Out With The Old - April Days In Manchester

Early in April I visited a friend in Salford for a few days.  That's not an unheard of occurrence.  It's been happening regularly recently.

On the morning that this post is published I will be returning to Salford to visit her again.  I'm writing this the evening before and have been looking back at photos wondering what to post about next.  And then I opened the folder containing pictures from that trip.

All of these pictures were taken on my old faithful phone.  I'd been ordered to get a smartphone so I could text with a friend for free using WhatsApp.  I am very glad to have bought it although it is quite a few months since I chatted with that friend.  That's a pity.  She was a great friend.  But people drift away and not everyone is meant to be a part of life forever.  That's fine.  If I hadn't bought that phone my last ten months might have been very different, for I have talked with my friend in Salford through many texts every single day since we met - apart from those days we've been together.  As I write this, it is ten months to the day since we met.  I am very grateful for that meeting.

What I notice as I look at these pictures is the following:

A.  I was really pleased with them at the time.

B.  Considering they were taken on what had been the cheapest smartphone in the shop eighteen months earlier I think I was doing a good job.

C.  The pictures taken more recently are often very much better.

D.  I wonder how much of the quality improvement is due to using the camera on a different phone and how much is due to my improving in taking pictures.  I've certainly taken a lot in the last couple of months.

E.  Every picture brings a memory and I am incredibly blessed to have so many pictures to look at from the last year and indeed from the whole of my life.

Two days after returning from Manchester, and largely due to a lack of memory on my trusty cheap Nokia phone, I ordered a new phone.  I have to say that I am very glad to have done so and have had an incredible amount of enjoyment taking pictures with it.  Out with the old phone.

Not long after ordering the phone, and two months before the date on this post, my relationship with my life changed subtly but immensely and since then I have hardly stopped finding things to point the camera at.  You can read about that day here - a trip to Northumberlandia - and here - a trip to Plessey Woods.

So.  Photos from that Manchester trip.

Starting to take photos early - just so I could send them on and say "I'm on my way."

This is Newcastle.  It's just not the prettiest picture of it.

Leaving Newcastle.  Onto the Tyne Bridge.

I took quite a few pictures with the phone.  Point.  Click.  And hope!

If you're wondering - this the the view from the front seat when travelling by Megabus.

Megabus from here to Manchester is a decent way to travel.  It's true that it's not as quick as the train and that the train may win on comfort.  But it can be much cheaper.

The trip that begins when this is posted is my cheapest yet.  £6.50 return, including that famous 50 pence booking fee.  My previous record was £9.50 and I was very pleased that time to get a one Pound ticket for the journey back.

Megabus means that my trips to Manchester are far more affordable.  [End of unpaid Megabus advertisement]

Still on the journey - not far past Sunderland - there were some wonderful cloud formations.  They didn't show up that well on my phone camera but they were pretty stonkingly awesome.  You'll just have to take my word for it!

We had a spare few hours one day before Amanda started work and she took me to Clifton Country Park for a little walk and to spend time together in the sunshine.  This is a bend in the River Irwell.  I confess that I just got sidetracked looking at the map on the park website and began planning days of walking along the nearby trails and towpaths.

The lake in the park is well worth walking round. It doesn't take too long and when we were there it was pretty peaceful away from the field and car park.

Manchester street art in the Northern Quarter.  By leaning back into a bus shelter my phone could nearly see all of it.  I wasn't in the northern quarter for long that visit - a previous post is devoted to some of the street art there.  This picture was new.  When I'd been there a couple of months previously another picture had been there.  An artist was repainting the wall next to this while I was there.

I love that there is so much art in that part of Manchester.  So far, it's my favourite part of the city centre.






On another day I visited Stockport.  I'd agreed to go swimming with Amanda.  She was actually working at the time but I could be there.  It was very daunting for me.  I haven't been to a swimming pool in a long time.  The last time I went I still lived as a man and went in swimming trunks.  This time I would go there as a woman and that was pretty scary.  Transphobic abuse is a common thing for trans people when they go to swimming pools.  Sad but true.  I knew that some people there would be viewing me as a bloke in a women's swimming costume.  Amanda was able to lend me a pair of her swimming shorts so at least I didn't have to worry about awkward bulges - not that this would have been too much of an issue having worked out how best to hide things so my possession of a penis wouldn't be so obvious.  [Too much information!]

