View allAll Photos Tagged ,Retching
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
Nothing beats a phone call from your long time friend asking for "a favor"...except a favor in 30° weather.
My long time friend Colt has been trying to sell his one of a kind custom fully built acura TL (see Colt's TL set). He struggled with finding someone wanting such a VIP style car in our retched town, but eventually found a willing candidate to trade for a sport bike, the all black 04 honda cbr 600rr.
Colt doesn't ride, (he's more of a 500hp v8 guy) but jumped at the opportunity to sell something a little bit more liquid, so he got the car to 'trade' value, removing his work vs-xx rims, bodykit, and other small customized pieces.
While they were working on the title work, I snuck the bike behind a church and tried to grab a few shots. 2pm isn't exactly my favorite time to shoot but i made it work. I forgot my tripod and my g/f drove my flashes / camera behind me so I just had to make due.
Shots were done mainly with the tamron 17-50 f2.8 with an nd8 filter set in AEB mode. The first shot was set to sync at 1/200 and fire the flashes (3 @ full power), while the second shot was set to 1/500ish to get the sky nice and dark. If i would've had a tripod it would've been much easier but they layered nicely. A few other edits were done once behind the computer but I really liked how this set turned out, as I'm afraid to shoot black cars / bikes and also shoot at such a 'bad' time of day.
I called this set "face your fears" because of the many obstacles on different levels it entailed...riding someone else's bike for one, riding it in freezing weather, shooting mid day, trying to light up a black vehicle, and the headaches we entail while dealing with purchasing or trading a new vehicle.
hope you all enjoy!
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
It was the name that did it. The label on the bottle said Wootonga and I just had to investigate. It was only 5 euro and it had a 19 volt kick. Wootonga, Australian sweet sherry.
It might have been fine if I had drunk it in small amounts as an after dinner tipple, but I drank the whole bottle in one go, and for some unfathomable reason decided to eat a jar of Ahti raw baltic herring in a mustard sauce to go along with it. Anybody would have thought I was pregnant.
Logic should tell you that Australian Sweet Sherry and raw baltic herring in mustard sauce is not a good combination, but let me just say that the unusualness of the flavours, the mingling of the sweetness and the bitterness was sufficiently interesting that three-quarters of the wine was gone and almost all of the raw herring before the nausea began to creep into my throat.
Having started a project I was loathe to give up, so operating on the principle of a "hair of the dog that bite you" I downed the remaining glass of Wootonga in one gulp and observing some onion rings and black peppercorns remaining in the raw herring jar I ate them as well.
It was when the molars crunched through the peppercorns that the projectile vomiting started, and after the stomach was empty the dry retching continued. There is nothing worse than the taste of sour bile in your mouth... well in actual fact there is... Wootonga and raw herring.
A day of rain.
And a trip to Newcastle.
Hmmmm, Newcastle.
We woke up at half seven, outside it was overcast with the promise of much rain through the day. We planned to go to Hexham to catch the train into the city, wander round, have lunch, take shots and come back. And it still sounded a good idea in the morning. So, after breakfast, we gathered our stuff, our new waterproof jackets and walking boots, packed the car and set off down the valley to Hexham.
There is an even more local station nearer the cottage, but only has a two-hourly service through the day. A 15 minute drive to Hexham opens the possibility of half hourly trains, if we got bored in the city.
Two pounds to park the car all day outside the station, seven quid for a return ticket. A cheap day it seemed.
We had timed it just right, and 5 minutes after arriving, our train, a class 156, pulled up and we all got on for the half hour trundle into town. The line runs beside the river Tyne, and is very picturesque, even from a rattly diesel DMU.
We pulled into Newcastle, over Stephenson’s high level bridge, with glorious views over the river and city. It had just begun to rain, but we were prepared.
Outside the station, we looked up the wide street in front, and I saw a memorial, which should mean there was a square, maybe the centre of the city, so we set off, dodging shoppers and waiting bus passengers. However, we were thirsty. And hungry. And seeing an Italian ice cream parlour, we go inside to have breakfast.
I order sausage roll and a coffee: Jools has quiche. And a coffee. Now, that we did not specify what kind of coffee we wanted should have meant we got a cup of filter. Or so we thought. But what we did get was a cup of milky coffee, the kind that my parents used to drink, made with almost all hot milk, and horrible.
I tried to tell myself this was some kind of retro food experience, but my main thought was to drink it as soon as possible before a skin formed on the top, which would have made me retch.
Further up the street, we saw a sign saying ‘central arcade’; we thought it looked interesting and went in. Just as well we did, as inside it was decorated with splendid tiles, in a fine art deco fashion. In admiring them, we caught the attention of a woman, who engaged us in conversation. Turns out she was a guide, and for four pounds each would take us on a 90 minute tour round the city.
Sounded fair to us, so we paid, and our guide explained the history of the arcade and the surrounding area, all gentrified in the 1830s, which so resembled fine Parisian boulevards. It was a wonderful area, and the style, Tyne Gothic was very nice and almost chic. It has been renovated in recent times, and looks like it did when new, except for the pawnbrokers and other modern shops now occupying the ground floors.
We were shown the indoor market, the Theatre Royal, all the time heading down towards the river. We stop at The Black Gate, the old main entrance to the city, and next to it the Norman, or New, castle. I know that from the top fine views of trains arriving and leaving from the station could be had, and so I planned to return later in the day.
We walk down the old main road, the old Great North Road, as was, now a quit pedestrianised street, leading steeply down underneath two of the 5 bridges that cross the river. More history down there; merchants houses, where wharfs unloaded good from around the world, and just beyond, the once busy river.
That was the tour, we thanked the guide, and she said that along the river we would find many places to have lunch. We walked on, coming to a modern glass and steel building, a posh eateries and bar: looking at the menu, we both decide burgers were in order. So we go in, take a table, order drinks and our meal and watch the people. It is graduation at the university, and many people are in gowns, joyful with their friends and families, out celebrating their degrees and awards.
Our burgers were good, as were the drinks; Jools has a margarita, which was OK, but strong. Once we finish, I leave Jools on a bench as I cross the blinking bridge to snap the views along the river.
As the rain falls again, we walk back up the hill to the castle: I buy a ticket and go straight to the roof of the keep to snap the trains. But no Flying Scotsmen or Deltics this day, just the usual class 91, now rebranded to Branson’s Virgin company.
