Tuesday 21st September 2010

Our exercise rythm has been totally broken of late. I have not cycled for what seems like weeks, and we have done precious little walking.

Yesterday I spent mostly sitting on my backside, either driving to Windsor, or waiting around Heathrow and then sitting on the plane on the way back. The weather forecast for today is good, and Kathleen does not have any doctors appointments today, so I suggest to her that we should either spend the day walking or cycling.

She opts for cycling, and I choose the route, which is to cycle along the River Tyne to Wylam. We pack a picnic and off we go.

First we head for the Tyne Pedestrian Tunnel, at Jarrow. The tunnel is elderly, having been built in the 1950's. It was once well used, mostly by shipyard workers travelling to and from work. But there are virtually no shipyards on the Tyne anymore, and the tunnel is little used and subsequently not well maintained.

It is not unusual for the ancient wooden escalators to be out of action, but there are lifts. Today however, all of the escaltors AND all of the lifts were broken down.

This meant I had to carry two bicycles down the stationary south side escalators, and then up the stationary north side escalators. By the time I joined Kathleen sitting on the wall at the north side of the tunnel, I was pretty much exhausted, and we still had about 35 miles to cycle!

We headed west along the "Hadrian's Way" cycle route, initially through non-descript streets of houses, but soon the view improved and we were cycling along the riverbank, which at this point is covered in trees.

A brief period of industry as we pass St Peters and the British Engines Factory, where brother-in-law Phill spent so many happy years being a wage slave, but soon we are on the Quayside at Newcastle. It is 11:00 and we stop for coffee, at the Pitcher and Piano.

We sit in the September sunshine for half an hour, and enjoy our coffee, whilst I eventually recover from my exertions at the Pedestrian Tunnel.

Soon we are on our way again, following the Quayside under the Tyne Bridge, and steadily west along the river. The improvements here are remarkable, it really is pleasant and we are surprised at the large number of people who like us are cycling along the river, or walking.

A brief section along a section of cycle track alongside Scotswood Road, where industry surviving on the river bank means the route must go around it, before at Newburn we are once again "in the countryside".

We pass the birth place of George Stephenson, steam engine and railway pioneer, and reach Wylam where we stop for our picnic. 

Refueled we cross the river bridge at Wylam, and head east past Wylam Railway station, back along the river towards home, following the "Keelman's Way" cycle route.

The path is initially a little narrow, which causes the first complaints from Kathleen, but soon it becomes a well surfaced and suitably wide track alongside a golf course.

At the end of the golf course the route passes through a rather difficult gate for cyclists to negotiate (another little grumble), before following the river bank along the edge of a nature reserve.

The track then rejoins the road for about a mile, as you go along this section, it is necessary to keep a sharp lookout for the blue sign directing you off to the road and back onto dedicated cycle track. I have missed this turn on previous occasions!

The weather is still superb, warm sunshine. The combination of the warmth and the need for a toilet stop, causes us to stop at a pub (The Tudor Rose) in Dunston. Not the most beatiful place, but a pleasant enough pub all the same.

Soon we are cycling along the Gateshead side of the riverbank to reach the Swing Bridge, then on past the Sage and The Baltic Centre.

The southern riverbank is a little more up and down, than the north side (another little complaint), but none the less pleasant, as you can see here as we cycle along opposite St Peters Basin towards Friars Goose Marina.

Yes, there is a Marina or two on the River Tyne, but do not get too excited, I do not think Southern France or Spain need to be too concerned for their tourist industry!

At Bill Quay, we leave the Keelman's Way cycle track and weave our way through the houses and under the Hebburn-Pelaw road to join the cycle track which is a former railway line which once took coal to Tyne Dock. This brings us to Monkton Village, from where we cycle along York Avenue then past the Prince of Wales pub, and follow the path alongside the metro line.

Soon we are home, 42 miles, and as I recall only three complaints, a good day out, rounded off with a shower and a trip to the Lakeside pub to eat.

An advert for Macdonalds?

Day time TV

No I have not become a fan of daytime TV, life has not yet reached that low an ebb.

The following video clip from the Jeremy Kyle Show is illuminating.

How did we get from the great ideals of the Labour Government who created the welfare state to this?

Sex workers strike - could not resist this.