Afterwards I had time for a wander in the centre of Stockport before meeting Amanda again.  I visited the charity shops I knew and then followed a sign pointing to an air raid shelter.  That was shut but then I found a quiet street of shops I'd never seen before, and some more charity shops.  Yay!

Afterwards I retreated to a coffee shop to drink tea.  Stockport had seemed to just be noise and not prettiness.  I was glad to have found that street and it suddenly felt like there might be some interesting things to explore.  A glance at a map suggests that following the rivers from the centre of Stockport would be something for me to try one day.  Stockport's got a hat museum.  I knew that anyway but then a character in The A Word on the television said that sentence.  Since hearing it I have repeated it more often than is usual.

On the final morning in Manchester, after a pretty fabulous time with some amazing unexpected surprises, I went with Amanda back to the Northern Quarter - it being very close to the Megabus coach stop.  We had talked of eating cake at a particular cafe but when we visited before it was far too loud for me and we had to leave.  That morning we went back and it still seemed far too loud.  Somehow or other a staff member recognised us from our thirty second visit a month before and led us through to a pleasant back room where there were no other customers at all, and she turned down the music for us.  It was a good place to be and we enjoyed our cake.  Or at least we enjoyed some of it.  The portions were so big that half of it went into a take away box.  Hoorah for big cake portions!

It had been a wonderful visit.  Wonderful.  Glad to be returning.  To close this set of old photos taken on a phone that seemed amazing to me then but now seems very limited, here are two more pictures.  One is the two of us, taken on Amanda's phone.

And then there's this one, taken in the country park.  We love bubbles.  I got incredibly excited watching them in the sunlight.  And then I stood and took a whole load of pictures of Amanda.  I include this one because it contains a big bubble.  But mainly it's there because there is such joy and freedom on her face and that makes me happy every time I see it.  Also: I quite covet the top she's wearing and I have worn it myself since then. 

There's nothing wrong with a good bit of healthy covetousness.

The End of Cuddy's Corse - Walking El Camino From Finchale To Durham, 9th June 2016

Those who have looked at my previous two blog posts will be pleased to know something:  There are no photographs of ruined abbeys in this post.  There are many photos but none of them are of ruined abbeys - or of ruined anything else.

Before leaving Finchale Priory I took another look at the River Wear.  It's a very beautiful, secluded bend in the river.  No wonder they decided to build their home in this spot.  I hope that in the midst of monastic life they were able to appreciate the glories of the world around them as well as the glories of their God.

From the abbey onwards the walk follows lanes and well made up tracks.  It's easy going.  The road from the abbey rises out of the valley quickly to reach the plain on top.

There's not much traffic, just that going to the abbey and the caravan park that's been added next door.  And two very high speed police vehicles with lights flashing.  Had I missed some exciting crisis at Finchale?  Probably not.  But while checking online I discovered something.





Two days after my walk there was a pilgrimage.  A gruelling four mile walking pilgrimage from Finchale to Durham, following the same route as I was.  People who completed the walk would get a special certificate to say that they had walked part of the English route of El Camino, the pilgrim walk to Santiago de Compostela.  The four miles would count towards the one hundred miles required to have officially completed the Camino de Santiago.

If I'd know I'd have been tempted to join the other walkers and claim my certificate.

It's not quite so crazy as it sounds.  It is believed that this was part of the pilgrim route through England that led across to France and then eventually to Santiago.  Unknown to me, I was walking this major pilgrim route or at least a small section of it.  It is also known that St. Godric of Finchale was one of the first British people to undertake the pilgrimage.

St. Godric.  He may have walked a lot but not everyone who walks a lot - and not every one who is a cleric - and not even everyone who gets canonised is necessarily a popular or pleasant person.  At least, Godric claimed he wasn't the best of souls.  His self deprecating self description can be found in this leaflet produced by The Northumbrian Society.


