17. Durham

CC Site

April 21^st - 24^th

     About forty miles here from Stokesley, where I had been staying with my nephew and his family. The route took me up the A19, right through the middle of Teesside with its quaint industrial architecture. I was very early to book-in, so went further up the

     A1(M) to Washington, where I used to work in the 'Seventies and 'Eighties. Our three factories, which were brand new in 1974, are all derelict, as is most of the industrial estate around them. The only businesses flourishing were Makro, the wholesaler to the small shop-keeper and Kuehne and Nagel, the shippers. Thanks to Thatcher that's our economy now, discounting stuff other people have made and sending it somewhere else. This area was the land of Parsons, Vickers and Austin and Pickersgill, heavy engineering and shipbuilding to go with the coal-mining. The road sign announcing Washington said “Welcome to the original Washington”. Nice one.

I    I also popped in to Chester-le-Street and had a look at Durham's county cricket ground, the Riverside Stadium, which now promises to be a regular test cricket site. It's wonderful, very impressive and nicely done, unobtrusive and in a lovely setting of parkland and lots of trees right by the River Wear (pronounced “Weir”, by the way). It looked as if there was a match on to-day, so I might go and watch tomorrow if it's a bit warmer.

    Talking of coal-mining, I changed the bedding in the van to-day. It's a terrible job, as you have to climb the ladder into the space over the cab and struggle on your knees with sheets, pillows and the duvet with about two feet of headroom. Two feet of headroom is fine for sleeping, but is very tight for crawling around. It's a good job I change the linen only once a year. Just kidding!

      Oh God, I've just found out that the Durham cricket ground is called “The Emirates Stadium”. Does that mean a fatwah will descend on my head? Oh no, so much to do, so little time. 



The Sanctuary Knocker

 



Durham Cathedral

   

        Heavy rain this morning, the first for quite some time. A change of plan was indicated. No Durham/Somerset cricket for me to-day. Instead I walked to the Belmont Park and Ride and caught the bus into the city. To get to the bus stop I had to cross two slip-roads of the A1(M), which wasn't nice. At times like this you realise how few, how very few, motorists indicate their intentions at roundabouts. In my new trim shape, however, I was lightning off the blocks.

 

 

     On arriving in the city I asked the driver where I could catch the bus back. “I'll show you”, he said, and got out of the bus to show me where the stop was. This is the sort of thing which almost makes life worth living. The day was cold with intermittent torrential rain and I had forgotten my camera, so I limited myself to food shopping and checking out the bus station. I did, however, see the awesome sight, surely the finest in urban Britain, of the castle and the cathedral looming over the river Wear from Framwellgate Bridge. I shall remember my camera tomorrow. Fool!

     I found “The Shakespeare”, a great old single-frontage pub dating from 1109 and consisting of two tiny bars. They used to serve draught (i.e. real) Newcastle Exhibition, rarer than hens' teeth. It was nicknamed “Execution” (not “Journey into Space”, that was Newcastle Brown Ale) and was absolutely lethal. Ah, the happy highways where I went and cannot come again, my salad days when I was green in judgement (and very often around the gills, too). It's being refurbished and guess when the refurbishment started; yes, you got it, the day before I arrived. I was only going to take   a photo, anyway, honestly your honour. 

     Pleasant sunny day (Wednesday); walked into the city along the river, about three miles. Absolutely beautiful, through

woods with a carpet of wood anemone and wild garlic and a woodpecker banging away over my head like John Humphreys at a politician. Had a good look round the cathedral, but my enthusiasm has waned. It used to be my favourite, but now, having seen so many other examples, I find it rather butch and brutalist. It really suits Durham, though, which was the seat of the Prince Bishops. These were the Bishops of Durham who were given special powers by the Crown which allowed them to do pretty much what they wanted, which in those days normally meant imprisoning, torturing, murdering and expropriating anybody and anything they chose. These saintly clerics were pretty tough fellows in those days; the Archbishop of York led the English army against the Scots at Northallerton in the Battle of the Standard in 1138, having said that it was God's work to withstand the Scots (no comment). I can imagine Rowan Williams riding at the head of an army with beard and hair flowing and looking like Gandalf on Shadowfax, but this new Welby bloke looks a bit of a wuss. When you enter County Durham the sign says “County Durham – Land of the Prince Bishops”. This can be translated as “Abandon hope all ye who enter here” or “Keep your hand on your wallet” and is the equivalent of “Welcome to the Land of the Russian Mafia Oligarchs”.



The castle and cathedral and Framwellgate Bridge



Extended heavy rainstorm in the night, the noise on the roof preventing me from sleeping for three hours. Desperate straits; I have no book to read as my trawl of charity shops in Durham drew a blank yesterday. I must say I've never seen a university city with such a paucity of bookshops. I was desperate enough to consider buying a new book and went into Waterstone's. It's pathetically small and almost the whole of the ground floor is taken up by “university merchandise”, fleeces, sweatshirts, mugs, scarves, etc. everywhere. I'm a simple soul and expect a bookshop to have books. I left muttering oaths. I even considered looking in W H Smith, but managed to stop myself. It might have triggered a heart attack or a violent rage. My hopes rest on the charity shops of Sunderland.