----------------------------------------------------
The Gateshead Millennium Bridge is a pedestrian and cyclist tilt bridge spanning the River Tyne in England between Gateshead's Quays arts quarter on the south bank, and the Quayside of Newcastle upon Tyne on the north bank. Opened for public use in 2001, the award-winning structure was conceived and designed by architect Wilkinson Eyre and structural engineer Gifford.[1] The bridge is sometimes referred to as the 'Blinking Eye Bridge'[2] or the 'Winking Eye Bridge'[3] due to its shape and its tilting method. In terms of height, the Gateshead Millennium Bridge is slightly shorter than the neighbouring Tyne Bridge, and stands as the sixteenth tallest structure in the city.
The bridge was lifted into place in one piece by the Asian Hercules II,[4] one of the world's largest floating cranes, on 20 November 2000. It was opened to the public on 17 September 2001,[5] and was dedicated by Queen Elizabeth II on 7 May 2002.[6] The bridge, which cost £22m to build, was part funded by the Millennium Commission and European Regional Development Fund. It was built by Volker Stevin.[7]
Six 45 cm (18 in) diameter hydraulic rams (three on each side, each powered by a 55 kW electric motor) rotate the bridge back on large bearings to allow small ships and boats (up to 25 m (82 ft) tall) to pass underneath. The bridge takes as little as 4.5 minutes to rotate through the full 40° from closed to open, depending on wind speed. Its appearance during this manoeuvre has led to it being nicknamed the "Blinking Eye Bridge".[5]
The bridge has operated reliably since construction, opening to allow river traffic to pass. It also opens periodically for sightseers and for major events such as the Northumbrian Water University Boat Race and the Cutty Sark Tall Ships' Race. One of the principal requirements for opening the bridge is to allow access to HMS Calliope where Royal Navy patrol boat HMS Example is based.
The construction of the bridge won the architects Wilkinson Eyre the 2002 Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) Stirling Prize.[8] and won Gifford the 2003 IStructE Supreme Award.[9] In 2005, the bridge received the Outstanding Structure Award[10] from International Association for Bridge and Structural Engineering (IABSE).
Bollards, known as the Vessel Collision Protection System, were installed when the bridge was built to protect it from collisions. However, the bollards became unsightly, and it became noted that they were not really needed. They were removed in March 2012.[11]
Tilt times for the bridge are displayed both on the bridge itself, and also on a page on the Gateshead Council website.
Nothing beats a phone call from your long time friend asking for "a favor"...except a favor in 30° weather.
My long time friend Colt has been trying to sell his one of a kind custom fully built acura TL (see Colt's TL set). He struggled with finding someone wanting such a VIP style car in our retched town, but eventually found a willing candidate to trade for a sport bike, the all black 04 honda cbr 600rr.
Colt doesn't ride, (he's more of a 500hp v8 guy) but jumped at the opportunity to sell something a little bit more liquid, so he got the car to 'trade' value, removing his work vs-xx rims, bodykit, and other small customized pieces.
While they were working on the title work, I snuck the bike behind a church and tried to grab a few shots. 2pm isn't exactly my favorite time to shoot but i made it work. I forgot my tripod and my g/f drove my flashes / camera behind me so I just had to make due.
Shots were done mainly with the tamron 17-50 f2.8 with an nd8 filter set in AEB mode. The first shot was set to sync at 1/200 and fire the flashes (3 @ full power), while the second shot was set to 1/500ish to get the sky nice and dark. If i would've had a tripod it would've been much easier but they layered nicely. A few other edits were done once behind the computer but I really liked how this set turned out, as I'm afraid to shoot black cars / bikes and also shoot at such a 'bad' time of day.
I called this set "face your fears" because of the many obstacles on different levels it entailed...riding someone else's bike for one, riding it in freezing weather, shooting mid day, trying to light up a black vehicle, and the headaches we entail while dealing with purchasing or trading a new vehicle.
hope you all enjoy!
A day of rain.
And a trip to Newcastle.
Hmmmm, Newcastle.
We woke up at half seven, outside it was overcast with the promise of much rain through the day. We planned to go to Hexham to catch the train into the city, wander round, have lunch, take shots and come back. And it still sounded a good idea in the morning. So, after breakfast, we gathered our stuff, our new waterproof jackets and walking boots, packed the car and set off down the valley to Hexham.
There is an even more local station nearer the cottage, but only has a two-hourly service through the day. A 15 minute drive to Hexham opens the possibility of half hourly trains, if we got bored in the city.
Two pounds to park the car all day outside the station, seven quid for a return ticket. A cheap day it seemed.
We had timed it just right, and 5 minutes after arriving, our train, a class 156, pulled up and we all got on for the half hour trundle into town. The line runs beside the river Tyne, and is very picturesque, even from a rattly diesel DMU.
We pulled into Newcastle, over Stephenson’s high level bridge, with glorious views over the river and city. It had just begun to rain, but we were prepared.
Outside the station, we looked up the wide street in front, and I saw a memorial, which should mean there was a square, maybe the centre of the city, so we set off, dodging shoppers and waiting bus passengers. However, we were thirsty. And hungry. And seeing an Italian ice cream parlour, we go inside to have breakfast.
I order sausage roll and a coffee: Jools has quiche. And a coffee. Now, that we did not specify what kind of coffee we wanted should have meant we got a cup of filter. Or so we thought. But what we did get was a cup of milky coffee, the kind that my parents used to drink, made with almost all hot milk, and horrible.
I tried to tell myself this was some kind of retro food experience, but my main thought was to drink it as soon as possible before a skin formed on the top, which would have made me retch.
Further up the street, we saw a sign saying ‘central arcade’; we thought it looked interesting and went in. Just as well we did, as inside it was decorated with splendid tiles, in a fine art deco fashion. In admiring them, we caught the attention of a woman, who engaged us in conversation. Turns out she was a guide, and for four pounds each would take us on a 90 minute tour round the city.
Sounded fair to us, so we paid, and our guide explained the history of the arcade and the surrounding area, all gentrified in the 1830s, which so resembled fine Parisian boulevards. It was a wonderful area, and the style, Tyne Gothic was very nice and almost chic. It has been renovated in recent times, and looks like it did when new, except for the pawnbrokers and other modern shops now occupying the ground floors.
We were shown the indoor market, the Theatre Royal, all the time heading down towards the river. We stop at The Black Gate, the old main entrance to the city, and next to it the Norman, or New, castle. I know that from the top fine views of trains arriving and leaving from the station could be had, and so I planned to return later in the day.
We walk down the old main road, the old Great North Road, as was, now a quit pedestrianised street, leading steeply down underneath two of the 5 bridges that cross the river. More history down there; merchants houses, where wharfs unloaded good from around the world, and just beyond, the once busy river.
