Monday 6 October 2014--Fairly miserable morning, but I'm determined to go for a walk--I want to walk south to the brewpub
in Low Newton, and maybe on to Embleton. Get all my waterproofs on, drop my laundry off over across the street, and head south
through town. I step out of the shelter of the buildings on the open bluff by the caravan park, and am met by the full force of
the south wind. Turn my back to it and stand a couple of minutes, trying to firm up my resolve...it's no use, the wind-driven
rain is too fierce.
Pick up my laptop at the B&B and go spend the morning in the café across the street. I have a toastie at lunchtime, and then retire to the Olde Ship, where I lose myself for two or three hours in Alexander McCall Smith's Edinburgh, with Isabel Dalhousie.
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Tuesday 6 October 2009--Finally found wifi at the George, here in Castleton. Dinner there was not gourmet, but was filling. The barmaid called me "m'love" every time I got a pint. She called everyone "m'love". "G'night, m'love," she said as I left. "G'night, m'dear," I answered. "Same time tomorrow?"
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The wind has died down some by 4:00, the rain has stopped, and the sky starts to clear. I walk out on the rocks at the edge of the harbor to examine the small stone hut near the end of the breakwater. This was a powder house used during construction of the harbor in the 1880s. It's a listed structure. Then I walk south past the caravan park and along the edge of the golf course, the beginning of the route I meant to walk this morning. I stop short of the beach curving down to Beadnell and look longingly toward Low Newton and the pint I can't seem to get to at the brewpub there.
Dinner at the Bamburgh Castle Inn, pints with my fellow geezers at the Olde Ship. I'm off tomorrow; as I did last year, I find myself thinking about whether I need to return to Seahouses. Probably not. I probably will, anyway.