The problem with these appetizing places is that one is inclined to gorge oneself faced with a choice of 100 dishes. Moreover there must be concern about the fact that the food is cooked at best early morning and then kept warm through hot place until consumed with I suggest could be several days in some instances. But they are very popular and reasonably price. Out side all around this area there are the brand restaurants. They all offer the same atmosphere served by young people with little commitment to the food but competitive over winning customer support for large tips and at basic prices which is not justified by the actual food. On my walkabout I did find a few 2 for 1 price pubs or those offering a small range of reasonably price meals where the food was as good if not better for half the price. There was also a Pizza restaurant where from four pm one could get a pizza pasta for about £4. I did find a French restaurant which did appear to serve authentic food and offered a two course pre theatre meal at a reasonable price. Talking of food, later in the evening I had enjoyed a chicken and bacon salad with a baguette after returning to the motel to change my shirt having spilt coffee.

I concluded that the city centre has a prosperous feel and there are several major residential areas. The development of two universities, Nottingham and Trent has had major impact on the city as it has on all cities in he United Kingdom. There are also areas of decline with boarded up shops, former industrial and commercial premises and individuals struggling. Nottinghamshire along with Derbyshire were coalmining counties who rebelled against the Communist Arthur Scargill miner’s leader and formed a new union of democratic miners in the mid 1980s for which miners in other areas , the North East, Wales and Scotland have never forgiven. Local post war politics has been dominated by the Labour Party and Trade unionism until the last decade when the Tory party has become powerful again in the Local government. You get this sense of the marrying of two cultures throughout the city.

1752 For Northumbrian towns on a hot day

And so Thursday July 2nd, Mediterranean Hot reached the North East and enveloped Tyneside for twelve hours of the day. It was the kind of day to inspire into action and not the day to stay inside pretending it was just another day. It was a day which reminded of why I had once wanted to create a new life in a climate where such days are the norm. Unfortunately the weather forecast for us was that heavy rain would following during Friday. I was uncertain how to enjoy this reminder of what might have been

It was not until 11 am that I ventured out deciding to take fitness walk but accepting my age and condition sufficiently to take the car down the hill and parking just before Ocean Road. I went down to the front to look at where the Council is proposing to build a new swimming pool. There was no estimate of when it would be completed but hopefully I will live to see it finished and in a physical condition to use. There will be no excuse then although I assume that during weekdays especially in term time there will be school parties and it will be necessary to get up early or go late afternoon or early evening. I still have to lose another stone before considering such activity.

The new Italian Restaurant appears to have become established as it remains open until late at night. It offers a three course lunch for just under £8 which includes a choice of any Pizza or past on the menu with prices around £7 to £8 which means that one gets a limited choice of special starters. and ice cream or coffee for free. Then there is usually a drink to start with, so call it £10 a person. I wondered how many takers they have. However it compares favourably with the pubs offering two main courses for between £7 and £9, because if you add a starter drink, a food starter and pudding or coffee to finish the final tally will be closer to £10 than the£5 I used to pay when I eat out regularly at midday several times a week between twenty and ten years ago.
I climbed the sand dune behind Dunes, well the link was with Las Vegas, but it is a good dune giving a different perspective on the Bay as from the Hill the view is obscured by the trees in the parks. There was a refreshing strong breeze coming off the sea and one longer for many more such days, although my on going work would be more seriously affected than it has been since taking the decision to make my seventieth a different experience from the sixty nine beforehand, and if possible sufficiently memorable to help me through the ordeals and processes of increasing old age.

As I walked down the other side of the dune I re-jigged what had been in my mind when I set off and walked as far as the Amphitheatre. If the weather held I would attend the first free evening gig of the year having missed all the eight held during June for one reason or another. I walked back though the park commenting to myself that the Council had made a mistake in not recreating a Victorian tea room to replace the popular facility which had existed before, no doubt under pressure from the nearby outlets on the sea front who wanted the custom.

I was home just after midday and checked the score at Durham. As I had anticipated Worcestershire had not collapsed in the same way as Durham and the match was likely to go into its fourth day. I had a lunch of smoked mackerel salad with the rest of the cherries and checked the score at the midday interval 60 for 2 and judged that my assumption of a fourth day was accurate. I would go on an explore into Northumberland in search of Wilkinson stores and black display folders and found the locations of three others at Cramlington, Ashington and Blyth to that at North Tyneside where I knew where it was located from having gone in search of a cup of tea on a previous explore of the town centre.

In forty years I have previously driven through Ashington once. This is a medium size town of under 30000 people situation three miles from the coast and was once the heart of the Northumberland coalfields. It still regards itself as a village with its own dialect which is a variant of Geordie and Mackem

It is also the birthplace of a number of internationally known professional footballers who all played for the Ashington Football Club. The best known are the Charlton Brothers of Bobby and Jackie. Bobby survived the Munich air crash and went on to play for England and become the ambassador of British Football and his beloved Manchester United. Jackie made his name at Leeds had less of an international career as a player but went onto manage both Newcastle and Middlesborough and the Northern Ireland National side. Both players were part of the 1966 successful World Cup squad.

In Ashington’s pedestrian town centre there is a statue of one footballer, Wor Jackie Milburn who scored 238 goals for Newcastle, a club record to this day. Others includes Peter Ramage who also played for Newcastle but has since moved to a London Club in a lower division. The two present day outstanding sportsmen are Cricketers, former World number one fast Bowler Steve Harmison and his brother Ben were also born in the town. The Former owner of Newcastle who built the largest indoor shopping mall at Gateshead, the Metro centre and developed St James Park into the present stadium Sir John Hall was also born in the town. I once took a party of Councillors from Wuppertal to meet Sir John and tour the Metro Centre. He spent an hour explaining the importance of the centre to the North East. I had told him in advance that their Council had voted to prevent a shopping centre in or near their town. I then met his son and son in law for a drink while the visitors went shopping. Among others from the town was the first head of Scotland Yard’s bomb squad, an astrologer, an opera singer and an author and architect.

