She would walk 84 miles and she would walk 84 more

 

It's not all about me in these posts although I like it that way as I'm sure you do. This time, I'm going to blog about the Mrs who has undergone a huge achievement. Along with her sisters, she was determined many months ago to walk 84 miles across the width of Britain, following Hadrian's wall. Not to be taken lightly, as some people do and end up dropping out (1 sister down after 1 day), she trained every week walking with a heavy backpack, filled with stilettos, handbags, chocolate and a big photo of me.

During the training her toenail came loose and was hanging on by a slither. I joined her on an 18 mile walk, she set a canny pace for an old man like me with a plastic hip. Other various leg related injuries and physio sessions later she was ready to go, excited, apprehensive and nervous about putting in the mileage in those stilettos. The trip was over 4 days, staying at various bunk houses. They met people on the way who were lazy, doing it over 6 days, and getting all their bags carried by a nice big van. They were southerners though; all the gear, no idea.

And my job in all this? To simply take down a tent on the last day and take a bit of food for their journey from Harlow Hill. It took me 40 minutes to drive there, it took the girls 7½ hours to get back. 18½ miles, that is good going.

It was awesome to see her at the end of the wall (Wallsend - so aptly named) coming round the corner with her two sticks, tanned face and forced smile, not looking a day over 30. It was extremely tough, exhausting and such an amazing achievement. No doubt she is planning the next one, just as she is now resting after catching an infection in her toe and foot!

She's 30, you really wouldn't think it but she's 30

We couldn't have asked for a better day for the Mrs' 30th Birthday the other week. I've just got round to blogging it now after preparing 3 types of home made burgers, curry pies, Cumberland pies, corned beef pies, la la la. The sun shone on the beach with views of the castle, pier and sea, which was great seen as it was a beach party with a man size BBQ, a bouncy castle, music, pimms and friends and family.




The star of the show knocked me out on how gorgeous she looked and managed to get loads of presents some of which we are still drinking. We got snapped together in some unusual poses as the party moved indoors.

It was difficult to get up at 7AM and go tidy Tynemouth Rowing Club where it all kicked off but it was so worth it. This was the day of Andrea's birthday so the sun shone again and we had a few more beers along the Newcastle Quayside just to top up the alcohol.

What a Burke and what a Knight we had Scouting For Girls

We now feel like regulars to the Mouth of The Tyne Festival. Last year the highlights were the concerts from James Morrison and The Lightning Seeds. This year we got to see 2 hot looking ladies. Yes, that's right French & Saunders. Nah, it was Alexander Burke and Beverly Knight (not pictured in the foreground), but from a distance you could confuse them I suppose. Actually we were fairly close to the stage. I was more impressed with Beverly Knight, she has a great soul voice and puts on a good show.

Scouting for Girls headlined the second night and they were brilliant, better than I expected. Anyone who throws massive beach balls into the crowd gets my vote though. There might've been some rain but when you've got a beer, a picnic, a view of the sea and a sexy poncho it doesn't matter.

The street entertainment was unusual as always, some strange looking creatures which seemed to frigthen the kids more than Roy Cropper would. I wanted one to come over to me while I sipped my lemonade just so I could whisper in its ear: "What's with the long neck, do your feet smell?"

Sand dancers don't dance but they do make you laugh

South Shields continues with its famous stars. I predicted way back in 2008 that Sarah Millican would make it big and I don't mean her cake shelf. She's risen from local star to TV panelist appearing on shows such as Mock The Week, 8 Out of 10 Cats and with Lee Mack, Frank Skinner and Michael McIntyre. I'm told she's even a regular on the man-eating show Loose Women where they laugh at the size of men's willies and that. We've been to see her 3 times over the past few years, but this time it was the turn for Chris Ramsey, the next South Shields comedian.

He'd come back to his home town at The Customs House to do a gig and most of his school class turned up as he chatted and made some pretty funny comments at the start of his show. I wasn't expecting him to be that good, but his 2nd half was brilliant. It's the show he's taking to the Edinburgh Fringe, called Offermation. It's basically about crap pointless information that people insist on giving you. Right up my street. There's a great twist at the end of the show, very well written and performed. The laughs were all there and I didn't say a word.

So hopefully Chris is also set for stardom, just to take the pressure off little camp Joe McElderry.