I had known that it was the route by which the body of St. Cuthbert was carried to Durham.  When the Vikings invaded Lindisfarne they did not disturb the coffin of Cuthbert and in AD875 the bishop instructed that the coffin be moved, together with relics of other Northumbrian saints and also the Lindisfarne Gospels.  They travelled throughout Northumbria and eventually settled down in community at Chester-le-Street.  The remains of Cuthbert have travelled around quite a few times since then.  His final journey was from Chester-le-Street to Durham - hence the name of the walk, Cuddy's Corse.

Wow! I have completely side tracked myself by looking up whether there was any major drama requiring that police presence.  Completely swept away in getting fascinated by St. Godric and Finchale and the journey of the long-since-dead Cuthbert and his incorrupt corpse that turned out to be very corrupt when someone looked inside the coffin and the story that Cuthbert's coffin isn't his real coffin which is in a location only known to three monks.  I have been fascinated enough to add books about County Durham to my wishlist.  I have too many books for me to read.  And I want more.  More!

Back to my walk.  At last.  Once out of the valley the long road to the abbey is flat.  The sun was beating down and I could see across the fields and - this being me - I spotted some trees to take pictures of.

The road from the abbey joins another road at a place which, just like a monastery, has walls.  But walls with a very different purpose.  These are the walls of HM Prison Frankland, which the walk passes.  I must admit that I was glad to be on the side of the wall that I was, being watched I'm sure via all the CCTV cameras as I walked right by the wall rather than following the actual path.  I thought, "I'm sure it'll just link up again" but it didn't quite!

A prison is what it is.

And near the walls beauty thrives.

Maybe beauty thrives in places within those walls too.

I continued my walk - or can I call it a pilgrimage? - along tracks until I passed a farm and joined another road that would lead me all the way into Durham.  It wasn't a busy road.  I was passed by a van that went up to the farm and returned, two cyclists and two people on foot.  And there were views.  Walking down the hill from the farm I could see Durham in the distance.  Journey's end.  A very easy pilgrimage.  I doubt whether Godric or the community that carried the corpse of St. Cuthbert had a tarmac road to walk on.

The first view of Durham, with the Cathedral standing proud on the hill.

And then from the valley, close to the river once more, there was this view that I particularly loved.

The poppies leading across the fields almost to Durham Cathedral itself.

It was a stunning day.  I'm glad that I'd looked up Chester-le-Street while passing it on a bus.  I'm glad that there was a link to Cuddy's Corse.  And I'm very glad to have decided to go out and walk it.

Even if the all day cloud didn't happen and I ended up sun burned!

Back to the River Wear as I walked into Durham.  Tranquil, welcoming.  I am counting myself so lucky to live in our country.  There is so much of beauty to look at.  So much history to learn about.  And even close to my home, and close to bus routes, there is an incredible amount that I have yet to discover.

I am greatly looking forward to more days, more walking and becoming someone who appreciates where she lives and explores as much as possible.

Into Durham.  The peace of the countryside replaced by the noise and haste of the city.

And to close, walk completed, Blob Thing and I had a well deserved rest at a cafe.  It's the same one we visited the previous week.  Both times it has been quiet and friendly - and this time we enjoyed a 10% discount having bought ourselves a loyalty badge for a Pound during the first visit.  Blob wants to write a blog post about both visits.  Anyone stumbling on this blog will be wondering why I've suddenly taken an excursion into being a complete lunatic.  If that's you, take a look here at Blob Thing's own blog, started recently after a request was received.  https://blobthing.blogspot.co.uk/

Continuation of A Surpise - Finchale Abbey, County Durham, 9th June 2016

To follow on from yesterday's post.  Here are a lot more photos of Finchale Priory.  Again, if you don't like ruined abbeys, look away now, because I'm not going to be writing much at all.  The pictures say more than my words would.  If you want a picture of me, there's one near the end.  If you want a picture of Blob Thing - who has already been blogging about his own experiences of Finchale - there's one near the beginning.

You will be pleased to learn that the post following this will not be about an abbey.  I really did enjoy finding the place - I had no idea whatsoever that it existed.  The low resolution one page PDF of the route that was on my phone said, in blurred letters, "ruin", but I had no idea that it meant something like this.  It's not quite as grand as somewhere like Tintern but it's pretty big and in some ways I preferred it to Tintern.  If you want more information about the place, the Wikipedia article is of interest.

