Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Down memory lane with Gina...
Firstly I will apologise for not sending a blog last week. I did write one, but as it came from "the heart" and could leave me feeling slightly vulnerable I decided not to send it. I do have a soft side, which, for my own reasons, I try to keep hidden. Also I have recently discovered there are people reading these entries that never comment but enjoy reading my open, honest and sometimes outrageous stuff, then tease me about it. So here is an edited version of last weeks entry, without, I hope, too many sentimental bits:-
Saturday 2/7/05, finished work at 2.30pm, filled up with petrol, checked the tyre pressure and started my journey north up the A1 for approximately 230 miles. I was going to visit a friend, and also I was returning to the area where my dad was born, and where he spent most his childhood, until he headed south to Bedford, where he worked at RAF Henlow as a Military Policeman. This was short lived as soon after arriving here and marrying, he spent 18 months in hospital recovering from TB(a subject he would never ever talk about).
The A1 is a fantastic road now, but I still had memories of making this journey when I was young, 6 of us in a car, the 4 children in the back all wanting to sit by the window, the numerous stops because one of us was feeling unwell. It would take hours to complete, it was a trip non of us really enjoyed, but the end result was always worthwhile.
As I travelled further north, I didn't recognise many of the place names, then I saw the sign for Scotch Corner. As I child this was very significant, it meant that we were nearly "home". Of course it was not my home, but it was home for my dad and his mum(a formidable character, who worked for the NHS as a family planning adviser. I now wonder how effective she would have been, because believe me, she was a really scary lady).
I had the most fantastic weekend, I was totally pampered and spoilt, the weather was great, the deserted beach at South Shields(I suppose most beaches are deserted at 8am). Newcastle is superb with it's fab quay side, full of coffee shops and up market apartments, the Millenium footbridge(very memorable for me as I have always had a bit of a phobia about footbridges), it's all a far cry from the bleak place I though I could remember, it's now a really happening place.
So this summer(invite or not) I will be travelling north again, with my 7yr old. I'm going to visit my old house, the farm and school(I spoke about these in a previous blog entry), also my nan's house(which she lived in for as long as I can remember) I can almost picture it, It's a typical council semi on a typical council estate. I'm sure 7yr old will be asking why, when, who for most of the trip, but I really would like him to visit an area that clearly still means a lot to me, why, I'm not sure, maybe I am getting very sentimental in my old age!
If this is my attempt at cutting out the sentimental bits, than I'm glad I chose not to post last weeks entry. Just think, the alternative blog this week, was to relay a very amusing story about a friend who tried a different method of waxing her bikini line. I really liked her partners helpful remark at the end of the experience "did you read the instructions". The things us girls have to do just to go swimming. Of course there is another friend who refused to go on a date because she could not be bothered to shave her legs. Was she planning to have more than a drink or two?
Posted by piddy77 at 5:24 PM