That was the tour, we thanked the guide, and she said that along the river we would find many places to have lunch. We walked on, coming to a modern glass and steel building, a posh eateries and bar: looking at the menu, we both decide burgers were in order. So we go in, take a table, order drinks and our meal and watch the people. It is graduation at the university, and many people are in gowns, joyful with their friends and families, out celebrating their degrees and awards.
Our burgers were good, as were the drinks; Jools has a margarita, which was OK, but strong. Once we finish, I leave Jools on a bench as I cross the blinking bridge to snap the views along the river.
As the rain falls again, we walk back up the hill to the castle: I buy a ticket and go straight to the roof of the keep to snap the trains. But no Flying Scotsmen or Deltics this day, just the usual class 91, now rebranded to Branson’s Virgin company.
----------------------------------------------------
The Gateshead Millennium Bridge is a pedestrian and cyclist tilt bridge spanning the River Tyne in England between Gateshead's Quays arts quarter on the south bank, and the Quayside of Newcastle upon Tyne on the north bank. Opened for public use in 2001, the award-winning structure was conceived and designed by architect Wilkinson Eyre and structural engineer Gifford.[1] The bridge is sometimes referred to as the 'Blinking Eye Bridge'[2] or the 'Winking Eye Bridge'[3] due to its shape and its tilting method. In terms of height, the Gateshead Millennium Bridge is slightly shorter than the neighbouring Tyne Bridge, and stands as the sixteenth tallest structure in the city.
The bridge was lifted into place in one piece by the Asian Hercules II,[4] one of the world's largest floating cranes, on 20 November 2000. It was opened to the public on 17 September 2001,[5] and was dedicated by Queen Elizabeth II on 7 May 2002.[6] The bridge, which cost £22m to build, was part funded by the Millennium Commission and European Regional Development Fund. It was built by Volker Stevin.[7]
Six 45 cm (18 in) diameter hydraulic rams (three on each side, each powered by a 55 kW electric motor) rotate the bridge back on large bearings to allow small ships and boats (up to 25 m (82 ft) tall) to pass underneath. The bridge takes as little as 4.5 minutes to rotate through the full 40° from closed to open, depending on wind speed. Its appearance during this manoeuvre has led to it being nicknamed the "Blinking Eye Bridge".[5]
The bridge has operated reliably since construction, opening to allow river traffic to pass. It also opens periodically for sightseers and for major events such as the Northumbrian Water University Boat Race and the Cutty Sark Tall Ships' Race. One of the principal requirements for opening the bridge is to allow access to HMS Calliope where Royal Navy patrol boat HMS Example is based.
The construction of the bridge won the architects Wilkinson Eyre the 2002 Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) Stirling Prize.[8] and won Gifford the 2003 IStructE Supreme Award.[9] In 2005, the bridge received the Outstanding Structure Award[10] from International Association for Bridge and Structural Engineering (IABSE).
Bollards, known as the Vessel Collision Protection System, were installed when the bridge was built to protect it from collisions. However, the bollards became unsightly, and it became noted that they were not really needed. They were removed in March 2012.[11]
Tilt times for the bridge are displayed both on the bridge itself, and also on a page on the Gateshead Council website.
A day of rain.
And a trip to Newcastle.
Hmmmm, Newcastle.
We woke up at half seven, outside it was overcast with the promise of much rain through the day. We planned to go to Hexham to catch the train into the city, wander round, have lunch, take shots and come back. And it still sounded a good idea in the morning. So, after breakfast, we gathered our stuff, our new waterproof jackets and walking boots, packed the car and set off down the valley to Hexham.
There is an even more local station nearer the cottage, but only has a two-hourly service through the day. A 15 minute drive to Hexham opens the possibility of half hourly trains, if we got bored in the city.
Two pounds to park the car all day outside the station, seven quid for a return ticket. A cheap day it seemed.
We had timed it just right, and 5 minutes after arriving, our train, a class 156, pulled up and we all got on for the half hour trundle into town. The line runs beside the river Tyne, and is very picturesque, even from a rattly diesel DMU.
We pulled into Newcastle, over Stephenson’s high level bridge, with glorious views over the river and city. It had just begun to rain, but we were prepared.
Outside the station, we looked up the wide street in front, and I saw a memorial, which should mean there was a square, maybe the centre of the city, so we set off, dodging shoppers and waiting bus passengers. However, we were thirsty. And hungry. And seeing an Italian ice cream parlour, we go inside to have breakfast.
I order sausage roll and a coffee: Jools has quiche. And a coffee. Now, that we did not specify what kind of coffee we wanted should have meant we got a cup of filter. Or so we thought. But what we did get was a cup of milky coffee, the kind that my parents used to drink, made with almost all hot milk, and horrible.
I tried to tell myself this was some kind of retro food experience, but my main thought was to drink it as soon as possible before a skin formed on the top, which would have made me retch.
Further up the street, we saw a sign saying ‘central arcade’; we thought it looked interesting and went in. Just as well we did, as inside it was decorated with splendid tiles, in a fine art deco fashion. In admiring them, we caught the attention of a woman, who engaged us in conversation. Turns out she was a guide, and for four pounds each would take us on a 90 minute tour round the city.
Sounded fair to us, so we paid, and our guide explained the history of the arcade and the surrounding area, all gentrified in the 1830s, which so resembled fine Parisian boulevards. It was a wonderful area, and the style, Tyne Gothic was very nice and almost chic. It has been renovated in recent times, and looks like it did when new, except for the pawnbrokers and other modern shops now occupying the ground floors.
We were shown the indoor market, the Theatre Royal, all the time heading down towards the river. We stop at The Black Gate, the old main entrance to the city, and next to it the Norman, or New, castle. I know that from the top fine views of trains arriving and leaving from the station could be had, and so I planned to return later in the day.
We walk down the old main road, the old Great North Road, as was, now a quit pedestrianised street, leading steeply down underneath two of the 5 bridges that cross the river. More history down there; merchants houses, where wharfs unloaded good from around the world, and just beyond, the once busy river.
That was the tour, we thanked the guide, and she said that along the river we would find many places to have lunch. We walked on, coming to a modern glass and steel building, a posh eateries and bar: looking at the menu, we both decide burgers were in order. So we go in, take a table, order drinks and our meal and watch the people. It is graduation at the university, and many people are in gowns, joyful with their friends and families, out celebrating their degrees and awards.
Our burgers were good, as were the drinks; Jools has a margarita, which was OK, but strong. Once we finish, I leave Jools on a bench as I cross the blinking bridge to snap the views along the river.
