For the first time in over a week I want and feel able to write again, and although the air has been a cool, the sun has been shining brightly for several days, and for several hours from dawn when I awoke and rose, the sky has been cloudless.
I went out to place a notice of thanks in the local evening paper, to purchase books of first class stamps and to obtain some cash and bank statements. From the post office, en route to the offices of the newspaper I passed the attempt to improve the attractiveness of local shopping through the development of a BHS, Desire at Debenhams, River, and Next, and decided to see the what was offer for men, having unexpectedly found a quality but inexpensive off the peg suit at the Newcastle store last Thursday evening, and discovered that the Sunderland store was closed until January because of a fire. Alas I was disappointed because while the Shields store has two floors and caters for boys, it does not for adult males. A similar situation to that at the Marks & Spencer's which reflects the population structure of the town. However the visit was not a total waste because I enjoyed an excellent cup of coffee and a Danish type slice, and a chat with assistants over the comparative rarity of a male being in store.
This comfort break was needed to prepare myself for the cost of saying a public thank you to the staff at the District General Hospital, the Residential Care Home, the community Medical and Nursing staff, the Priest and his parishioners, and the Funeral Directors who between them had made the last three years of my mother's long life the happiest for both of us and her last physical days joyous.
It was only when making way to Funeral Firm a week ago, and saw the road closure signs and diversions for Sunday's Great North Run that I realised the difficulty there would be finding accommodation and getting out and about on the day. The present population of the town is 90000 and the advance publicity for the Run mentioned that close on 50000 participation forms had been distributed which meant that with everyone having an average of one supporter and the number of volunteer helpers and organisers there could be more of them than us. Much like what happens at Seaburn Sunderland when a population of thousands become swamped by at least a quarter of a million people on each of two days, the approach of the locals is to go away for the day, or stay home or take a peak at the crowds, although as the air show took place a few years from my former home, and the road outside was filled with three lanes of buses in one direction, windows shaking as jet fighters zoomed away, and long lines of visitors clutching giant toys won in raffles, it was impossible to pretend nothing was going on.
The problem which the run created is that main dual carriage way route to Newcastle, and the two main routes to Sunderland are closed and with only one way to get from north to south and vice versa between coast and river Tyne along its banks to Jarrow where the road Tunnel takes you the North Bank and across to Newcastle if you wish, or South on the A19 dual carriage to Sunderland, over-passing the runners. My problem was how to get from my home to where my mother was in Chapel during the afternoon, and I quickly abandoned my car in a town centre car park when it was evident I would have to spend valued time in an increasing traffic jam as vehicles commenced to make their way to the only exist route. The war was not only good for me but provided opportunity to encounters several hundred happy but tired faces as they made their way to join the amazing queue I could see of those waiting to for the shuttling ferries and then the even more extraordinary spectacle of thousands orderly queuing at the two Metro train entrances entertained by a live band. I had great sympathy as one, I assume partner, consoled one exhausted participants as they unknowing headed for the station, just think how all this exercise is good for you.
It had been a warm day and my first task on reaching the Chapel of rest was to remove my soaking shirt and button up my out jacket. Later my concern was how to get to the bus station to meet the London coach as a preliminary check confirmed that all the outward traffic was now blocking all exits for my almost hill home with the coast and river on three sides. Fortunately within 30 mins of the arrival time the police diverted the traffic to a different route and I had I now difficulty in getting to the arrival point, and knew the only way to reach the hotel without meeting the escaping vehicles on their redirected homeward journey's.
I have to admit I watched the BBC showing of the event in the morning while I made last minute preparations, interspersed with a re run of the Japanese Grand Prix which he won and barring a disaster in the final two races secured him, and GB, the World Championships Driver's title. The retirement of Lady Tanni Grey took away something from the wheel chair race although she was on the course handing out bottles of water. It was good to see Paula Radcliffe back although she was soundly beaten by rising star Kara Goucher from the USA who broke her national record for the distance.
The main run was started by Sir Bobby Robson who had to give up shaking hands of those who passed closest to him after the first ten thousand or so, although the number who started and completed the full distance was about 25% less than those who were registered.
The most sad and moving of the personality stories was the reason why Sir Christopher Chataway was making a special effort this year. In 1954 while I was still at school I went to the White City athletics stadium and watched Christopher Chataway break the world 5000metres world record although I was about as far away from the finishing line as anyone could be. He then became the first BBC sporting personality of the year. His son was engaged to a young woman who worked on the promotional side of Chelsea Football club and worked in a water aid project in Africa when at Newcastle University. She was knocked down one day or her way to work and died. Father, son and some 190 friends and supporters were competing in order to raise sufficient to complete a new water project.
Bubbly three times married Carole Vorderman told the story of her welsh mother and family background at Prestatyn in the latest Who are you? programme and then moved on to travelling to Holland to find out if the father, she had first agreed to meet in 2002 when she was forty, he having left the family within weeks of her birth, had worked as in the resistance as a very young man. She discovered that he had risked his life listening to the radio on the progress of the allies and helping to print and distribute leaflets which passed on the information. He died before she could report on her discoveries about him.
