Just back from a trip with some of the usual suspects to play golf and to take in a day's test cricket at Chester-le-Street. A pleasure as always. We had a preliminary game of golf at Melton Mowbray (where AO is a member) which went passably well by my own dull standards until I collapsed as if spineless on the last two holes to hand the win to our host. In the smallness of those two holes I threw in three shots in a greenside bunker and a shanked chip when triumph still beckoned. Defeat was thus wondrously snatched from the jaws of victory.
|Dunstanburgh Castle Golf Club|
After the golf we journeyed back to Newcastle to our base at the Grand Station Hotel - a piece of faded glory with high ceilings, large rooms and coldish showers. A reliable base from which to strike out into the wonders of Newcastle night-life. Such life seems to be defined by a lack of adequate female clothing and a penchant for wearing what is available in a size too small. It is rather like our own Broad Street but somehow less self-conscious. This might be me romanticising the northern charm. Anyway I'm glad to say there are some proper drinking pubs where you don't have to shout over the music and climb over prone bodies.
|great sliding banisters|