As the rain falls again, we walk back up the hill to the castle: I buy a ticket and go straight to the roof of the keep to snap the trains. But no Flying Scotsmen or Deltics this day, just the usual class 91, now rebranded to Branson’s Virgin company.
----------------------------------------------------
The Gateshead Millennium Bridge is a pedestrian and cyclist tilt bridge spanning the River Tyne in England between Gateshead's Quays arts quarter on the south bank, and the Quayside of Newcastle upon Tyne on the north bank. Opened for public use in 2001, the award-winning structure was conceived and designed by architect Wilkinson Eyre and structural engineer Gifford.[1] The bridge is sometimes referred to as the 'Blinking Eye Bridge'[2] or the 'Winking Eye Bridge'[3] due to its shape and its tilting method. In terms of height, the Gateshead Millennium Bridge is slightly shorter than the neighbouring Tyne Bridge, and stands as the sixteenth tallest structure in the city.
The bridge was lifted into place in one piece by the Asian Hercules II,[4] one of the world's largest floating cranes, on 20 November 2000. It was opened to the public on 17 September 2001,[5] and was dedicated by Queen Elizabeth II on 7 May 2002.[6] The bridge, which cost £22m to build, was part funded by the Millennium Commission and European Regional Development Fund. It was built by Volker Stevin.[7]
Six 45 cm (18 in) diameter hydraulic rams (three on each side, each powered by a 55 kW electric motor) rotate the bridge back on large bearings to allow small ships and boats (up to 25 m (82 ft) tall) to pass underneath. The bridge takes as little as 4.5 minutes to rotate through the full 40° from closed to open, depending on wind speed. Its appearance during this manoeuvre has led to it being nicknamed the "Blinking Eye Bridge".[5]
The bridge has operated reliably since construction, opening to allow river traffic to pass. It also opens periodically for sightseers and for major events such as the Northumbrian Water University Boat Race and the Cutty Sark Tall Ships' Race. One of the principal requirements for opening the bridge is to allow access to HMS Calliope where Royal Navy patrol boat HMS Example is based.
The construction of the bridge won the architects Wilkinson Eyre the 2002 Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) Stirling Prize.[8] and won Gifford the 2003 IStructE Supreme Award.[9] In 2005, the bridge received the Outstanding Structure Award[10] from International Association for Bridge and Structural Engineering (IABSE).
Bollards, known as the Vessel Collision Protection System, were installed when the bridge was built to protect it from collisions. However, the bollards became unsightly, and it became noted that they were not really needed. They were removed in March 2012.[11]
Tilt times for the bridge are displayed both on the bridge itself, and also on a page on the Gateshead Council website.
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
Wednesday
A day of rain.
And a trip to Newcastle.
Hmmmm, Newcastle.
We woke up at half seven, outside it was overcast with the promise of much rain through the day. We planned to go to Hexham to catch the train into the city, wander round, have lunch, take shots and come back. And it still sounded a good idea in the morning. So, after breakfast, we gathered our stuff, our new waterproof jackets and walking boots, packed the car and set off down the valley to Hexham.
There is an even more local station nearer the cottage, but only has a two-hourly service through the day. A 15 minute drive to Hexham opens the possibility of half hourly trains, if we got bored in the city.
Two pounds to park the car all day outside the station, seven quid for a return ticket. A cheap day it seemed.
We had timed it just right, and 5 minutes after arriving, our train, a class 156, pulled up and we all got on for the half hour trundle into town. The line runs beside the river Tyne, and is very picturesque, even from a rattly diesel DMU.
We pulled into Newcastle, over Stephenson’s high level bridge, with glorious views over the river and city. It had just begun to rain, but we were prepared.
Outside the station, we looked up the wide street in front, and I saw a memorial, which should mean there was a square, maybe the centre of the city, so we set off, dodging shoppers and waiting bus passengers. However, we were thirsty. And hungry. And seeing an Italian ice cream parlour, we go inside to have breakfast.
I order sausage roll and a coffee: Jools has quiche. And a coffee. Now, that we did not specify what kind of coffee we wanted should have meant we got a cup of filter. Or so we thought. But what we did get was a cup of milky coffee, the kind that my parents used to drink, made with almost all hot milk, and horrible.
I tried to tell myself this was some kind of retro food experience, but my main thought was to drink it as soon as possible before a skin formed on the top, which would have made me retch.
Further up the street, we saw a sign saying ‘central arcade’; we thought it looked interesting and went in. Just as well we did, as inside it was decorated with splendid tiles, in a fine art deco fashion. In admiring them, we caught the attention of a woman, who engaged us in conversation. Turns out she was a guide, and for four pounds each would take us on a 90 minute tour round the city.
Sounded fair to us, so we paid, and our guide explained the history of the arcade and the surrounding area, all gentrified in the 1830s, which so resembled fine Parisian boulevards. It was a wonderful area, and the style, Tyne Gothic was very nice and almost chic. It has been renovated in recent times, and looks like it did when new, except for the pawnbrokers and other modern shops now occupying the ground floors.
We walk along a narrow alley past pubs and old workshops, our guide giving us history behind the buildings. The world's fattest man lived and died here, King Charles 1st had dinner there. And so on. Until we came to Bigg Market.....
Bigg Market is where the young Geordie goes to have fun, or used to; according to our guide. It is not as popular as it once was, as many now go down to the Riverside. And Bigg Market is to be 'redeveloped'. So, this may be the last chances to see some of these fine old buildings, some of which now have demolition orders against them. All things must change. Apparently.
From Bigg Market, we walked to The Black Gate, the old main entrance to the city, then onto the New Castle, which gives the city it's name.
A day of rain.
And a trip to Newcastle.
Hmmmm, Newcastle.
We woke up at half seven, outside it was overcast with the promise of much rain through the day. We planned to go to Hexham to catch the train into the city, wander round, have lunch, take shots and come back. And it still sounded a good idea in the morning. So, after breakfast, we gathered our stuff, our new waterproof jackets and walking boots, packed the car and set off down the valley to Hexham.
There is an even more local station nearer the cottage, but only has a two-hourly service through the day. A 15 minute drive to Hexham opens the possibility of half hourly trains, if we got bored in the city.
Two pounds to park the car all day outside the station, seven quid for a return ticket. A cheap day it seemed.
We had timed it just right, and 5 minutes after arriving, our train, a class 156, pulled up and we all got on for the half hour trundle into town. The line runs beside the river Tyne, and is very picturesque, even from a rattly diesel DMU.
