I’m in a lot of trouble over the Blaydon Race. I strive to support Heather throughout her every sporting endeavour. I spur her on, sitting for hours in the car slurping Costa while she completes the Beach Assault. I stand around holding her jumper while she does the Stampede at Gosforth Park, and last Tuesday evening saw me rallying her yet again. I roughed it in the Bisley for half an hour watching the women’s World Cup, before dragging myself away to Shibdon playing fields to wait for Heather finishing the Blaydon Race. There I stood, in anxious anticipation, eagerly waiting to fulfil my promise to her that I’d record some fine action photographs. My patience was rewarded. I snapped some pictures of my friend Sarah, and a couple of shots featuring my work colleagues Louise and Ian. My eyes were straining nervously for sight of Heather, shutter at the ready, when a text came through.
“Where the hell are you?”
“At the finish waiting for you.”
“Where at the bloody finish?”
“At the bloody finish, the big blue thing that has finish written across the top of it.”
I’d been so busy looking for Danny Adams of panto fame that I missed Heather entirely. She had to settle for a post action shot of herself holding a bottle of Blaydon Race beer, the action shots of her storming the blue line are just going to have to wait until next year. See below for some of the photos I did manage to get.
We had another lovely evening last night, when for a change we thought we would have a proper grown up time in Newcastle. We went to our favourite film venue, the Tyneside Cinema, to see a British film, London Road, based on the murder of six prostitutes in Ipswich in 2006. Not so much the murders actually, but the effects upon the community that these horrendous crimes brought about. This was portrayed by transcribing interviews with the residents of London Road and setting their words to music. One of the lines I picked up on was, “He only lived here for ten weeks only ten weeks, only ten weeks.” This struck a chord with me, because I felt as if I’d been in the damn auditorium for at least twice that long. If you’re thinking of going to see this piece of cinematic excellence I’d advise you to take along a good book. Still, we had a very nice Chinese meal at the Wok Inn on Northumberland Road afterwards, then home in bed for 10pm. I’m knocking on a bit you know.