Ashington survives but it still has the look of a town with a past rather than a future. There are approved plans for an open cast coal field outside the town with will provide 60 jobs where once thousands were employed in the central coalmines and those in neighbouring communities such as Ellington, Linton. Woodhorn and, North Seaton. I found the car park tucked away at one end of the high street behind the now closed and grim looking building which was once converted into a Netto supermarket but had a prior history lost except to the oldies none of whom were about so I could ask. Wilkinson is located at the other end of the High Street in a new building close to the railway station which is now only used for freight trains. It is sad but Ashington is not a place anyone would chose live or even visit. You received an education which hopefully took you away from the pit and to Newcastle, or down south or across the world. It is not surprising that there was also the emphasis on sport. Another outlet used to be painting as a hobby and the work of Ashington Pitmen Painters has become internationally known.

Whereas Ashington is struggling to survive, Blyth about he same distance from Newcastle as South Shields presents a very different face. Yet Like Ashington it was once the centre for coal mining, the transport of coal, ship building larger than on the Tyne or Wear. and fishing and is located on the river Blyth as it reaches the North East Sea. It is medium size town with around 35000 yet as a superior shopping centre to South Shields over twice its size. While there were some shuttered establishments in side streets the feel of the town centre is very different and this is also reflected by the port remaining in use bringing in pulp from Scandinavia for the newspaper industry. The Quay area had been developed with new buildings and sculptures and a wind farm of nine turbines. However a large number of resident now work on North Tyneside and Newcastle to use the tunnel to the South Tyneside and Sunderland. A superficial reaction but I immediately had the sense of a town with a future and an identity fit for the 21st century.

In between these two towns is Cramlington, a new town created around a former village. It is an artificial community bland without character. The town is bigger than either Ashington or Blyth and comprising large wide avenues of new semi detached and detached housing around a functional indoor shopping centre. There are several large industrial zone separate from the housing with an emphasis on pharmaceuticals. It gives the impression of being a model town for the 21st century, souless, colourless, cultureless.

As for the purpose of the visits, Cramlington provide four black display folders and Ashington 3 whereas Blyth had only one green 40 page folder in stock. The reason why none of the stores has ordered more of the 40 page volumes is that no one is buying the 20 page and all the stores have two or three boxes of these and obviously hope once the 40 page editions have sold out people will take the 20 page size.

The treat of the afternoon was to visit Newbiggin by the sea, an attractive town with straddles a large bay Although once a small port for shipping grain and for coal mining reflected in some of the housing away from the high street, the atmosphere is very different from the others town visited. It is in fact a large village with a population of around 7000. I parked at the far end of the main road which ends at two car parks and the church. One belongs to the golf club and the second is public and free and headland to a grass covered headland with a stone monument created for the millennium under which there is a time capsule containing creations by local school children. From here you have a commanding view of the bay and its fine sands. The sand is new as the former beach eroded and £10million of new sand had to be imported with additional works to prevent further erosion. On this warm day the bay was a splendid sight. There is none of the usual seaside attractions here. The Parish church is imposing and originates from the 14 century. There is small heritage centre nearby. John Braine the author of Room and Life at the top wrote his first novel while working here at Newbiggin public library 1954-1956.

Looking at the time I decided I would not attempt to go to North Shields where I knew parking would be a problem and head for the Tyne Tunnel before the rush hour. I was tired on returning home but resisted sleep listening to the Worcester radio commentary on the game at the Riverside. Durham had bowled out Worcestershire for a lower total than anticipated and pressed ahead with scoring runs in their second innings closing the day with 120 odd runs to win and 9 wickets in tact. It was then I remembered that it was Thursday and there was a concert at the amphitheatre and the sun was still shinning.

I made an evening meal of salmon fish fingers and mixed beans in tomato sauce and then took the car to the sea front to find somewhere to park. It was very busy with a constant stream of traffic in both directions along the sea front and similarly pedestrians. mainly young. I found a space on the road itself before realising that the charge was 1 pence a minute or 90 pence until the free time from 8.30. I went on to the public car park at the Sanddancer but it was full so made an exit and came back around the roundabout and on to the parking area on the grass on the other side of the roadway. I parked opposite Minchella’s and the show off motorcyclists and went off to investigate the parking charges at the only ticket machine at the entrance tot he site which extend the length of the fromt from the caravan and camping site to the Gypsy Green stadium. The charge is 70p a hour or £2.30 all day which is very reasonable. There was a stiff cool breeze and although still warm from the evening sunshine I chose to remain in the car with the windows open listening to the music, although shortly after eight I closed the one on my side of the car which gave the best of both worlds, warmth and the music from the passenger side window.

There were about thirty five motorcycles when I arrived and this increased to fifty at one point with constant comings and goings and around 100 calling during my period of stay. It was difficult to work why they went coming and going with some only stay for a short while after finding who was there and exchanging a few words. What was interesting is that no one paid for parking and only some joined the queues for service from the cafe.

There were two bands. The First Eureka machine was formed in 1972 and is Leeds based, playing a traditional form of hard rock. I rate them as OK. I have been unable to find out about Mugshots the second band of the evening. I did prefer their sound better but around 8.30 I grew tired and returned. I was in bed by 10pm and went immediately to sleep.