We pulled into Newcastle, over Stephenson’s high level bridge, with glorious views over the river and city. It had just begun to rain, but we were prepared.
Outside the station, we looked up the wide street in front, and I saw a memorial, which should mean there was a square, maybe the centre of the city, so we set off, dodging shoppers and waiting bus passengers. However, we were thirsty. And hungry. And seeing an Italian ice cream parlour, we go inside to have breakfast.
I order sausage roll and a coffee: Jools has quiche. And a coffee. Now, that we did not specify what kind of coffee we wanted should have meant we got a cup of filter. Or so we thought. But what we did get was a cup of milky coffee, the kind that my parents used to drink, made with almost all hot milk, and horrible.
I tried to tell myself this was some kind of retro food experience, but my main thought was to drink it as soon as possible before a skin formed on the top, which would have made me retch.
Further up the street, we saw a sign saying ‘central arcade’; we thought it looked interesting and went in. Just as well we did, as inside it was decorated with splendid tiles, in a fine art deco fashion. In admiring them, we caught the attention of a woman, who engaged us in conversation. Turns out she was a guide, and for four pounds each would take us on a 90 minute tour round the city.
Sounded fair to us, so we paid, and our guide explained the history of the arcade and the surrounding area, all gentrified in the 1830s, which so resembled fine Parisian boulevards. It was a wonderful area, and the style, Tyne Gothic was very nice and almost chic. It has been renovated in recent times, and looks like it did when new, except for the pawnbrokers and other modern shops now occupying the ground floors.
We were shown the indoor market, the Theatre Royal, all the time heading down towards the river. We stop at The Black Gate, the old main entrance to the city, and next to it the Norman, or New, castle. I know that from the top fine views of trains arriving and leaving from the station could be had, and so I planned to return later in the day.
We walk down the old main road, the old Great North Road, as was, now a quit pedestrianised street, leading steeply down underneath two of the 5 bridges that cross the river. More history down there; merchants houses, where wharfs unloaded good from around the world, and just beyond, the once busy river.
That was the tour, we thanked the guide, and she said that along the river we would find many places to have lunch. We walked on, coming to a modern glass and steel building, a posh eateries and bar: looking at the menu, we both decide burgers were in order. So we go in, take a table, order drinks and our meal and watch the people. It is graduation at the university, and many people are in gowns, joyful with their friends and families, out celebrating their degrees and awards.
Our burgers were good, as were the drinks; Jools has a margarita, which was OK, but strong. Once we finish, I leave Jools on a bench as I cross the blinking bridge to snap the views along the river.
As the rain falls again, we walk back up the hill to the castle: I buy a ticket and go straight to the roof of the keep to snap the trains. But no Flying Scotsmen or Deltics this day, just the usual class 91, now rebranded to Branson’s Virgin company.
----------------------------------------------------
The Gateshead Millennium Bridge is a pedestrian and cyclist tilt bridge spanning the River Tyne in England between Gateshead's Quays arts quarter on the south bank, and the Quayside of Newcastle upon Tyne on the north bank. Opened for public use in 2001, the award-winning structure was conceived and designed by architect Wilkinson Eyre and structural engineer Gifford.[1] The bridge is sometimes referred to as the 'Blinking Eye Bridge'[2] or the 'Winking Eye Bridge'[3] due to its shape and its tilting method. In terms of height, the Gateshead Millennium Bridge is slightly shorter than the neighbouring Tyne Bridge, and stands as the sixteenth tallest structure in the city.
The bridge was lifted into place in one piece by the Asian Hercules II,[4] one of the world's largest floating cranes, on 20 November 2000. It was opened to the public on 17 September 2001,[5] and was dedicated by Queen Elizabeth II on 7 May 2002.[6] The bridge, which cost £22m to build, was part funded by the Millennium Commission and European Regional Development Fund. It was built by Volker Stevin.[7]
Six 45 cm (18 in) diameter hydraulic rams (three on each side, each powered by a 55 kW electric motor) rotate the bridge back on large bearings to allow small ships and boats (up to 25 m (82 ft) tall) to pass underneath. The bridge takes as little as 4.5 minutes to rotate through the full 40° from closed to open, depending on wind speed. Its appearance during this manoeuvre has led to it being nicknamed the "Blinking Eye Bridge".[5]
The bridge has operated reliably since construction, opening to allow river traffic to pass. It also opens periodically for sightseers and for major events such as the Northumbrian Water University Boat Race and the Cutty Sark Tall Ships' Race. One of the principal requirements for opening the bridge is to allow access to HMS Calliope where Royal Navy patrol boat HMS Example is based.
The construction of the bridge won the architects Wilkinson Eyre the 2002 Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) Stirling Prize.[8] and won Gifford the 2003 IStructE Supreme Award.[9] In 2005, the bridge received the Outstanding Structure Award[10] from International Association for Bridge and Structural Engineering (IABSE).
Bollards, known as the Vessel Collision Protection System, were installed when the bridge was built to protect it from collisions. However, the bollards became unsightly, and it became noted that they were not really needed. They were removed in March 2012.[11]
Tilt times for the bridge are displayed both on the bridge itself, and also on a page on the Gateshead Council website.
The Halo: Reach t-shirt that I'm wearing came shipped as a brick nestled into the box I'm holding. We wanted to see if it held its shape after the plastic wrap was removed. The answer is yes. Unfortunately, it also holds all the wrinkles for a long, long time. Might want to go with a cotton/poly blend next time, folks.
If you're curious to see what the t-shirt looked like in brick form, you can see it here. Warning: the photo contains shirtless Dave. Some of you (i.e., my girlfriend) will be delighted. The rest of you might want to retch.
Thanks to buddy Rob for donating the shirt. Playing Halo with him last night reminded me of two things: 1) I suck at first person shooters, and 2) the internet is turning today's 15-year-olds into sociopaths. Seriously. I would have never tried pulling any of that crap when I was 15, mostly because in those pre-XBL days my fellow players would have been in the same room and would have just punched me in the face.
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
It was the name that did it. The label on the bottle said Wootonga and I just had to investigate. It was only 5 euro and it had a 19 volt kick. Wootonga, Australian sweet sherry.
It might have been fine if I had drunk it in small amounts as an after dinner tipple, but I drank the whole bottle in one go, and for some unfathomable reason decided to eat a jar of Ahti raw baltic herring in a mustard sauce to go along with it. Anybody would have thought I was pregnant.
