Location
Where you live has never become so important over the last few months with the changes in our life. The good weather makes you appreciate your location even more. Like you would on holiday, you can take yourself and all off to the beach and get there in about 2 minutes. With a babba on a trike, an old man like me pushing it in flip-flops with the Mrs in tow making sure her massive sunglasses don't slip off. It's a sight to see, the locals can look like tourists.
Vocation
Some people have seized the moment well. What with the rising attraction of beach life and street food, Riley's Fish Shack have brought the two together. He basically sets up at King Edward's Bay and cooks local fish on his large BBQ. We tried a salmon wrap, it was delicious. We ate it while we watched a Karate group practise on the beach. Now you don't see that often.
Vacation
So all of this good weather and our location have made it feel like we are on holiday. The sun shines, the sea is clear and green, the temperature rises, drinks in the village or city (see that lush lass in the photo). Sometimes you even get the smell of bins and a fat Geordie with a tattoo spelt backwards. Like on holiday, you learn to hold your nose or turn your head and just get on with stuffing your face with chips, ice-creams and wraps and then realise that you are also a fat Geordie on holiday.
As a child I remember being on holiday in France. Fourteen of us travelled there in a mini-bus driven alternatively by the father's of three family's from the neighbourhood. That's in the days of proper neighbourhood community and no air-conditioning; kid's today don't know they're born. Anyway, the point of telling you this is that it reminded me of lots of BBQ's while we stayed in the caravan/tent. Trying to catch lizards and put them on the BBQ but not achieving it because they shed their tails when you stamp on them. However, after becoming bored of blowing up ant nests with little bangers (you could buy these!), we moved onto catching beetles and cockroaches and roasting them on the BBQ. Cockroaches stink by the way.
Now that our own summer has arrived here and all those fond memories sweep through my mind, we have our own version of BBQ's and Beetles. How wonderful it is to do everything alfresco (careful). The smell and sound of sizzling food. The urge to pop a few beetles on there to see what they smell like when hot. If you want a change from burgers and sausage, get some monkfish, marinade it with chillies, garlic, limes and coriander and slide it onto some skewers while you look at the camera pouting your lips. It's an absolute treat; the food, not the camera shot.
OK so I've mentioned beetles a few times and you can't see the relevance. The Tynemouth Classic VW Rally is in its 3rd year now. Blessed by the great weather again, we went along to view the shiny camper vans and beetles. So many colours, styles and interior space saving genius. We all want one, you see a lot living on the coast but don't get sick of them until you get stuck behind a slow one. They ended the rally by driving in convoy along the coast. On the day of the Sunderland Air Show, I expected the red arrows to fly over just at that point and maybe create a VW shape in the sky. They missed an opportunity but to be fair they probably flew over the Newcastle race course where it was also Ladies Day. Pervert Pilots.
By the title of this post, you may have got here by either googling "I'm a single depressed woman, drinking gin" or "I'm new to dogging" or even 'Hi, I'm George Michael'. If you are one of those, you will be disappointed by the post so you might want to hit the back button.
I'm talking about the picture of that sad lonely, so-called BBQ. We went along to Centre Parcs again for our first real family holiday. Alongside the cabin you have your own patio and BBQ area. It's not a real man's BBQ though. Ruled by the Health and Safety laws we now operate in, you have to buy an actual disposable BBQ to put on top of the non-purpose fake built in BBQ. Hilarious. Suppose it stops the possibility of a massive fire that would probably rip through the whole forest and burn everything from red squirrels to oversized-greedy-fat-people-who-are-there-to-convince-themselves-it-is-an-active-holiday.
Aside from this observation, we all had a great holiday especially the little one who just loved being pulled in a trailer everywhere by my bike. The cabin was spotless, sunshine was there most days and the food was incredible (self-catered). It's the second visit to Centre Parcs, never thought I would like it, but I do. Won't be long before I like caravans too.
If you read my blogs you will know that we celebrate our birthdays in the home by surprising the other half with a weekend away. OK so you mock me for being so romantic and thoughtful and then writing about it; making you feel guilty that you haven't done the same and you hope the wife doesn't find out. However in my true arrogant style I will ignore your thoughts and tell you that for my birthday this year, this did not happen. This was not down to the other half being less romantic our thoughtful but to do with our new life as a family.
Instead I was taken to a very posh restaurant, visited only once before. It's a special occasion and she wanted to make an effort and I felt she hit the mark. We arrived at Jesmond Dene House for dinner. I was dressed in my waistcoat looking like a boy-band reject. The missus as usual looked stunning and classical (I know you are reading this), sporting a new haircut too.
As I was the birthday boy, the food I had was very good. I had a smoked eel starter. I've never seen an eel smoke. I guess they smoke when they are stressed or when they are electrocuted. I followed it with venison which was once a little deer...(oh god, I'm going to have to stop, it must be a dad-thing).
This was the first time out since our family changes and it was a different experience. I just have to do the same in a few months.
...I tell you what I'm going to do...kill it and laugh hysterically.
We moved into our new seaside home over a year ago now. It quickly became apparent that there was something else that had moved in too. A rat in the kitchen roof and under the floor. It was a pleasant experience eating your tea the odd night hearing a scratching or a pitter-patter of feet wondering if it was going to eat its way through the roof onto your lap. We poisoned that rat last year and it was found under the neighbour's floorboards. I like the fact that I poisoned it, but it didn't die in our home.
Now the environment council (the rat-man to me and you) visited us a few times last year and offered advice, poison and some incredible rat stories to keep you awake at night. Infact Andrea had a dream that a rat jumped onto the bed and wee-wee'd in her face. Pleasant.
We thought the saga was over. I'd blocked all known holes. Surveyed the whole house. Bought electronic deterrents, peppermint oil and a nice big rat cage. The winter came again. The day Andrea muttered the words: "Looks like the rat problem has gone", minutes later, as if the rat had been waiting for a dramatic cue, we heard scratching under the floor. The horrified soap-opera look to each other, followed by anger, confusion and rage against the rat was back.
Russell-the-rat-man was invited into our rat house again. It's not just dog-owners who look like their dogs by the way. This time he informed us that 98% of rats come through drains and man-holes. We are not sure why such a statistic wasn't mentioned a year ago to us. Anyway, the cameras were put down our main drains. In the process we found out that when our extension was built, they just covered the kitchen manhole with concrete - nice. We needed to get into this to complete the camera survey. So I took up 6 tiles without breaking them, removed a kitchen cupboard and smashed through 4 inches of concrete to reveal the manhole and a nice little rat route into our home and neighbours home. They get in from the main sewers via the drain into your home when builders do not block up the rodding pipe outlet properly.
The manhole has been dealt with now. There is still a trapped rat on the loose though. We heard commotion next door in the night, lots of banging and a couple of screams. We are too embarrassed to ask if it was rat related incase it was just a noisy-bonk.
Today, we are sure the rat is dying after taking large amounts of poison and a lot of verbal abuse. We've nicknamed it "the love-rat". Why? Because the little dirty goofy rodent spoilt my yearly Valentine home-cooked meal as I had to smash up the floor that day.
Some people have seized the moment well. What with the rising attraction of beach life and street food, Riley's Fish Shack have brought the two together. He basically sets up at King Edward's Bay and cooks local fish on his large BBQ. We tried a salmon wrap, it was delicious. We ate it while we watched a Karate group practise on the beach. Now you don't see that often.