Unhappy with the effects of market forces Sex Workers Strike.

Sunday 22nd August 2010 - Monday 6th September 2010 Houston etc

We set off on our journey to Houston, not so much a holiday as to see Gary, Susana and our new grandson, Gabriel, plus we want to help out in any way we can, probably by baby sitting, that is what Granparents do, isn't it?

The journey begins in the most mundane of ways, by walking to the metro station, pulling our cases along behind us.


It is a fine Sunday morning, and the usual 15 minute walk becomes 20 minutes, given the suitcases we have with us.


We arrive at Newcastle Airport, bags are checked in, hopefully we will see them again at Houston!


Now the airport experience begins, first there is security screening, necessary I know, but none the less tedious for that. Then being shuffled from waiting area to waiting area, until eventually we are in the airplane, and off to London Heathrow.


At Heathrow, more of the same, shuffled from place to place, anyone who says they enjoy the airport experience needs to be certified in my humble opinion, until eventually we are on the plane ready to take off.

My theory is that all of this moving about from place to place is actually totally unneccessary, they just do it to keep you busy, so that you do not realise how long it actually takes!


All is uneventful as we cross the atlantic, then turn south over the St Lawrence and the Great Lakes. A bit bumpy as we approach Houston, but nothing to get upset about.


At Houston, George Bush International (no not THAT George Bush, his father), we have to survive USA border controls, it takes almost an hour of queuing, finger printing and photographing, they really know how to make a person feel welcome.

There must be a special place to recruit he people who work in these jobs, they are just the same jumped up characters as we have back in UK in positions of "power".

Eventually we clear all this and emerge, complete with bags, to be met by Gary, Susana and of course Gabriel.

The first time we have seen him for real!, even more beautiful than expected, but then of course I am biased. We each have give him a hug before we even leave the airport.


It is after midnight according to our body clock, but only about 19:00 local time, as we emerge from the terminal to get in the car, the heat and humidity are still noticable, even in the evening, we will have to get used to it, it is not going to get any better we find.

We drive the 25 miles or so along flat motorway standard highways, almost all through the urban area which is Houston, to arrive at Gary and Susana's apartment.

It is in a very attractive complex, with its own Gym, cinema, swimming pool, "business centre' etc etc.

Monday, we spend recovering from the flight and time difference. We go with Susana and Gabriel for a walk in the park. Most of the rest of the day is spent in the pool, to keep cool.

The temperature is 85F, but the real killer is the humidity.

In the evening when it has cooled down to being just bloody hot, we go for another walk in the park with Gary, Susana and Gabriel.

Tuesday. We go to Galveston for the day. This is about one hours drive south from Houston. We go to place called "Moody Gardens", which includes an Aquarium. We also go to a 3D film show, first time I have seen such a thing.

You have to wear special glasses to get the effect. It really does seem like you are "in" the picture. The film was about Sharks and various other sea creatures, and you felt as if the jelly fish were actually drifting into your face it was so real.

After that, we had an excellent meal (of sea food, just to get our own back, except Kathleen of course who had steak), then we went for avery hot walk along the coast.

Wednesday. A day around the pool, with Gabriel. We take lots of photographs of him in the water.

We have a BBQ, with an enormous piece of steak. It takes an hour to cook and feeds all four of us.








Thursday. Kathleen and I get up early (7:45) and decide to go to the gym before breakfast, to work off the last two days of excessive eating.

We exhaust ourselves on the cycling machines for 30 minutes, followed by a bit of arm exercise with dumbells and a session on another piece of equipment which resembles a medievil torture machine.

After breakfast we are trusted to babysit Gabriel, whilst Gary and Susana go shopping for suitcases.

The rest of the day is spent in the Pool and visiting the Gym again.

Friday. We do our Gym session before breakfast again, this time we are a little more sensible and do slightly shorter sessions on more pieces of equipment. I learn that running on the treadmill is not my forte.

We are joined by a couple of much younger (and fitter) young ladies, we slink away as they pound the treadmills, one of them even running backwards. Show off.

After breakfast, we take Gabriel out in his "Stroller" as the Americans call a buggy, to the park, and then to do some shopping in the supermarket. We end up in Starbucks where I have an enormous (and delicious) Smoothie. This of course probably undoes the last two days in the gym, but who cares.