Logic should tell you that Australian Sweet Sherry and raw baltic herring in mustard sauce is not a good combination, but let me just say that the unusualness of the flavours, the mingling of the sweetness and the bitterness was sufficiently interesting that three-quarters of the wine was gone and almost all of the raw herring before the nausea began to creep into my throat.
Having started a project I was loathe to give up, so operating on the principle of a "hair of the dog that bite you" I downed the remaining glass of Wootonga in one gulp and observing some onion rings and black peppercorns remaining in the raw herring jar I ate them as well.
It was when the molars crunched through the peppercorns that the projectile vomiting started, and after the stomach was empty the dry retching continued. There is nothing worse than the taste of sour bile in your mouth... well in actual fact there is... Wootonga and raw herring.
I'd have more pictures of the opening, but the both of us were too busy retching once the opening started. Like dumbasses, we began the process in the apartment. That lasted about thirty seconds. Once the hull gave way and the full force of the durian sensory experience began, we packed it up and ran down to the storage room of the building (we're assholes). This is not recommended, as any activity that involves you, a durian, and a closed space will result in victory for the durian. The taste wasn't so bad, kind of like a smokey custard. But the smell was so overpowering that we couldn't really taste it. Now when I burp? I smell durian. And the problem? Durian smells like a wet fart. A bad wet fart. The worst wet fart you've ever let. It's bad.
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
This dude has the worst job I have ever seen. He is on his hands and knees at the main intersection in Shibuya scooping cigarette butts out of the ashtray water with a colander and putting them in the other box thing. This literally made me retch just watching it.
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
A nice inn and an even nicer mercenary. It would probably have looked a lot better with an ENB. Oh well.
A Polaroid Picture a Day
Year 1
020309
34/365
Fever 103
Pure? What does it mean?
The tongues of hell
Are dull, dull as the triple
Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus
Who wheezes at the gate. Incapable
Of licking clean
The aguey tendon, the sin, the sin.
The tinder cries.
The indelible smell
Of a snuffed candle!
Love, love, the low smokes roll
From me like Isadora's scarves, I'm in a fright
One scarf will catch and anchor in the wheel.
Such yellow sullen smokes
Make their own element. They will not rise,
But trundle round the globe
Choking the aged and the meek,
The weak
Hothouse baby in its crib,
The ghastly orchid
Hanging its hanging garden in the air,
Devilish leopard!
Radiation turned it white
And killed it in an hour.
Greasing the bodies of adulterers
Like Hiroshima ash and eating in.
The sin. The sin.
Darling, all night
I have been flickering, off, on, off, on.
The sheets grow heavy as a lecher's kiss.
Three days. Three nights.
Lemon water, chicken
Water, water make me retch.
I am too pure for you or anyone.
Your body
Hurts me as the world hurts God. I am a lantern ---
My head a moon
Of Japanese paper, my gold beaten skin
Infinitely delicate and infinitely expensive.
Does not my heat astound you. And my light.
All by myself I am a huge camellia
Glowing and coming and going, flush on flush.
I think I am going up,
I think I may rise ---
The beads of hot metal fly, and I, love, I
Am a pure acetylene
Virgin
Attended by roses,
By kisses, by cherubim,
By whatever these pink things mean.
Not you, nor him.
Not him, nor him
(My selves dissolving, old whore petticoats) ---
To Paradise.
-Sylvia Plath
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
It’s been about a week since that episode in the bathroom. She’s gone easier on the juice, and she’s feeling a little better about her tummy. I didn’t stop her from stepping on the scale this morning, and she saw a 3.5 pound difference.
When she left, I took a turn on the evil hate machine, and I’m down a few myself.
My mom and I used to joke about our inability to lose weight, saying we wish we could have anorexia for just a couple of weeks. When someone has that virus and spends ten days vomiting, losing ten pounds in the process, we stand a little closer to her. (But we know, of course, that we’d find a way to squeeze the calories in through retching episodes.) I even took diet pills for awhile, but I got used to them instantly and started eating more calories. I even thought I was onto something when I invented “Tapeworm in a Jar.”
Or I could give up my 6:00 Red Hook ESB; the one at 4:00 should suffice.
We all have a scale story—one that we will remember forever, like the day in Miss Brown’s ninth grade gym class. I think of it every time I see a doctor’s scale or a locker room in a spa or health club. I am thankful that my story had a Dawn in it. Without her, it would have been just another painful memory of my ever-expanding waist.
I hope everybody’s kid either has a Dawn or is a Dawn. And I hope none of our daughters grows up to be or have the skinny friend.
– Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia
I love this shot, both in its simplicity and power. This old truck that appears abandoned in this vast, unforgiving nothingness. The Bolivian Altiplano has some of the most desolate and surreal landscapes in the world. It is a land of steaming geysers, fumaroling volcanoes, salt flats, and mineral rich polychromed rocks and pools. I got a little more acquainted with the unbridled nature of this place than I bargained for, however, when two days before this shot, our party departed from an already-high 9,000 feet and drove to 16,000 feet in just a couple of hours. I got an awful case of altitude sickness, causing my traveling companions—one of them a med student from the UK—to wonder if my groaning and retching throughout the night wouldn’t be the end of me. In the day that followed, my hearty appetite for exploration was sufficiently dimmed to keep me inside our SUV at most scenic stops. When you’re constantly having to get your driver to pull over in response to your fickle bodily demands, using prickly scrubbed open acreage with howling winds as your bathroom, and in this condition feeling every little bump of the poor roads along a two-hundred mile stretch as they pass undiminished through the shocks of your SUV, you might wonder if this was all worth it. Having begun my return from the dead by the time I arrived to this spot made for a bittersweet experience.
I couldn't remember what or exactly where this was. No Google Street View coverage of Tangier, but you can "hover" your mouse over the map and see thumbnail photos of the locality. Soon found it. This is the Bab-al-Kasbah, or Entrance to the Kasbah, photographed on Friday 7th August 1987. The locals are touchy about being photographed; most simply cover their faces when they see you raise a camera, but there were sometimes retching and spitting noises, and one or two vociferous denunciations. It was said (by the Clarkson's couriers) to be connected with the idea that to possess the image is to hold power over the soul. I suppose this notion is fairly widespread ...the voodoo pin and doll idea for instance. We smirk in our clever, secular way at such "superstition", but isn't something of this primæval belief latent in most people? We all feel slightly uneasy, or at least selfconscious ("oh, ah, OK then ...er, how do you want me?") when being photographed. Savvy after a few days in the city, I employed my nice Chinon 35mm M42 screw-thread lens, whose wide angle of view, I conjectured, would deceive the two chaps in the foreground into thinking that I was shooting past them.
