Friday 20th – Sunday 22nd September 2019

Despite my smell the Geordie gave me a warm welcome in Newcastle, I mean the toon. Forgot they speak a different language and damn it, left my Geordie dictionary in oz.

If the Geordie was expecting a fun night out with Matilda he was a bit disappointed! I was rooted so room service and the first five minutes of the movie Dark Phoenix and I was out like a light.

Lucky for me, my Geordie friend, who has been mentioned before under many names, Pattie, Nora and possibly his real name David, is a good bloke and organized a weekend showing me my roots around England. The first stop was Askrigg where my Dad’s mum, otherwise known as Grandma, had family originate. The family also happened to be none other than those of the Terry’s Chocolates fame. Knew I had chocolate in my blood, explains a lot. I was kinda glad when the GPS of Nora’s Vauxhall, a kick arse car I’d never heard of, thought Vauxhall was just a tube station, anyway, GPS took us the scenic route into Askrigg, tiny tiny roads and gorgeous little villages. Nice for me who got to ooo and ahh at the pretty scenery, not so much for the Geordie who had to drive in a road big enough for one car, just, no idea what people do when someone comes the other way?? Driving into Askrigg poor Pattie had to deal with my millions of photos a minute habit but managed to navigate us to the town centre where I could jump out and explore. Such a weird feeling being somewhere you know your distant relatives walked the streets, drank at the pub, lived their lives. Really does make me want to go back and trace my grandma’s family history, ancestry.com here I come! After a pit stop at the pub of course…

BITC (hehe, that’s almost naughty but sure you have it figured out Mum), and we headed to Scarborough, a seaside town in Yorkshire where my Mum’s mum, the other grandma, went to boarding school. The English countryside really is gorgeous, different to Scotland but pretty rather than rough and rugged, and felt different listening to a soundtrack of Elvis and AC/DC rather than my hip hop and Aussie indie rock. Not complaining, love them too! The Geordie’s playlist of movie theme songs made me realize my head really was full, things were just popping out, like names of songs I knew but just didn’t know anymore. So is this what old age feels like???

Anyways, driving into Scarborough Nora had to put up with my ooos and aaahs again, especially when we rocked up at the hotel, a stunning old building right on the beach. Davie did good.

While the inside was something of a rabbits warren, I would have been jealous had we been staying anywhere else. It just so happpened that we’d made it to Scarborough in time for the Geordie to watch the soccer, sorry I mean football (I really mean soccer!), his Newcastle boys were playing a team that was gonna whip their arses apparently. Leaving the Geordie at the local I headed right for the beach, oh how I’d missed the ocean. Corfu felt like months ago!!

Scarborough was so not what I expected! Yes the beach I knew was there, but the Ferris wheel and cliffs and esplanade with casinos I had no idea. Very cool surprise!

What wasn’t a surprise was returning to the Geordie at the pub to find a goalless game… I get how skilled the dudes are that play but no score in 90 minutes?!? I need more action in my sport. A few beers in and the Geordie was ready for karaoke. For the record, I will never ever be ready for karaoke. For a dude with a thick accent I can hardly understand, he does a bloody good Elvis! Some McDonalds later and we called it a night, there may have been quite a few gins and beers between the Maccas and night but anyway…

Up and at it on Sunday, I don’t know if I was more excited about the bacon at the buffet breakfast or seeing more of Scarborough. Can we just say equally excited??? BITC and hooning around Scarborough we found the convent my grandma went to school at, THE most beautiful church and cemetery on cliffs overlooking the ocean and a fort. Winning!!!

On our trek back to the toon, we stopped off at the other beachside vacation town of Whitby, conveniently minutes before England and Tonga kicked off at the Rugby World Cup! No complaining from me, getting chauffeured around England to all the places my family are from, dude can stop for as many games as he wants! But once again, did leave Nora at the pub while I explored the gorgeous Whitby. What a picturesque town, a seaside village with ruins of a castle on the hill (no time to trek to) but did make it to the lighthouses for gorgeous views over the cliffs, ocean and back into then the town. Surely this is more interesting and beautiful than rugby reet?? I mean there’s even a replica of the Endeavour, how does anything compete with that???

At least this time when I found the Geordie it was good news, the English were winning, which given that that it was now my other homeland, I was kinda happy about too. I think I’m finally getting the gist of rugby, and might actually know the difference between league and union, union is the one with the scrums right?? If I’m not going to have AFL on the regular for the next year, I reckon rugby is gonna be my game. Exciting, tough dudes and there’s no way they can go a whole game without scoring points! Ok, I’m on the rugby band wagon, but now the question is, who do I support in the World Cup?? Australia, England or Scotland? I think I’ll keep that answer to myself as it may get me into trouble!

BITC and feck, my train leaves in 2 hours and we’re 1 hour and 45 minutes away from Newcastle. Nora didn’t seem all that bothered, gave me some reassuring words in Geordie that I couldn’t even repeat if I tried… well actually, I did try a lot that weekend to speak Geordie but like all my accents, just kept coming out Jamaican! On the leg back to Newcastle, or maybe it was before, at some stage there was the discussion that I’d keep thinking about for days, and change my answer multiple times. So if you could go to the concert of three bands or singers no longer together or alive, who would they be?? It’s harder than you think!! After lots of back and forth, Nora and I both agreed that Queen and Elvis were on the list, his third was Sinatra and mine was The Beatles. Bloody hard cos that means other epic bands and singers like David Bowie, Jeff Buckley, Janis Joplin, and Amy Winehouse don’t make the list. And since we were on the topic, next question was what three people that have passed would you love to have dinner with? Not necessarily all at the same time… I think the question may have changed part way through cos the Geordie picked Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King and the Dalai Lama, who obvs is still with us – my picks were Princess Diana, Mary Queen of Scots and Hitler. I know the last choice is controversial but as a psychology student, meeting someone like him that did so many horrid things, a conversation about values and morals would be out of this world, how he’d justify the atrocities he committed would be an interesting conversation. As would the conversation with all our other choices of course. In hindsight the dead people conversation may have just been a tactic to distract me from how close we were cutting it with time, it worked. At the station it was a quick good bye to the Geordie and I literally had 8 minutes to get into the station, find my platform and get onto the train. I made it in 5…. how I have no idea, a cross between running and shimmying through the crowd with a backpack, handbag and bag of other crap, mostly gin. Back in London, it did kinda feel like coming home. Mind you as someone that doesn’t technically live anywhere, wherever the roof is over my head is my home. But it’d only be home for one night, I’d booked a sneaky trip to Pisa and Florence the next day…