Day six to day nine.

Day Six:  Wednesday.

This was a great day!  Dennis and I bought Explorer Passes at the Tynemouth Metro Station which gave us unlimited travel on metro or buses or ferries within the north-east.  We got ourselves up to Newcastle by metro then walked to the bus station and got a bus to MORPETH.  

Morpeth is a lovely, bustling market town in Northumberland on the river Wansbeck.  We arrived there in time to have a bit of a tootle around the shops before having an early lunch after which we set off for the main reason for this outing:  to get to Pegswood for a meeting of the Wansbeck and District branch of the Northumberland and Durham Family History Society.  

Pegswood is small village a couple of miles outside of Morpeth.  I'd never been there before.  Despite the closing of the Pegswood Colliery (coal mine) in the late 60's, it is still classed as a "pit village".  There are a fair number of such places in this region.  These former pit villages are reportedly doing fairly well with the interest of young families in raising their children in the country.  Pegswood has a well-attended primary school (we witnessed lunch hour playtime!) and a community hub which was our destination.  A community hall with good facilities for everyone - and in todays case, a meeting of genealogists.  In the kitchen a group of women were sitting around - not sure if they were the local Weight Watchers or a craft group as they seemed to be doing both.

The meeting of the Wansbeck branch of he NDFHS was very well attended and was cheerful and lively.  After a bit of business presented by the chair, the afternoon was very pleasantly spent listening to a presentation by a local historian/author entitled "Pubs, Brewers and Beer".  The combination of him being a really good speaker and the information he was sharing made for an excellent presentation.  Dennis and I (and everyone else) thoroughly enjoyed it.  My particular interest of course lies in the fact that my grandda (John Christie - my mum's dad) was the foreman at the maltings of the Newcastle Breweries and my Mum actually was born and grew up - in fact lived there until her second marriage - above the maltings in Newcastle.  You could say that beer is in my blood!

The chair of the branch introduced Dennis and me as visiting from Canada.  After the meeting we enjoyed chatting with a number of people.  All super friendly.

Day Seven:  Thursday.

Thursday found Dennis and I heading up to Newcastle again.  (The journey, btw, takes about 25 mins - and it takes us about 10 minutes or so to walk to the Tynemouth station).  This time our destination is the City Library.  

What I love about England is that so many (most) of the public places - libraries, museums, even cathedrals) have lovely little cafes.  The Newcastle City Library is no exception so Dennis and I began there with toasted teacake (me) and Dennis (in the absence of a cheese scone) happily chose a Bacon Stottie.  What is a stottie I hear you ask.  It's a kind of bread found only in the north east of England - I liken it to bannock actually - but maybe a bit softer.  But the main thing is that is round and flat.  You can get a big version (stottie cake) which you slice - but also a small version is use for single sandwiches like a bacon sandwich affectionately called a bacon stottie.  And while I'm on this subject, I should also point out that the bacon here is different - it's thick back bacon and absolutely delicious.

Anyway, back to the matter in hand:  the library.  The sixth floor is all "Local Studies" and that is where Dennis and I took root for the next two to three hours.  I put Dennis on a microfilm reader with the December 1919 copies of the Newcastle Journal.  We are looking for an inquest report into the death of Grandad Glover.  I looked last time and couldn't find but I thought a new set of eyes may be worth while.  You may find it unusual that inquests into suicides would be reported in the newspaper - but they were - not always of course - not sure of the criteria.  But it would seem that Grandad's death didn't meet that criteria.

To review:  Grandad Glover took his own life at age 40 in his home on the first Monday in December 1919. This was less than two months after the birth of his fourth child (my dad).  The other children were born before WW1 which would lead some to believe that Grandad fought in the war and was damaged from the experience.  Not an unusual scenario.  But I cannot find any evidence of him being in the war - but some new information which I found on Tuesday at the archives is that he was very much involved in the church - he was a deacon - giving the impression of an involved person.  (He also became a mason in 1917 - but I'm not sure just what to make of this fact....). I learned about his church activities when I had this marvellous book in my hands at the Tyne & Wear Archives - a book of the handwritten minutes of church meetings and the membership rolls for the years before, during and after the war.  Occasionally the minutes mentioned the death of an active member but they didn't mention Grandad - because of the nature of his death I would assume.  

While Dennis read through the papers on microfilm and developed a bond with a cheerful chappie who obviously spends a lot of time there (he was being super-helpful) - I was poring over electoral registers, minutes of city council and other books - and thoroughly enjoying myself I might say.

Paul had been in contact and was heading over to Newcastle (he lives on the other side of the River Tyne) so we met up with him.  The three of us headed over to Bolbec Hall - a magnificent old building which houses the Literary and Philosophical Society library.  We went there because, for some reason, it was thought that they may have info about Grandad Glover's death.  I think we may have misunderstood - but no matter - it took us into a wonderful place we'd never have seen or known about otherwise.

Day Eight:  Friday.

Dennis toddled off to visit with Sam and I had a nice quiet day working on the genealogy file.  We met up later on Tynemouth Front Street and took Sam's recommendation and had dinner at the Buddha restaurant which is in an old church.  Very nice.  Dennis's black bean udon was just like at Sabai, my massaman curry not so much so.  

Day Nine:  Saturday.

This was a lovely day.  While Dennis test drove the washer and dryer, I toddled out to the Tynemouth station for the market.  Enjoyed an hour or so there then got the metro to WEST Monkseaton (thought of mum!) and began walking down into Monkseaton and further into Whitley Bay.  In some ways this was a nostalgic walk but in many ways not because so much has changed in the 46 years I've been away.  But I enjoyed it nonetheless.  I popped into the Monkseaton library which was a hub of activity with women drinking tea, eating cakes and knitting - and chatting -enthusiastically!  

I knew about a craft sale and car boot sale at the Masonic Hall in Whitley Bay and I went there.  Badly named event.  Just a few stalls but very pleasant people.  Mostly folks raising funds for various overseas projects.  I played Tombola;  I paid  £1 and got four tickets.  If the number on a ticket ended with a one or a zero I won the prize with that number.  One of my tickets was 1000 so I won a prize - a nice cuddly white elephant!  Hmmm, I wonder who I'll give this to!!??

The Masonic Hall was just around the corner more or less from the great 129 Cafe of Day Four so I went there for lunch - opted for their "Smooth Vegetable Soup" - and it was absolutely Delicious!

I got on the metro at Whitley Bay - two stops to Tynemouth - and Dennis was on the platform, ticket in hand, and hopped onto the train and we went to North Shields.  Ended up not doing much there.  North Shields, while busy, is a bit depressing and as we didn't actually have a really good reason for being there, we just hopped back on the metro, back to Tynemouth and the market for a cup of tea and then home.