In the afternoon, we go for a family photo session.

All of the photographs are very good, but this is probably my favourite shot, with the proud parents, proud grand parents and Gabriel doing one of his best expressions of interest in the proceedings.

After that we are go for another excellent seafood meal, Kathleen with her dislike of all food associated with the sea, has chicken.

Saturday. Off to the Gym again, we are regulars now. Unfortunately for Gary, he is working today, on an urgent expert witness report. So we amuse ourselves for the day, and have a simple (but good) Pizza in the evening.

Sunday. Every one goes to church at 8:00, except me of course. I "do the chores", ie empty the rubbish, make sandwiches for our trip to New Orleans etc. Once they return from church we make the long drive to New Orleans. It is about 6 hours drive, nothing by American standards of course.

The whole distance is on motorway type roads, across a flat landscape of mostly empty countryside. Once we cross the state border into Louisiana, the flatness remains, but much of the road is built on stilts as we cross mile after mile of "wetlands" (ie swamp). 

We find our accomodation (The Quarterhouse), no problem, it is very nice and located in the French Quarter, near all of the action.  

Monday. Time to explore. New Orleans is a city you can walk around, unlike Houston. The French Quarter is the area for bars and various other dubious establishments.

There are lots of doubtful looking characters wandering around, or loitering on street corners, many of them a bit drunk. But they appear friendly and harmless, so we do not feel intimidated at all.

It is certainly all happening in this area, next door to the Quarter House (where we are staying), there is a strip joint called "The Harem".   The "girls" take their break standing at the door, with lots of flesh showing, sorry I did not get any photographs, here is a streetcar in Canal Street instead.

In the afternoon, we attended a "Cookery Demonstration". It was hosted by a professional windbag who did hardly any cooking, just lots of talking (about himself), and there was us thinking we were going to get fed on samples for $5 each.

Tuesday. We drive out to the "River Road", to visit "Oak Alley Plantation". Before the Civil War, there were 1,200 Plantations, along the banks of the Mississippi, between New Orleans and Baton Rouge. At that time 2/3 of the millionaires in the USA lived along this road.

The oak trees which are one of the main features, were planted in the 1700's by an unknown French settler. He must have had grand plans to have planted such a set of magnificent trees. But the trees outlasted him and did not come into thier own until the land was bought in 1839 by Jacques Telesphore.

The Owners house is still pretty much intact, although the family who owned it have long since gone. The story is that the husband died and the wife was so used to spending money like water, she went bankrupt and lost everything.

The wealth was built on Sugar Cane, and the sweat of the slaves of course.

There is a plaque listing the names of the slaves, and how much they cost to buy. On reading the plaque, I was surprised at how much had been paid for each slave. Healthly male slaves were approximately $1000 dollars. Later however when doing the house "tour", we were told that the family spent $3000 dollars a week on ice (transported from the north, this was before refrigeration), so that puts a slightly different spin on it.

Although the main house is well preserved, nothing remains of the cabins where the poor slaves lived.

Myself and Kathleen cannot resist trying a "Mint Julep", very nice too.

In the evening, we baby sit whilst Gary and Susana go out and have a meal, I think this is the first time Gabriel has been left behind, for anything but the briefest time, but he survives the experience without mishap.

Wednesday. We decide to walk to Louis Armstrong Park. But when I visit reception to ask for a city map, we are warned off by the receptionist, who tells me it is not safe to go there. True to form, I ignore this advice and go anyway, but the park is closed!, so we do not get to discover if it is safe or not.

We wander back into the French Quarter and find a cafe for coffee and (French) donuts. We are serenaded by a jazz combo.

We then wander through Jackson Park, in the direction of the Cathederal.

Gary and Susana leave Gabriel with us, whilst they go shopping. This is becoming a habit, we have graduated to be trusted babysitters! how wonderful.

As we are about to leave the Cathederal, a thunderstorm starts. We are forced to wait in the Cathederal for 40 minutes sheltering from the rain. When it reduces from a torrent to just a downpour, we make a dash for it. Gabriel is nice and dry in his "stroller" with the rain cover on, and we dodge from balcony to balcony trying to keep dry, as we head back to the Quarter House in time for his midday feed.