      Great bus ride to Sunderland from Durham. At West Rainton, a pretty former pit village, a sign saying “No Opencast Mine Here”. Is that ironic? Not sure, but it's something or other. From East Rainton, a not so pretty former pit village, a splendid view of the Penshaw Monument above Washington. This 70 foot high folly is a replica of the Temple of Hephaestus (the Greek Vulcan) in Athens and can be seen for miles around. It is considered to be Wearside's most beloved landmark, even appearing on the badge of Sunderland Football Club. Through Rainton Business Park, where one huge block might have been the HQ of NPower and another had a sign saying “Sunderland Software City”. Coming into Sunderland, on the left a pub called “The Board”. I thought it a strange name and wondered what the pub sign was; a plank? I found out on the way back and it was a chess board with a game set-up. Nice. On the right, St. Chad's church; there are lots of St. Chads in the North but I can't remember having seen any down South. Then a large house with a sign announcing “The Home of Life Transformational Dentistry”. What a fantastic boast! Then, last but not least, a long single storey building with a verandah the length of the front, two old lads reading their papers on it and a sign saying “Aged Miners' Home”. Brilliant!

     The previous time I had gone to Sunderland was via Hylton Castle and alongside the Wear and by the shipyards. I think I'm right in saying Sunderland had the largest shed for building a ship entirely under cover. In 1978, 7,500 people worked in the yards, but within ten years the last yard had closed. Because the river isn't wide enough, they used to launch new ships beam-on rather than stern-on, which is quite unusual.

     I was thinking about this when unfortunately I arrived. I'm sorry to be so harsh, but Sunderland is a disastrous mess. It's the ugliest place I've ever seen since I went to Consett in 1975. As usual, I went to the Tourist Information office to get a street map. It was in the council offices and was a table with a few leaflets on it. The man at reception told me the office had been closed. There wasn't a street map. I asked “Do they not want anyone to come here, then?” He laughed in a really sad way. It was awful and I went away with a heavy heart. The sad thing about the whole mess was that there were some very impressive buildings in the wide and rather dignified main street, five storeys, stone and with lots of nice Victorian frilly bits. They were good enough to be in Regent Street or the King's Road. Unfortunately the shops on their ground floors were boarded-up. I took a photo of an atrocious Poundland. Well, at least the football team is not the worse thing about Sunderland.

The only good thing about the Tourist Information Table was a book for sale about Sunderland Football Club with, on its cover, the club's great Republic of Ireland centre-half Charlie Hurley. With his film-star looks, tackle that would stop a rhinoceros in full charge, commanding aerial presence and silky footballing skills, unique for a centre-half in the 1950's and 1960's, Hurley was the hero of Wearside. He was also the hero of my English teacher in the third form, Jerry Hanratty, who was from Jarrow just up the road. I took a full-page colour photo of Hurley from “Football Monthly” into school. Jerry was delirious and stuck it up on the wall of the classroom. What a creep I was, but I got a really good report that year. Jerry used to call me “Basil”. 

 

 

Now, about UKIP and their campaign poster. There are 26 million unemployed in the EU, 2 million of them in the UK. Any of the 24 million can come to the UK to seek work. We have no idea how many will come; indeed we have no idea how many have come already. The benefits? More freely available cheap labour. The costs? Additional strain upon the infrastructure, upon the health, housing, education and transport systems. So cui bono? Owners, employers and capitalists and the government will use the benefits of cheap labour to depress wages. Since themselves they have the means to buy health insurance, their own houses, to send their children to private schools, since they do not use public transport and can afford to employ cheap domestic servants, there will be no down side for them. For the rest of us, the costs will be longer waiting lists in hospitals and for a GP appointment, higher house prices and rents, longer waiting lists for social housing, bigger school classes, more crowded roads and slower journeys and further delays on the railways.

     No-one is suggesting that 24 million unemployed will come to the UK from Europe. No-one is saying that immigration should be halted. UKIP propose a system which Australia and the US operated for years and I can't recall their having been accused of racism. Identify shortfalls in the labour force and welcome people, from whatever country, who can fill these gaps, giving preference to those who have good English and clean personal records.

     This is not racism, but simple economic and social planning. On Radio Four this morning was a discussion. A New Labour spokesman said UKIP's campaign poster was racist. The UKIP man accused New Labour of “closing-off the discussion” by playing the racism card. So many discussions of this nature over the years have been closed-off by the playing of the racism card. We must be able to discuss these issues frankly and honestly and we cannot allow the discussions to be stifled by political correctness.

    Phew! I needed that.

On the way to my next stop I'll be passing “The Angle of the North”, the Anthony Gormley statue at Gateshead of one of the Anglo-Saxons who invaded Britain in the Dark Ages. As you can see, they were quite large and could fly, which made them formidable opponents for the Romano-Britons

                                                         and, later, the Danes.