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
SACRED
To the Memory of
DINAH the Wife of
JAMES MAXEY
Aged 45 Years
Also ELIZth SMITH
(her daughter by a former husband)
Aged 22 Years
Who on 20th March 1813
were suddenly deprived of life by
means of Poison secretly administered
to them, they were buried in one grave
There the wicked ceased from troubles
and there the weary are at rest.
Job 3. V17
There then follows some lines, some beneath the ground, the others unreadable, that are known to have suggested that the murderer of the women should come forward and admit their crime.
After enjoying their first cup of tea of the morning on 19th. May 1813, within a short time Dinah and Elizabeth were writhing in agony, clutching their stomachs
Mr Chander, surgeon of St. Faith’s, went to the house of James Maxey, and found the two women labouring under the most excruciating pain, with violent retching's, and in spite of his medicine, their symptoms increased.
On hearing that her sister was ill, Martha Yemms rushed to see Dinah and Elizabeth and was horrified to see how unwell both were. When she asked Dinah what she thought was wrong, she answered: “Oh, my dear sister I am poisoned, I am dying. I am poisoned with something that was put into the tea kettle, it appeared white". Martha asked her sister who she thought had poisoned her, she answered: “I think my husband, it cannot be anybody else because nobody has been here but ourselves".
All through the day and the night, the mother and daughter were in complete agony, and Mr Chander’s medicine proved to be no match for their escalating pain. Common ‘cures’ for the symptoms the women were showing, retching, vomiting, diarrhoea, convulsions, brown blotches and bringing up blood, would have involved more vomiting, this time induced with mixtures of milk, vinegar, linseed, sugar water and egg whites. But nothing could halt the progress of the poison which turned stomachs into a soft, pulpy, cheese-like condition in a matter of hours.
The next morning, Mr Chander returned and the women’s condition had worsened. Elizabeth was fading fast and, by the afternoon had slipped away. Martha was in the house when Elizabeth died, as was James, who came to see his step-daughter in her death bed, wringing his hands and weeping.
When Mr Chander came to the house in the early evening it was clear Dinah was entering the last few hours of her life, she told the doctor: “I am certainly poisoned, and dying". He asked who she thought had administered the poison but she refused to say: Just before midnight, Dinah died.
James spent the night in the house with his dead wife and step-daughter The next morning their bodies were collected and they were taken for post mortem. When the bodies were opened there was no doubt that the two women had met their end by poison with the mortician concluding that the poison in question had been a mineral compound, perhaps arsenic.
Ten days later, James Maxey was arrested and taken to Norwich Gaol, charged with the poisoning his wife and stepdaughter. On 1st. September he stood trial in Norwich for murder.
Witnesses appeared to give evidence, including William Hemmington of Hainford, who had employed James as a blacksmith for 15 years. He told the court that he had recently bought some “corrosive sublimate” for his business which he had used some of and placed the rest in a container in a cupboard in his workshop.
After the death of Dinah and Elizabeth, he checked the container, as he said a cat and dog had been poisoned near the workshop and he wanted to check his supply. When he looked, he was missing around a quarter of an ounce of poison. Hemmington was asked if James had known just how dangerous the poison was, and he answered: “No, I believe he did not know the properties of it.” He also attested to his employee’s conduct at work, saying he had given him no trouble in 15 years.
Elizabeth Furniss told the court she had been at the house as the pair had their tea, and both had told her that the water had looked “somewhat white”.
Acquaintance Sarah Steward had visited Dinah and Elizabeth shortly after they’d taken tea and had made some peppermint water for them as they were complaining of stomach pain. She used the water from the kettle which the tea was made from and, before she passed the drink to the women, she took a sip to test if it was cool enough. She told the court that a few minutes after she took a single sip her stomach felt "Fit to fly open", and she could not get about for nearly a month afterwards.
When James took the stand, he told the judge that he had never kept poison and knew nothing whatsoever as to why the two most important women in his life had died in such a terrible way.
The judge explained to the jury that although there was a great deal of circumstantial evidence, "All the links of the chain must be entire and its connection with the accused party obvious and necessary, before a verdict of guilt could be justly and conscientiously grounded upon him.” The judge then said that Dinah Maxey unquestionably did receive an impression that it was her husband who had administered the poison, however, she seems to have had no suspicion although she afterwards said she could not think it was anyone else, because there had been no other persons there. The judge continued that James never attempted to flee the house where his wife and step-daughter had died and he had slept in the house with their bodies, which was much in favour of the prisoner, for if he had been guilty of the crime his conscience, probably, would not have allowed him to have done so. Dinah’s assertion that her poisoner was her husband was, continued the judge, opinion and not fact and he felt that there was not enough evidence to prove James' guilt. The jury, unsurprisingly, agreed.
James Maxey went back to the house where the two women had died He ordered this gravestone that told their story and appealed for the guilty party to come forward. They never did.
Hainford villagers continued to whisper about James and he lived for the rest of his life under a veil of suspicion. It is not apparent if James is buried with Dinah and Elizabeth.
The gravestone, now partially hidden beneath bramble and undergrowth, is in the churchyard of the ruined disused old All Saints at Hainford, Norfolk.
So, my dad says to me,
"Why did you bring your big lens?"
And I said,
"Because I need the 2.8. I need the light."
And he said,
"Why don't you just use the flash?"
And after I stopped retching and gagging and writhing on the floor I said,
"I don't particularly enjoy flash light. It kind of sicks me out."
And he said,
"Yeah, but your 2.8 is a 70-200mm. You don't need that in here."
And I said,
"I know, but it's what I have that lets in the light. My new dream lens is a 50mm, 1.4."
And he said,
"I think I have that."
And I said,
"You have that!"
And he said,
"Yeah....I think I do. A 50 1.4, right?"
And with my jaw on the floor I said,
"Uuu haa a hihy wun don hur!?!"
which, if my jaw wasn't on the floor, would loosely translate to
"YOU HAVE A 50, 1.4 AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW FOR SURE IF YOU ACTUALLY HAVE IT!?! ARE YOU FREAKIN' KIDDING ME!!!"
Then he went and got it out from under the pile of t-shirts and computer manuals and DVDs on the great literary masters that he keeps on his office bookshelves and he brought it down to me.
"Is this what you're talking about?"
And I fainted.
And he said,
"I never use it. It's too bright, and it's got no depth of field."
And I swooned.
And he said,
"Here try it if you want."
So I did.
While in Death Valley I stopped my car, got out and took this picture of the road ahead of me which I was about to travel. It was this first moment stepping out of my car that I experienced the retched heat I was about to experience for the next few days.
