The Last Post.

Day Twenty Nine:  Friday.

Travel isn't quite as much fun when one has luggage to haul around but I managed to get down to Reading in one piece.  The train journey took more than 4 1/2 hours.  My hotel was a short walk away from the train station and is very nice.  I'm on the 13th floor. 

While I'm more drawn to the countryside and villages and small towns, Reading is certainly a nice city.  I've enjoyed my day here today.

The reason for Reading being on the itinerary is that the Museum of English Rural Life is here and they also have archives.  I have found a number of items in their online catalogue which concern William Fisken - a great great grand uncle of mine who invented the steam plough (and in some ways was the impetus for me to get involved in genealogy).  For all of my life we had in our house GGGxUncle William's scrapbook.  It was mostly filled with newspaper cuttings about the development of the steam plough and the matter of the patent.  It also has a couple of items which my dad stuck in for some reason and also spelling practice in my childish hand!

A number of years ago I gave it to Alan and then more recently I thought maybe the best place for this tangible piece of English agricultural history was the Museum of English Rural Life.  Alan agreed and so he and Jenny brought it with them.  They also brought (and bequeathed to me) all the old family photos which were at 43 Baycliff - and that includes the one we are 99.999% sure is William Fisken because he is posing with a small model of a steam plough.  In all the hundreds of references one can find about William Fisken, I have never found a photograph of him so this is a real gem.  And it was decided that we should donate the photograph as well.

So, this morning found me taking a pleasant walk through Reading to The Museum of English Rural Life.  An archivist met with me and was quite thrilled about this donation.  And I was very pleased of course.  

I took the opportunity to ask to see a letter which I knew was archived:  a rather long letter written in Bank Foot (Perthshire, Scotland) by Thomas Fisken to his brother William, who was in Northumberland, about strategy in regards to the patent and a competition to develop a better plough.

After that business was done, I of course went around the museum proper and thoroughly enjoyed doing so.  

Of particular interest was the exhibition dedicated to the art of the iconic Ladybird book.  Lovely!











I also visited the Reading Museum where the highlight was seeing a "copy" of the Bayeaux Tapestry.  

The Bayeaux Tapestry was created before the year 1100 and tells the story leading up to the Norman conquest of England in 1066.  

In 1886 a group of embroiderers in Staffordshire copied the tapestry.  It took 35 of them a year to complete the project.  This huge piece of work - 20" high and 230' long was toured around and when it was in Reading in 1895 the decision was made to sell it and a former mayor bought it for the town and it's been here ever since.

An extension of the Reading Museum is the ruins of Reading Abbey.  So off I toddled in search of them.  How wonderful to have such history right in the middle of a city!  

Of particular interest is that Henry 1st is buried there.  












Anyway, apart from all this culture, I just wandered around (it's a very walk-able city) and thoroughly enjoyed myself.  

So I will now say adieu. Next stop Isla-ville! 

Day 26 - Exhibition of the North

Day Twenty Six:  Tuesday.

Today was a very nice day.  The Exhibition of the North is now in full swing and today was the day to check out a couple of things which piqued my interest.

The photo is of Grey's Monument (Earl Grey) all decked out for the party.

The Rocket.  The Rocket is a famous steam engine designed and built in Newcastle in 1829 by Robert Stephenson.  While it wasn't the first steam locomotive, it was the one with the  innovations which became a template for steam engines for the next century and a half.  It was, and has continued to be, recognized in all corners, a potent symbol of Britain's industrial heritage.

After being away from the region for more than 150 years, The Rocket was welcomed home for the exhibition (it's usually in the Science Museum in London) and we went to see it in the Discovery Museum.  

The "we" of Alan and Jenny and me became four as we met  up with Sylvia (she of Hudspith researching fame).  Happily Sylvia stayed with us for the rest of the day and we've all become firm friends.

And the highlights of the rest of the day looked like this:

Early lunch in the cafe "The Cloisters" at St. Margaret's Cathedral (Catholic) in central Newcastle.  Old church (of course) - absolutely gorgeous inside.

St. James United Reformed Church - was St. James Congregational.  
Fortunately for us the caretaker was doing some painting today - so was there and able to let us in to this church which plays a significant role in the family history including being the church where both Alan's and my parents were married - both couples in 1946.  While I'd been inside before, it was the first time for Alan.  

It is also the church where my Uncle Leslie is memorialized.  I believe I have previously said his name is carved into a pew-end but now I realize it's the end of the choir stall.










The Museum of the North (was called the Hancock Museum in days gone by - I remember it well - though it wasn't my favourite.  I preferred the other one up the road which was interactive with model trains and the like.  The Hancock was mostly stuffed things.  That's my recollection anyway).

