I’ve been thinking about my past… No, it’s not deep and sordid, but it is interesting. I’ll have to sort though all those old photos of my travels currently in a shoe box under my bed and show you some. Highlights? Taj Mahal, Sphinx, Mayan Pyramids, Egyptian Pyramids, worlds longest reclining Buddha and to many castles to count. But I do like a good castle, especially a ruin that I can clamber around.
One of my favourites is the Priory in Tynemouth, the chapel of which dates back to the Thirteenth Century and the site itself is thought to have been occupied since Roman times. It has a moat which I was convinced used to be filled with crocodiles, a gatehouse and Keep with portcullis (for all that boiling oil) a well (for wishes) and a graveyard in the middle.
These days the only way in is through the box office and a hefty fee, but it didn’t always used to be that way. The Priory perches on the edge of cliff, overlooking the River Tyne and the North Sea. Bits of it have fallen into the sea over the years which is why they way I used to sneak into the back with my friends is now gone.
The sure footed among us could clamber up the cliff face and get into one of the old ruined windows. They’ve either been enclosed to prevent cliff side assaults by nimble kids or fallen into the sea altogether. Shame, there’s something quite magical about sneaking into an old ruin….
Why? Because in about 20 minutes, I’m going to get dressed – for almost sub zero temperatures and the threat of a blizzard – and cross several soggy and possibly icy British fields to get to the grocery store for nuts, wine and cat food. How can this possibly be happy? Well, for starters, I haven’t left the house in days and feel like I’m developing carbuncles on my backside. Secondly, it’s a celebration. ‘The child’ left this morning and won’t be back till Sunday, along with all the other pesky relatives, and my mother’s bible study will be over for the week by the time I get back (I hope). The cat is exhausted and cranky from avoiding the grasping sticky fingers of ‘the child’. So about 5pm on a Tuesday, the residents of the retreat here on Chicken Road collapse, exhausted and indulge in our favourite tipple. For me, it will be a glass of wine and a bag of mixed nuts. Happy Tuesday!