Prayers needed.. now it's Georgie ... just coming back from the clinic, he was retching a lot and vomiting phlegm , so the dc took an x -ray , nothing seemed to be stuck in his throat which I was afraid of , lungs are ok but he found that his heart was not clearly seen, it sounds fine he said , but far ... so he will get the radiologist to interpret it and will give me a call tomorrow. In the meantime, he seems better with the analgesic, but I have to observe any reaction and take him back, this time to stay until we have the x-ray results. MM is much better btw . Thank you all in advance.
2014/06/07(sat)
Asshole Carnival Vol.2
at Earthdom
ANAL VOLCANO
Mecosario (岡崎)
Retch
GO-ZEN
SAIGAN TERROR
ZENOCIDE
DJ : LOVEJUICE
Taken the same day, this is me in Roman in Birkenhead trying on a royal blue v-neck, almost chiffony, top, hence the title which I will explain. well, in the Middle Ages, blue was reserved for royalty and those who were seriously fucking minted. So, if you were riff-raff or of the peasant class, forget it. Usually, whenever I’m in Birkenhead, I try stuff on in Next but they had nothing worth trying on, hence the reason why I darted into Roman.
Plus, I may be smiling but I’m on a downer really because it may be Christmas Eve but I’m not really a fan of the festive season – a time of forced jollity really. I suppose that all started to set in when I was ten because I can remember saying to myself at the time, “I don’t want 1982 to carry on and I don’t wanna die. All these glitzy, happy-clappy Christmas ads just make me want to retch because, for some, that’s NOT what the festive season is. It’s fine when you’re a kid (and if you’ve got them) but, for some of us, it isn’t really the season to be jolly.
As for the original description, I have no idea because, two years ago on 28 March, the account I had under the name of Barbara Cortina was terminated by Flickr for violating their terms and guidelines, without a word of warning (which they can do by the way). Not only did I lose nearly 2500 photos but also their descriptions, not to mention 11-12 pages of favourites and people who I followed as Barbara Cortina. It'll take ages to build up what I have left because half the photos are gone forever.
As Barbara Cortina, I'm no longer allowed to have a Flickr account, because, apparently, I violated their terms and guidelines but did they tell me HOW I'd done that? No. Many of the photos (including most of those I took while at Haven Lodge) are gone forever because I didn't think to back them up by downloading the relevant folders – it was really crushing. Right at the end of March, the same thing happened again when another account I set up (under Barbara C this time) got terminated as well...also without warning for violating their terms and guidelines (which I never did). As a result, I lost 2447 images but this time THIRTY-ONE pages of favourites. Again, it's really fucking crushing.
Wednesday
A day of rain.
And a trip to Newcastle.
Hmmmm, Newcastle.
We woke up at half seven, outside it was overcast with the promise of much rain through the day. We planned to go to Hexham to catch the train into the city, wander round, have lunch, take shots and come back. And it still sounded a good idea in the morning. So, after breakfast, we gathered our stuff, our new waterproof jackets and walking boots, packed the car and set off down the valley to Hexham.
There is an even more local station nearer the cottage, but only has a two-hourly service through the day. A 15 minute drive to Hexham opens the possibility of half hourly trains, if we got bored in the city.
Two pounds to park the car all day outside the station, seven quid for a return ticket. A cheap day it seemed.
We had timed it just right, and 5 minutes after arriving, our train, a class 156, pulled up and we all got on for the half hour trundle into town. The line runs beside the river Tyne, and is very picturesque, even from a rattly diesel DMU.
We pulled into Newcastle, over Stephenson’s high level bridge, with glorious views over the river and city. It had just begun to rain, but we were prepared.
Outside the station, we looked up the wide street in front, and I saw a memorial, which should mean there was a square, maybe the centre of the city, so we set off, dodging shoppers and waiting bus passengers. However, we were thirsty. And hungry. And seeing an Italian ice cream parlour, we go inside to have breakfast.
I order sausage roll and a coffee: Jools has quiche. And a coffee. Now, that we did not specify what kind of coffee we wanted should have meant we got a cup of filter. Or so we thought. But what we did get was a cup of milky coffee, the kind that my parents used to drink, made with almost all hot milk, and horrible.
I tried to tell myself this was some kind of retro food experience, but my main thought was to drink it as soon as possible before a skin formed on the top, which would have made me retch.
Further up the street, we saw a sign saying ‘central arcade’; we thought it looked interesting and went in. Just as well we did, as inside it was decorated with splendid tiles, in a fine art deco fashion. In admiring them, we caught the attention of a woman, who engaged us in conversation. Turns out she was a guide, and for four pounds each would take us on a 90 minute tour round the city.
Sounded fair to us, so we paid, and our guide explained the history of the arcade and the surrounding area, all gentrified in the 1830s, which so resembled fine Parisian boulevards. It was a wonderful area, and the style, Tyne Gothic was very nice and almost chic. It has been renovated in recent times, and looks like it did when new, except for the pawnbrokers and other modern shops now occupying the ground floors.
We were shown the indoor market, the Theatre Royal, all the time heading down towards the river. We stop at The Black Gate, the old main entrance to the city, and next to it the Norman, or New, castle. I know that from the top fine views of trains arriving and leaving from the station could be had, and so I planned to return later in the day.
We walk down the old main road, the old Great North Road, as was, now a quit pedestrianised street, leading steeply down underneath two of the 5 bridges that cross the river. More history down there; merchants houses, where wharfs unloaded good from around the world, and just beyond, the once busy river.
That was the tour, we thanked the guide, and she said that along the river we would find many places to have lunch. We walked on, coming to a modern glass and steel building, a posh eateries and bar: looking at the menu, we both decide burgers were in order. So we go in, take a table, order drinks and our meal and watch the people. It is graduation at the university, and many people are in gowns, joyful with their friends and families, out celebrating their degrees and awards.
Our burgers were good, as were the drinks; Jools has a margarita, which was OK, but strong. Once we finish, I leave Jools on a bench as I cross the blinking bridge to snap the views along the river.
This piece of shore is on a semi-secret peninsula whose beaches are nothing extreme, but it's a cosy place nonetheless. :9
With a fake sky.
*retches a bit and reflects that she would probably not have picked this photo for the Least shitty album if the latter had been created in 2013 instead of 2008*
#ItSeemedLikeAGoodIdeaAtTheTime
----------------------------------
Vegan FAQ! :)
The Web Site the Meat Industry Doesn't Want You to See.
Please watch Earthlings.