Today the Museum of the North is a treasure house of all sorts of wonderful things - some of which were brought in especially for the exhibition i.e. A David Hockney painting, John Lennon's piano and original artwork from Guess How Much I Love You.  

An early dinner at Branches - a restaurant in the very nice Jesmond area of Newcastle recommended by Alan and Jenny. 

Today is my last full day in Tynemouth.  It will be spent mostly around the townhouse preparing for tomorrow morning's departure (train to Reading).  Alan has suggested a picnic at the Tynemouth Priory which would be very nice but the fog is incredibly thick at the moment so we’ll have to see if that clears up.  I love the fog.  Two evenings ago we went down to the beach - we walked the length of the beach then went up and walked back via the top road and suddenly the mist/fog came rolling in and in no time flat we couldn’t see a thing much beyond the immediate area around us!  

Next report - and the last - will be from Reading which is 450 km due south of Newcastle.

Finally.... Day 25

Day Twenty Five:  Monday.

I began this day with some optimism - and it proved to be well-placed.  I have been keen to find the grave of Grandad Glover - my dad's dad who took his own life in 1919 - a few weeks after the birth of my dad.  I knew from  burial records that he and my grandmother (his wife) as well as my auntie Kathleen and great-aunt Lil were sharing the space with grandad Glover.

Without going into agonizing details, I will just say that I read the information I had a little differently which gave me hope that if I searched a particular area of the Elswick/St. John's cemetery - different to the area Dennis and I searched in 2016 - I may be lucky.  And lucky I was!  I found the grave which holds William Fisken Glover (grandad), Catherine Fisken (grandmother), great-aunt Lil and Auntie Kathleen.  I am delighted.  (as a bonus I also found a grave of a first cousin 2xremoved and his wife).

Their names are carved around the sides.  The stone which seems to be at the head is actually the back of the stone of the grave in the next row.  There were a lot of weeds and I regret I wasn't prepared for a clean-up project but I did my best with my bare hands.  I also regret not being confident enough to bring flowers with me but I asked Jenny to say a prayer which she did by giving thanks for those who have gone before us who have helped make us who we are.

Before heading for the cemetery, Alan and Jenny and I went back to Ethel Street and had a picnic at Elswick Park.  It was easier this time to be in Ethel Street - being with someone with more personal memories than me.

Days 21, 22, 23 & 24

Day Twenty One:  Thursday.

Today was the day that the Liverpudlians were coming to call.  That would be Alan and Jenny.  They were arriving mid afternoon and I was going to meet their train at Newcastle Central Station so I organized myself to get up to Newcastle a bit earlier in order to tick off something else off my to do list, ergo, visit 88 Ethel Street.  

This terrace house, built in the late 1800s in the Benwell area of the west end of Newcastle, was home (rented, as I discovered as per previous post) to various members of my family (including myself) for at least 51 years - until 1960 - when my Auntie Kathleen (my dad's sister) died.  

I have not been to Ethel Street since the death of Auntie Kathleen 58 years ago.  Alan and Jenny went there in the early 2000s and discovered that the house and number 90 had become a doctor's office The Ethel Street Surgery.  I expected to see this myself on this day but the surgery was no more.  Googling brought up a news 2013 story which reported about the anger of local residents about the consolidation of three neighbourhood surgeries.  

Sadly, Ethel Street was very depressing.  And I felt less than comfortable there.  I worked my way up to the main thoroughfare of Elswick Road which did nothing to lift my spirits.  A bus was not immediately available to get me back into Central Newcastle so I kept walking and came upon the Elswick/St. John's Cemetery where a number of family members are buried including Grandad Glover.  Dennis and I hadn't been able to find him (or anyone else) last time, but I couldn't just walk by without trying again.  This cemetery is big (23 acres) and is not related to a church.  It was opened in 1856 with two chapels and two entrance lodges and one can see what a wonderful place it had been - just so sad that there is no-one looking after it any more.  Anyway I had a little toddle around and called out for grandad, but nothing....

Once back in town I was still a bit early for the train so I took the opportunity to explore High Bridge Quarter - an area of  medieval streets which has experienced a renaissance after a long period of being very run-down.  The cobbled streets and historic buildings now make a nice backdrop to some interesting independent retailers and various eating and drinking and music establishments.  My wanderings brought me quite by accident right upon the remains of  the Newcastle.  No longer a castle - nothing remains except the keep (a fortified tower built within a castle) and the fortified gate.

Alan and Jenny were duly met and we made our way down to Tynemouth and a very nice evening getting caught up was had.

Day Twenty Two:  Friday.

