Before this trip I had never been to Newcastle, albeit I did have an opportunity whilst working in London in the early 90s. The Insurance company I was working for underwrote risk in the business sector and my role was to accompany the underwriters to assess the credit worthiness of UK steel companies, large and small. One particular underwriter, Tim, was one of those typical London finance execs of the time – one who believed the secret to understanding risk was to take clients out for very long lunches. I was, of course, an enthusiastic party to a great many of these sessions – but alas I was only just getting over a hangover from one particularly momentous lunch when the offer came to travel to Newcastle. I had to decline. Jo and I flew direct to Newcastle from Dublin and stayed with very good old friends Claudia and Geoff. Claudia was one of the original members of the Wellington Dutch Mother and baby group set up by Jolanda in the mid 90s. Claudia and Geoff live in a gorgeous old farmhouse in a village called Prudhoe on the outskirts of Newcastle – with rolling hills and farmland as a backdrop. Claudia is an excellent artist and textile designer – Geoff a tutor, gardener and budding beekeeper. One of the reasons for visiting Newcastle was to delve a little into my family tree. My Granny, who I was very close to, grew up in a house at 94 Osborne Rd. She married a naval officer and so also ended up returning to the family home when my Grandfather was at sea on exercises. She wrote a fascinating commentary on life growing up in Newcastle which we re-read whilst in Newcastle. The family home had five bedrooms, two nurseries and housed the family of seven plus at least 3-4 servants. Incredibly, but not incredible for the time, there was only one bathroom. Granny had great memories of the window washer removing the coaly grime, organ grinders and their monkeys, the cullercoats fishwives delivering fish (most food was delivered in those days) and general goings-on in the household and on the street. Osborne Rd is now quite a trendy area of Newcastle with cafes, shops, bars and many small hotels. We visited the house which has been turned into apartments (we counted ten doorbells) and wandered around the neighbourhood – including of course a visit to yet another charity shop where we added to our burgeoning collection of clothes for travelling. From Osborne Rd we travelled to the village of Ryton where my Great Great Grandfather was the rector. We found the Rectory house which is simply enormous (Granny remembers there being twelve bedrooms) situated next to the picturesque Holy Cross Church. The house was built in the time of Henry VIII and added onto over the years. It’s now spilt into two adjoining residences - knocking at both doors we introduced ourselves and were welcomed in for a coffee. An elderly gentleman called Robert remembered my Granny coming to visit many years ago and knew a lot about the history of the building. Amazingly we were shown a window with the name “Ella Baily” scratched into the pane – we later found out this was Granny’s aunt. Obviously those windows were fitted to last in those days . . . By the way, the photo at the beginning of this blog is taken in front of Ryton Rectory. My Great Great Grandfather is the one with the impressive beard seated in the middle. My Granny is at the bottom left.
The rest of our time in Geordie Land was spent feeling a little under the weather – both of us still getting over the bug we had picked up in Ireland. My recovery of course wasn’t helped after an evening with Geoff on the whiskey. But we couldn’t have picked a nicer and more welcoming atmosphere to convalesce in – see you in New Zealand in the new year Claudia and Geoff . . . From Newcastle our next destination is North Wales via a short stop in the Lake District . . .
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From the Netherlands to Ireland. Despite living in the UK together for almost four years in the 90s Jo and I never visited Ireland, instead taking the opportunity to head east to the Continent during our time off. A short 75-minute hop from Schipol to Dublin reminded us how easy it is to travel and how relatively close everything is in Europe. Dublin is seriously cool. With a population of 1.2 million (fifty percent aged under 25 which makes it the youngest city in Europe), Dublin sits on Ireland’s east coast at the mouth of the River Liffey. And with ten million pints of Guinness produced daily, it’s easy to understand Dublin’s popularity as a place to live and visit. We stayed with Mary who we met on a yoga retreat at Takaka at the top of New Zealand’s South Island. We phoned Mary just a few days before arriving and got told to cancel our bookings and stay with her. So there you are . . . Mary lives in Ballsbridge in a gated community (there are many in Dublin). From there we strolled into the city centre where we headed to Trinity College, officially the “College of the Holy and Undivided Trinity of Queen Elizabeth near Dublin” but try saying that after a few Guinnesses . . . Trinity College is Ireland’s oldest university and was established in 1592, modelled on Oxford and Cambridge. The Book of Kells is the main drawcard for tourists – an illuminated gospel book created around 800 a.d and described by some as the world’s most important medieval manuscript. To be honest I found it hard to get excited about a book behind glass surrounded by a crammed multitude of tourists. What really made it for me though was the magnificent long room in the old library – towering shelves of bound books housed in an oak panelled room. It was sort of like one enormous man cave and I felt like finding a leather armchair to browse a few of the books with a decent accompanying snifter of whisky. Not that one was on offer . . . I celebrated my birthday in Dublin accompanied by Jo and Mary. I opted for a traditional pub called the Bridge, which, filled with a great selection of craft beer, was definitely my kind of place. Gaelic football was on the TV, volubly watched by a number of the patrons. The sport is very similar to Aussie rules but played with a round ball - similar to volleyball. And just as thuggish . . . From Dublin we drove across the country to Westport, on the west coast. I was looking forward to sampling some country town atmosphere with music and a bit of craic. But as often happens with expectations, they were curtailed when I fell ill – and so my recollection of five days in Westport was largely of our Airbnb, a cute little farm cottage on the outskirts of town. Oh well – if you have to fall sick, there are worse places to do so than in the beautiful green countryside of Ireland . . . From Westport it was back to Dublin for a night staying at All Hallows, a University hall of residence made available for tourists during the summer break. The place reminded me of Knox college in Dunedin – heaps of character with its oak panelling and architecture designed in a day when style counted over function. Strangely, to stay at this magnificent building was far cheaper than any of the available alternatives close to Dublin airport. We felt privileged. From Dublin our next stop is Newcastle - Geordie country . . .
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AuthorHi - I'm Richard Norris. Jolanda and I are heading off overseas for another adventure in 2019. No real formal plans - but definitely a desire to seek something different . . . Archives
September 2019
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