Saturday, 12 July 2014

L'Angleterre Profonde

It was a warm, sunny evening and we sat outside reading the Sunday papers, aperitifs in hand and a BBQ at the ready. Apart from a few playful rabbits, we had the meadow to ourselves. We had earlier completed a walk around the Tees valley, taking in some pretty views and meeting no one but a gaggle of randomly dressed teenagers lugging huge rucksacks who, from previous experience, we took to be a group of Duke of Edinburgh Award hopefuls. And now, after a brief negotiation with a farmer, we had secured a bucolic overnight site for our campervan and were enjoying the benefits of a temporary tenancy with unimpeded views over swathes of green, rolling countryside. Behind us was the imposing ruined core of 12th Century Bowes castle, beside us a stretch of the Pennine Way - although no hikers came by that evening. In fact the only intrusion was the sound of traffic from the invisible but not-so-distant A66: that and a solitary 'ding-ding' from my Nokia notifying me of an incoming text message.

The purpose of our trip to the North East was threefold: to pay our first visit to the Baltic Centre for Contemporary Arts, to hike in or around the Tees Valley and to avoid being stuck at home, in front of the TV, watching the Wimbledon men's final. When I conceived the idea, however, I had not realised that our route through Yorkshire would be complicated by road closures and diversions on account of yet another sporting fest - Le Tour de France. (Yes, I am naive enough to imagine that a French cycle race would have not the slightest impact on my life.) And so, to offset this unfortunate timing, we set off a day early.

I have since forgiven the French for the inconvenience, having read a piece by one of their journalists admitting to their collective ignorance of the charms of l'Angleterre profonde  (the sun had been shining in Yorkshire that day) and comparing it favourably with their own hinterlands. If they get as far as the North East, they will discover that it too is a very attractive region. Anthony Gormley's massive, rusting Angel of the North dominates the low hills south of Gateshead seeming to say "You have arrived at a significant place" and, sure enough,  a few miles further north you cross one of the Tyne's spectacular bridges into the centre of Newcastle where the steep topography displays to dramatic advantage streets lined with magnificent stone buildings. They are impressive but, when you consider that one end of Hadrian's Wall is still visible nearby, you realise that they represent just one layer of the important history of this place.

The waterfront of Newcastle reflects the passing of its industrial economy - people now live in converted and newly built apartments; hotels and restaurants occupy some of the prime locations - and the Baltic Centre itself, once a flour mill, has become a tourist destination. Unfortunately I had, in my haste to get away, neglected to check the programme of exhibitions and was disappointed to find two of the three galleries closed for re-hanging, the top floor closed to all except customers buying tickets to ride a zip-wire across the river and the terrace bar reserved for the exclusive use of wedding guests. Fortunately the fine weather made an alternative walking tour of the city both feasible and enjoyable.

Back in the meadow, we were talking about the importance of forward planning, especially in the case of our up-coming trip to Nice on September 5, when that text message arrived. It was from my Finnish friend whom I last spoke to a year ago. It read "Fancy joining me with vacation trip to Nice on Sept. 4 - 9?"

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