Entry was free but English Heritage did at least make a tiny amount of money out of me.  I treated myself to an ice lolly.  A reward for walking miles to get to the place and having miles further to walk.

One thing did annoy me.  I went to the quietest part of the priory I could find to eat my ice cream.  I found litter.  Lots of litter.  It was obvious that a sizable group of scumbags had visited, that day or the previous, eaten their lunch and just dumped every piece of litter that they had.  Cans, bottles, sandwich packets, crisp packets and so on.  Yuck.  It's not as if there aren't lots of litter bins at the entrance to the priory.  It wouldn't have been hard for them to use them.  But that's not the point of course and even if there wasn't a single litter bin there was no excuse.

I am pleased to say I did a good job.  I had a good size carrier bag in my pack from a charity shop and I used it to collect every single piece of litter from the area.  Every one.  And then to take it all to a bin.  It only took me a few minutes.  It was an easy thing to do.  But it made a place beautiful again that had been marred and polluted by people whose behaviour was, on this occasion, shit.  Sorry to swear.  But it was shit.  [Note: I hate littering. Totally hate it.]

Apart from the litter, I loved Finchale.  And the litter wasn't the fault of Finchale or of English Heritage.  It was the fault of a particular group of uncaring people.  Those people were acting in an ugly manner.  Their ugliness is in stark contrast to the beauty of Finchale Priory seen in these photos.  I won't comment on any of them.  They speak for themselves.

Days of Gratitude - Cafes, Cakes, North in Newcastle, and Happy Hexham

 13^th June

Following in another Gratitude Group member's footsteps:

Grateful for free tea and cake at John Lewis. Grateful for a free way to fill an hour between appointments.

Grateful, although the service from the person at the counter may be cause for a complaint. I don't mind them getting it wrong but saying sorry would be nice - and is surely part of lesson one in basic customer service.

I won't be returning - unless I get another voucher!

Grateful too for the randomish person who gave me the voucher a few weeks ago.

Blob Thing certainly enjoyed his feast and will be blogging about it in due course. He is liking being a blogger even if no one appreciates his efforts.

14^th June

Grateful for the hundreds who were at a vigil in Newcastle last night to remember those killed in the mass shooting in Orlando. Grateful to have been able to be one of the many.

Grateful too for a walk. I had no idea where I was going but had left the house anyway.

A minute after setting out, clueless, Amanda messaged me about something so I asked her: North, South, East, or West?

She chose North. So I said I would walk North for an hour.

An hour later I was almost due North of my start point.

That worked out well.

Too many pictures. These are from that first hour. Overdoing it on pictures again!  There will be a blog post eventually.

North was a good choice.  Thank you Amanda for your wise decision.

15^th June

A couple of weeks ago I was struggling in town and headed into a cafe to hide and try to get my head in order. But I had a panic attack in the cafe and had to leave again. Fast. I then stood motionless in the street for the next quarter of an hour before having the ability, just about, to walk the maybe 20 metres to a bus stop to get home.

Grateful because today I was able to return to the same cafe and enjoy the experience and not have a panic attack or meltdown or shutdown.

That's not something I can take for granted.

I am glad that today the city centre was reasonably easy for me.

16^th June

Grateful for being able to take a trip to Hexham. Grateful for how much better things are right now than a year ago.

For wandering and exploring and finding some unexpected things.

For having photos for five or six blog posts for Blob Thing and one or two posts for myself.

For the Hexham charity shops.

I bought a course on creative writing that looks excellent.

A Fat Face dress.

And (sorry about my misplaced fringe and my skirt visible at the bottom: messy Clare!) for finding this dress.

I managed to buy something that Amanda really wants. And that is a very rare event.

 June 17^th

Grateful for a three hour lunch in a cafe.

For sitting with people I know while eating this £2.50 plate of food. And remembering why I stopped sitting in their groups.

And then, just about to leave for home, I heard my name. And sat with more people and ate cake. Yay for being social with a SA Newcastle Daily Gratitude Group member

So tired after all the social and was physically shaking on the way home.

But the social was good and so was the food.

I would prefer, on the good days, to be social for a while and then be exhausted afterwards.  Because I am determined to live.