Today was the day for York!  I left the town house in the capable hands of Alan and Jenny and got up to Newcastle for a morning train to the ancient city of York.  The journey took one hour.  

The purpose of this trip was to attend a family history show which could have easily been a day trip but I planned it so to have a good chunk of a day before to explore this grand city which oozes history at every turn - as it should, being founded by the Romans in the year 71!

York is a walled city and has many places to see and experience.  But the jewel in this particular crown has to be the York Minster - a gothic cathedral of no equal.  I spent quite a period of time there.  Rest of the time was just wandering through the streets - including the famous Shambles - a very narrow cobbled street with overhanging buildings, some dating from the 14th century.  It was originally a street of

butchers (the over hanging upper floors being a way keeping the hanging meat cool) but now it's a place of tourist-bait shops and eateries.  It was to the Shambles Market Tavern I headed for lunch.  Alan and Jenny had recommended it - and I enjoyed a Yorkshire pie and mushy peas with mint sauce which was delicious.  

My accommodation was a room in an old pub on Blossom Street which was just-right in the necessary departments:  comfy bed, lovely big tub and clean.  I enjoyed having a nightcap in the bar with the nice Yorkshire locals who were quietly enjoying the company of their friends and the Serbia vs Switzerland world cup game.  

Day Twenty Three:  Saturday.

So off to the races!  Well, to the racecourse anyways which was where the York Family History Show was being held.  It was a short bus ride and then a bit of a walk - as I turned into the area of the racecourse - there behold was a car boot sale (and a huge one at that!).  Oh the agony of having to just walk on by!  But, as it was, once I learned the way of the land at the show, I was able to take half an hour to check out the car boots after all. 

I took in one presentation which was good but mostly I was browsing the 70 or so exhibitor displays and engaging with some of them.  I left mid afternoon thinking I'd finish off with the car boot sale but it had already gone - so many cars just vanished - you would never know anyone had been there.  So I decided to walk back into town as the weather was glorious and the route included a  nifty-looking neighbourhood high street which I'd clocked from the bus that morning.  

So I enjoyed the last couple of hours in York then got the train back "home" where Jenny had a delicious steak supper ready.  In my absence the two of them had had a grand time - in Tynemouth and in Newcastle.

Day Twenty Four:  Sunday.

The original plan for us to attend a church service at Great Grandfather Glover's church in Horsley was replaced by the plan for me to see inside my old church in Whitley Bay.  Park Avenue Congregational Church was our church from 1957 until Mum and I emigrated in 1972 and it was an important part of our lives during that time.  The building is beautiful - built of red stone in 1907.  Inside it is graced with stained glass windows and a magnificent pipe organ.  In 1972 a vote was taken by all members of Congregational, Presbyterian and Methodist churches to decide whether to unite or not.  Mum and I voted but had left the country before the dust had settled.  When I was at the West End church a couple of weeks ago, I learned that the Whitley Bay congregationalist voted against the union.  If I'd known this 46 years ago, I had certainly forgotten it - but, not wanting to doubt the good secretary of West End, I want to look a bit further into this history.  But what I do know is that Congregationalists no longer had our lovely church building and that it was acquired by the Baptists in 1975.

I suppose I am glad that I went (maybe).  I was glad to see the two main stained glass windows again.  Over the years they were much studied as I sat through many sermons.  There were a few jarring changes - removal of some pews and the choir stalls and a big screen hanging in front of the pipes of the organ.  But I struggled with the service itself and the wailing and the swaying.  One woman was invited to the front and spoke about how she prays every day that the houses on her street will be bought by Christians or at least people willing to be saved. 😱

The rest of the day was lovely - gorgeous weather - and Whitley Bay was hopping with people enjoying the seaside.  We walked back to Tynemouth via the seafront stopping off for ice cream in Cullercoats.

Then "home" to watch England trounce Panama!

Day 19 and Day 20 - two good days.

Day Nineteen:  Tuesday.

 Today I was up and out even earlier than on Sunday morning - this time I was leaving the townhouse at 7 a.m. (who said this was a holiday anyways??)  But I was happy to do so because this was the day I was going to Rothbury!  Buses to Rothbury leave every two hours so if I was going to make this day worthwhile I had to catch the 8:15 out of Newcastle.  

Rothbury is a super-special place for me.  It's where most of my childhood holidays were spent; in a caravan in a farmer's field just outside the village.  When people in their droves were heading for Whitley Bay for their hols, we headed inland - to the beautiful countryside of the area of the Cheviot Hills of Northumberland.  I think Rothbury became "ours" because mum and her parents used to holiday there.

