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!