I went out to place a notice of thanks in the local evening paper, to purchase books of first class stamps and to obtain some cash and bank statements. From the post office, en route to the offices of the newspaper I passed the attempt to improve the attractiveness of local shopping through the development of a BHS, Desire at Debenhams, River, and Next, and decided to see the what was offer for men, having unexpectedly found a quality but inexpensive off the peg suit at the Newcastle store last Thursday evening, and discovered that the Sunderland store was closed until January because of a fire. Alas I was disappointed because while the Shields store has two floors and caters for boys, it does not for adult males. A similar situation to that at the Marks & Spencer's which reflects the population structure of the town. However the visit was not a total waste because I enjoyed an excellent cup of coffee and a Danish type slice, and a chat with assistants over the comparative rarity of a male being in store.
This comfort break was needed to prepare myself for the cost of saying a public thank you to the staff at the District General Hospital, the Residential Care Home, the community Medical and Nursing staff, the Priest and his parishioners, and the Funeral Directors who between them had made the last three years of my mother's long life the happiest for both of us and her last physical days joyous.
It was only when making way to Funeral Firm a week ago, and saw the road closure signs and diversions for Sunday's Great North Run that I realised the difficulty there would be finding accommodation and getting out and about on the day. The present population of the town is 90000 and the advance publicity for the Run mentioned that close on 50000 participation forms had been distributed which meant that with everyone having an average of one supporter and the number of volunteer helpers and organisers there could be more of them than us. Much like what happens at Seaburn Sunderland when a population of thousands become swamped by at least a quarter of a million people on each of two days, the approach of the locals is to go away for the day, or stay home or take a peak at the crowds, although as the air show took place a few years from my former home, and the road outside was filled with three lanes of buses in one direction, windows shaking as jet fighters zoomed away, and long lines of visitors clutching giant toys won in raffles, it was impossible to pretend nothing was going on.
The problem which the run created is that main dual carriage way route to Newcastle, and the two main routes to Sunderland are closed and with only one way to get from north to south and vice versa between coast and river Tyne along its banks to Jarrow where the road Tunnel takes you the North Bank and across to Newcastle if you wish, or South on the A19 dual carriage to Sunderland, over-passing the runners. My problem was how to get from my home to where my mother was in Chapel during the afternoon, and I quickly abandoned my car in a town centre car park when it was evident I would have to spend valued time in an increasing traffic jam as vehicles commenced to make their way to the only exist route. The war was not only good for me but provided opportunity to encounters several hundred happy but tired faces as they made their way to join the amazing queue I could see of those waiting to for the shuttling ferries and then the even more extraordinary spectacle of thousands orderly queuing at the two Metro train entrances entertained by a live band. I had great sympathy as one, I assume partner, consoled one exhausted participants as they unknowing headed for the station, just think how all this exercise is good for you.
It had been a warm day and my first task on reaching the Chapel of rest was to remove my soaking shirt and button up my out jacket. Later my concern was how to get to the bus station to meet the London coach as a preliminary check confirmed that all the outward traffic was now blocking all exits for my almost hill home with the coast and river on three sides. Fortunately within 30 mins of the arrival time the police diverted the traffic to a different route and I had I now difficulty in getting to the arrival point, and knew the only way to reach the hotel without meeting the escaping vehicles on their redirected homeward journey's.
I have to admit I watched the BBC showing of the event in the morning while I made last minute preparations, interspersed with a re run of the Japanese Grand Prix which he won and barring a disaster in the final two races secured him, and GB, the World Championships Driver's title. The retirement of Lady Tanni Grey took away something from the wheel chair race although she was on the course handing out bottles of water. It was good to see Paula Radcliffe back although she was soundly beaten by rising star Kara Goucher from the USA who broke her national record for the distance.
The main run was started by Sir Bobby Robson who had to give up shaking hands of those who passed closest to him after the first ten thousand or so, although the number who started and completed the full distance was about 25% less than those who were registered.
The most sad and moving of the personality stories was the reason why Sir Christopher Chataway was making a special effort this year. In 1954 while I was still at school I went to the White City athletics stadium and watched Christopher Chataway break the world 5000metres world record although I was about as far away from the finishing line as anyone could be. He then became the first BBC sporting personality of the year. His son was engaged to a young woman who worked on the promotional side of Chelsea Football club and worked in a water aid project in Africa when at Newcastle University. She was knocked down one day or her way to work and died. Father, son and some 190 friends and supporters were competing in order to raise sufficient to complete a new water project.
Bubbly three times married Carole Vorderman told the story of her welsh mother and family background at Prestatyn in the latest Who are you? programme and then moved on to travelling to Holland to find out if the father, she had first agreed to meet in 2002 when she was forty, he having left the family within weeks of her birth, had worked as in the resistance as a very young man. She discovered that he had risked his life listening to the radio on the progress of the allies and helping to print and distribute leaflets which passed on the information. He died before she could report on her discoveries about him.
For me the most interesting aspect of the programme was the recently walked coastline filmed from a helicopter. I am not yet ready to write an account of this year's walk to accompany the photos, but nearly. I repeated some of the walk in the sunshine on Monday afternoon; it was an affirmation of life and death.
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