Get your ramekins out

Nice to see that NewcastleGateshead are still making an effort with their EAT Food Festival. This year we decided to go to the Launch Party to see what it was all about. It was fairly mediocre really, a free drink or two, free food cooked by the local Masterchef Pro finalists and an over excited orange Geordie compare. The BBQ wasn't working properly and I wasn't convinced my pork sausage was cooked so I left for the dogs of Newcastle. Not what you expect at the start of a food festival. However, a few cocktails, a good band and liquorice ice cream later it was time to go and take a piece of the huge cake left for the party go-ers.

The highlight for me was the following day. We got to cook with Terry Laybourne, the local chef and entrepreneur. He was a canny bloke, down to earth. We cooked cheese & spinach souffle in the middle of Fenwick store. I enjoyed seeing old ladies with puzzled faces as I whisked my egg whites, wearing a pinny, sticking my tongue out. We got to eat the souffle, served with cream, light and fluffy, just like my feet.

The glasses got hitched

Luckily after the stag weekend in Glasgow, the wedding was still going ahead and it was wedding fever weekend as the Royal Wedding was the day before. Andy & Helen decided to get hitched in Edinburgh where the sun shone brightly all day. As Best Man, my duties were simply to make sure Andy had clean underpants on, was sober enough to slur 'I do', his glasses were on straight and I held onto his ring. Speaking of holding rings, it was appropriate as the bride decided to give Andy a scare by being 45 mins late, a problem with the dress they say, but I think the modern way now is for the bride to go off to the pub or hot dog van before the ceremony. (In Australia, we caught a bride doing exactly that!)

The speeches all went down well at Norton House Hotel after spending time outside in the bright sunshine drinking Pimms and listening to the harpist. Andy had even asked me to do a quiz in keeping with the horse racing theme. Great idea. There was some serious contestants wanting to do anything to win.

We all had a great day and I reckon the bride and groom did. I can't believe I spotted how much the groom looked like Harry Potter in his younger days from the photos on the wall. Some great touches too, especially the post box with my nickname on it, the life-like cake decorations and the fireworks!

Of course those Harry Potter glasses came out again during the party night, they get you noticed. Here are me and the boys with the perfect geek-chick-freak look.

So congratulations to the married couple, A & H. May the marriage flourish. One bit of advice to Andy: When you make love, make sure you talk to eachother.....as long as there is a phone handy ;)

Public whipping

The last time I visited Glasgow was for my birthday but I looked forward to going again to be best man for my round-glassed mate Andy and make him safe during his stag do. Not much planning needed from me really as the groom with the clipboard and military itinerary had everything under control, even the statistics of preferred lap-dancers.

Off the train, to the hotel to change into our costumes which consisted of fruit-pastel coloured jockey T-Shirts and hats. It felt good to look ridiculous since the last time I dressed up but I was glad I wasn't the groom as he had the full jockey outfit on including whip and boots. I'm pretty sure he already had the whip and boots, he seemed so comfortable in them. A confident man in boots. I suppose anyone carrying a whip will have confidence, even his walk was very much in the style of a man with a purpose.

So in all our glory we trotted off to Ayr races to win absolutely bot-all on the horses. It didn't matter as it was such a good laugh, becoming the centre of attraction for all the ladies wishing to get their photos taken and caress Andy's whip. It's amazing how those ladies managed to actually look more like the horses than the horses running.

A few drinks later it was time to go straight to the Glasgow night life and see if we could understand any Scottish accents at the Comedy Club. The Scottish accent is just one big blur and even more so under the influence so most people resorted to sign-language and shouting. Infact some people from other groups did a lot of shouting and talking during the comedian performances. They were slowly told to leave over a period of about an hour through heckling and basic put downs from the stand up. We all agreed they were arseholes by clapping them out of the venue.

Without the costumes this time we still got noticed. It must have been the 15 jam-jar glasses we all wore. Towards the end of the night things seemed much easier in those glasses, the world made more sense. Passers-by didn't judge you for looking disabled. I put this down to the fact that a lot of hard-nosed Glaswegians do actually look retarded. For that reason I felt as comfortable as Andy did wearing his long black slender boots.

Overall a great time and great way to celebrate. Being best man meant I could call all the shots though I'm not one to make a fool of the groom, he managed that himself.