Boundary Mills and Ice buckets

Well the football on Saturday didn’t go as envisaged, Gateshead were beaten by Grimsby six goals to one. Heather and I went to the match via public transport catching the bus into town and then the metro to Gateshead Stadium. We had a good chat to some Grimsby fans on our way, conversing contentedly with away fans would rarely happen at a Premier League game I reckon. As we took our seats Heather informed me in breathless tones that “a girl from Geordie Shore” was sitting just in front of us, so as you can imagine this knowledge softened the blow inflicted by our dismal defeat. I’ve no idea who the girl is or what she looks like because I’ve never watched Geordie Shore, but lovely to be able to say that we’ve been in the presence of the great and the good 🙂

Grey Street
Grey Street

Following the match we went back into Newcastle for a pizza at Uno’s Uno’s. There was a good-natured stag party going on at some nearby tables. The lads were up from Bradford and had never been to Newcastle before, so we sent over a drink for the stag and answered their queries about where they should go to next. We’re not that familiar with Newcastle pubs anymore (getting old) but advised the Bigg Market and the Quayside. It was still only 7pm and the town was starting to get busy, far too busy for Heather and I, so we called it a day and went home.

On Sunday it was Boundary Mills with Mum who was in a very good mood. 
She insisted on having a cream cake for her dinner. My brother puts his foot down over her having cake in cafés instead of a proper meal, so I had a half-hearted attempt at arguing with her, but then I caved in.  I really do love her you know, I just find her exasparating.  My attention span in Boundary Mills is roughly an hour whereas Mum can spend an entire day in there unfolding everything.  Heather came with us too, and she and I ended up sitting in the coffee shop reading the papers and killing time.

Useless tat
Useless tat

Heather purchased the tractor wine holder you see here.  My life must now surely be complete, all I ever needed was a tractor wine holder and now I’ve got one. 

I mentioned above about getting old, and this must be true because the last Bank Holiday before Christmas saw in the opening of the new Morrison’s in Blaydon, and I’ve been unreasonably excited about this. Have you been yet? It’s huge.

Yesterday evening Heather and I took part in this ice bucket challenge craze that’s been doing the rounds. We were nominated by our friends Les and Emma and it was easier just to do the bloody thing rather than come up with excuses.  It turned out to be a hoot. Heather got dressed in her rabbit onesie and me in my football shirt and some shorts. Allison who lives next door came over with her Mam and they did the honours – pouring the water complete with ice. The ALS Ice Bucket Challenge went viral throughout a wide variety of social media platforms (particularly on Facebook) during late July and August of this year.

There have been more than 1.5 million videos pertaining to the challenge that have been shared on Facebook between June 1 and Aug. 13. One of the most long-staying trend topics, the awareness phenomenon was mentioned over 2.5 million times on Twitter between the end of July and mid of August, according to The New York Times. ALS is a debilitating disease that basically triggers a slow paralysis on those who are stricken by causing the nerve cells to stop working. It’s literally an on-going death sentence. With the exception of some cases like that of Stephen Hawking, most people who are diagnosed with the ailment will only live for two to five years. There’s no cure for the disease at the moment. The goal of the several groups affiliated with ALS Association is to raise money for research and patient services while at the same time raising awareness.

Text ICE to 70550 to give £3 to Macmillan, or visit   Macmillan

I shall endeavour to post the videos of Heather and I carrying out the challenge in due course (in other words just as soon as I’ve worked out how to do it).