Postcard from Gateshead; The Angel of The North

We can’t leave without paying our respects to The Angel of The North. We can leave however, without paying for our non-existent wifi and our parking charges.

We were ready to do battle when we came to settle our hotel bill. But it didn’t come to that. The problem was not with our laptops, nor with BT. It turns out that the man who booked us in, probably a graduate of the Basil Fawlty school of hotel management, failed to enable our internet connection. Simple as that. If we'd known, we could have sorted it out. But he didn't tell us. He blamed our laptops and BT. There was even a charge on the bill for the phone calls he asked us to make to BT to rectify the problem.

The receptionist was apologetic and slightly embarrassed. She not only removed the phone charge, but also “for the inconvenience you’ve had” waived the £12 per day car parking charge. I’m impressed; she not only pinpointed the problem, but dealt with it quickly and fairly. So we leave as happy bunnies.

A few miles south of Gateshead we stop to wander round - and wonder at - The Angel of The North. For those who don’t know, the Angel is 20m tall with a wingspan close to that of a Jumbo Jet. Made from steel, it was built to commemorate the industries of this part of the world - coal-mining, ship-building and engineering - that once dominated the landscape.

We first came here 5 years ago. In 2009 all signs of my cancer had gone and we wanted to do something to mark the (apparent) change in our fortunes. (My next cancer was lurking in the wings; at that time probably no more than a twinkle in the old tumour’s eye; it would be another year before we knew anything about it.)

I’d long fancied the idea of a ‘big bike ride’ but would I persuade Anniemay? Land’s End to John O’Groats and London to Paris are well known in the “I’ve beaten cancer and now I’m going to do something other than watch telly” lexicon.

But I knew these would be too much for us. A coast to coast route would be more manageable and so we settled on the Hadrian’s Wall cycle route, from the Solway Firth to Tynemouth. If you have a small scale map, from the Irish Sea to the North Sea; it sounds further.

We left our car in Newcastle and a man with a van who specialised in this sort of thing, transported us and our bikes to the start - a B&B in Solway. Anniemay had never done anything like this before in her life and the rainy start did not bode well. But she’s game for a challenge and the sun was out by the time we got to our first overnight lodging. It took three days in all - and when we eventually crossed the Pennine Watershed we had a 30 mile downhill run to the North Sea.

The cycle route took us through Newcastle and along the Quayside, under the Tyne Bridge and past the Sage, the Millennium Bridge and the Baltic Arts Centre.

Entering any city is always more impressive and romantic by water. That we could ride alongside the river through this amazing city was the best possible introduction to what it had to offer. It was tempting to stop right there and then, but we still had another 10 miles to go to the finish at Tynemouth. So we pressed on, dipped our front wheels in the sea and then headed back to Newcastle-Gateshead for a few days rest and recuperation. And we simply fell in love with the place.

We always said we’d come back and Anniemay had the bright idea of buying train tickets from Newcastle to Durham and tickets for a concert to see Ladysmith Black Mambazo at the Sage, Gateshead, for my birthday present this year. And so here we are again.

There is so much to see and blip here - I’ve added a few pictures from Yorkshire and Tyneside in my blip folio here. I’ve included a photo of an heroic Anniemay crossing the Pennines by bike, back in 2009.