In the evening we stroll by the river, and see the steamboat "Natchez" setting off on an evening cruise.

Gary and Susana take Gabriel back since it is past his bedtime, we stop of in a lively pub, where the price of every drink (ie Beer, Gin, whatever) seems to be $2.50.

Thursday. We take the streetcar (Tram) to the "Garden District". The ride in the streetcar is fun. There is a group of four Americans who are staying at the Quarter House, they recognise us (well, they recognise Gabriel) and like all of the Americans we have met so far are very pleasant and friendly.

Having bought $5 day passes, our plan is to ride to the end of the line and walk back, hopping on the streetcar when we feel tired or hot and riding some of the way.

We walk past a big area of grassland, where some kind of birds are feeding, do not have a clue what they are.

We stop off at a Mexican Restaurant for lunch.

The waitress speaks to us in Spanish, but it turns out she is Columbian, rather than Mexican, so not very authentic, but quite palatable.

 

The Garden District is a residential area, with a beautiful park, and some very impressive housing. 

Not sure just how rich you have to be to live in this part of town.

We hop back on the Streetcar and continue of journey back toward the French  Quarter.

The Streetcar breaks down!, we have to continue on a bus. There is someone on hand to organise that we all get on the bus, and continue on our way.

When we get back to Canal Street we are still in the mood for adventure, so we hop on another Streetcar, this one is airconditioned and takes us to the Cementry District.

Sounds a bit morbid I know, but it is impressive, like all things American it is enormous.

In the evening Kathleen and I, eat out by ourselves. We wander along Bourbon Street, THE place for drinking. The street is lined with bars, all offering 3 drinks for the price of one. The places which are not bars are strip joints, with the girls standing in the doorway trying to attract customers. From what we could see, they were atrracting  alot of attntion, but not many people were actually going in.

We wander into more civilized parts, looking for somewhere to eat, and meet an American lady who is also staying at the Quarter House. She recommended a restaurant called "Irene's". From the outside it is a nondescript building, but inside it is very nice, and the food is very good.

The have a "motto" on the wall, which I thought was quite amusing:

If you are grouchy, irritable or just plain mean, there will be a $10 charge, for putting up with you.

Friday. Gary and Susana go on a paddle steamer trip on the Mississippi, followed by a meal, so we have our longest babysitting session so far. We have him for most of the day, but he manages us wonderfully.

In the evening, Kathleen does something which is very, very rare for her, and elects to have a meal at Macdonalds. Having drunk an American size coke, Kathleen cannot sleep that night since she is overdosed on Caffiene. Need I say more.

Saturday. The long drive back to Houston, takes up most of the day, and gives Kathleen a chance to dwell on the comming flight home tomorrow. Flying is not her favourite pastime.

Sunday. Gary, Susana and Gabriel are returning to the UK to live, shortly. They have lots of possessions to move, so we undertake to carry some bags for them. We set off for the airport with our own two suitcases, plus a further two of theirs and a bag of diving equipment. The baggae trolley is so full I can barely see over the top of it. Needless to say we have exceeded our baggage allowance, and it costs an additional $200.

We bid our farewells to Gary, Susana and Gabriel.

The flight to London Heathrow is uneventful, just as you would wish.

Monday. We arrive at Heathrow, 40 minutes ahead of schedule. From there on, nothing goes right. The airport is  so busy we have to circle for 20 minutes, before we land. There are no "piers" available, so we are parked on the tarmac and must wait for a bus, which fails to turn up for a nearly half an hour.

Eventually we get into the terminal, where there are enormous queues to go through security.

By the time we emerge from the security process, it is 9:15, 2 hours since we landed, and te information board shows our Newcastle flight is delayed by 45 minutes, now 10:45, rather than 10:00.

We buy a newspaper, retire to a cafe, and have a bacon sandwich, before heading for the Newcastle flight.

We finally arrive at Newcastle, where our mountain of bags are waiting for us. Thankfully, Dana has come in the car to collect us. Despite my surface confidence at moving this mountain of bags single handed, I was not really looking foward to it.

Amazingly, Dana's trusty Nissan Note, takes the bags, and ourselves in it's stride, and we are soon home.

Free Enterprise