The last time I was in Rothbury was in 2004 when Peter and I scattered some of Mum's ashes at the base of Billberry Hill.  It was time to go back.

from the upper deck of the bus (thru dirty window)

Rolling into Rothbury on a double decker bus was a great experience.  "Back in the day" it would never ever have been a double decker.  But given the opportunity, I braved the upper level and the front seat!  The scenery was brilliant and the many twists and turns still very well remembered.  

Rothbury as a village could be described as a big village.  Way more than the basic pub, church and post office.  It's got an active community and it's high street is still thriving.  

The Vale Cafe in situ

Once off the bus at a little after 9:30 I headed for the Vale Cafe.  While the interior is somewhat different than it was in the 50's/60's it's still the best place to start the day either with breakfast or, as in my case this day, a pot of tea and a toasted teacake.  It's where we always began the Billberry Hill Hike.  

Then basically for the rest of the day I just wandered happily around the village, down by the River Coquet and so on.   Had lunch at the Queen's Head (which Peter will remember) - not as  nice as I had wanted it to be (the place or the food).  A bit tatty now.  Went back to the Vale for afternoonses before catching the 2:55 bus back.

But while wandering I was quite trigger happy with the camera...

Armstrong Cottages.  These are at the entrance to the village and my mother always said that she'd like to retire there.  I had always assumed it was an old folks home but they were built as almshouses in the late 1800's.

This is the old Congregational Church.  Not sure what it is now.  Maybe a private dwelling.  The year my dad was in charge of organizing the Sunday School picnic from Whitley Bay he chose Rothbury of course!  We had our picnic at the church here and then had our games and races and such down by the river.

To finish off I will tell you that while I was waiting at the bus stop to leave Rothbury, the bus came the other way - it's route took it to the next village, Thropton where it would turn around. I dashed across the road and got on it so that I could enjoy the ride.  And enjoy it I did.  The countryside was lovely.  

Day Twenty:  Wednesday.

Well today turned out to be an unexpected treat.  Without over-planning, I decided late morning to go to South Shields.  More than just going to South Shields, this was also going to be my first time on the ferry across the River Tyne from North Shields to South Shields.

In the 20 years I lived in this neck of the woods I never went to South Shields.  I assume there would have been no good reason to do so.  There's a beach there - but we had one of those in Whitley Bay 😉  

Two things drew me this time:  wanting to check out the ferry and the other being a place called The Word - the national centre for the written word which was listed in a tourism brochure.  Sounded interesting so without too much fuss I found out how to get to the ferry and off I went.  

The ferry is very nice and efficient and reliable and takes 7 minutes to cross the River Tyne.  They run twice an hour each way.  There were only a few folks on board and I made some sundry comments to a fellow who gleaned correctly that I was new to all this and pointed places out to me and gave me a bit of a history lesson.  He pointed out a big building just beyond the ferry landing saying this was the library.  I said I was looking for The Word.  He didn't know what that was.  Turns out The Word is actually the library - but as I discovered as soon as I went through the doors - it was a library and so much more.  

This library shot to the top of my library hit parade!  I may have mentioned that so many (most/all) of England's libraries, museums and even cathedrals have nice cafes - and The Word is no different - so in order to just sit and wonder before I went exploring I had lunch in the beautifully appointed cafe.  I'd

been dying to try the Double Ginger ice cream from the Northumbrian Doddington Dairy so thought this was as good a time as any.  It was very nice.  Gingerly good.

What made this library No. 1?  The architecture for starters.  The flow of the space.  The thoughtfulness of the areas for people and themes and displays...

Feeling buoyed by my experience at the library, rather than head back to the ferry I walked through the market square and down a pedestrian only shopping street.  A bit grungy like most high streets these days but one sensed the age and proud history of the area in some of the buildings - and one in particular stood called out not only because it was lovely looking but it was the museum and art gallery and it had a cafe and it was time for afternoon tea and cake.

Tea and a most excellent Victoria sponge was enjoyed before I took myself into the various exhibits on two floors.  It was all a wonderful depiction of the history, ancient and more recent, of the south Tyneside area.  

In the art gallery area this painting got me.  Blackberrying by Harold Harvey 1917.  

Finished off the day by shopping in Morrisons getting in supplies for the Liverpool folks who arrive tomorrow.  

  

My goodness, nearly forgot - in the museum was the Laughing Policeman!!!!  The Laughing Policeman was coin-operated entertainment in fair grounds including the seafront of Whitley Bay in it's heyday.  It cost 6d back then.  I paid 20p for the pleasure of it this afternoon in the museum.  I know you'll be delighted that I'm sharing it with you!  haha.
I tried loading the 20 sec video into the blog but it was taking far too long so it's now on my youtube channel.... https://youtu.be/Aah88CfAJP4