Birthday treats

A few days ago I clocked up another year on this planet — an event that did not go unnoticed by a few companies that have my email address. Yves Rocher offered me a free bottle of perfume, a dainty wrist watch and a make-up  bag (if I placed a big enough order) but, best of all, Beefeater and Las Iguanas tempted me with a free main course at any of their restaurants. Las Iguanas won, as they were thoughtful enough to include a rather fetching image of me on my last Mexican holiday — instantly recognizable, as I'm sure you'll agree.

This coincided nicely with my short break in Newcastle, and the opportunity for Aunt Sarah to lavish some affection on her niece, so off we set by Metro, in the direction of Las Iguanas in the city centre.

Benton Metro Station

Arriving at 6pm, the place was already packed, but thankfully there was just room for two more. I waved a copy of my Birthday Treat email and was given a complimentary cocktail - a nice start!  We chose a couple of tapas dishes for starters, then both went for a Brazilian dish that sounded too good to miss. If Pele loves it, why not us?.

THE EXTRAORDINARY XINXIM 

Exotic, creamy, satisfying. Lime chicken in a crayfish & peanut sauce with spring onion & garlic rice & fine green beans. Toasted coconut farofa to sprinkle, sweet plantains for fun. Pele loves it.

Ben, our waiter (who took this photo) informed us that it's pronounced something like zin-zim. Here it is, about to be devoured by a hungry aunt and niece.

We left Las Iguanas, full of praise for our meal and our waiter, and feeling nicely full... but the evening was far from over. A short walk down Grey Street, then over the Tyne, brought us to The Sage concert hall in Gateshead.

This view has featured in Angie's Aspirations before, but this time I had
a decent camera to record the scene.  The famous Tyne Bridge is in the
foreground, the Millennium Bridge beyond it, and The Sage concert hall
between the two, on the right.

Here I was in for a real musical feast — Beethoven's 7th Symphony, performed by the Royal Northern Sinfonia. Before the performance began, we were treated to the news (a day before the press release) that Julian Rachlin had been appointed their Principal Guest Conductor.  JR then led his sinfonia in a stirring performance of Beethoven's masterpiece – a little too fast in the 2nd and 4th movements, according to Auntie, but I was in raptures. The 2nd movement (in particular) is so memorable that I found myself humming it for days afterwards.

Newcastle Swansong?

July 2008

Aunt Sarah has an admirer.  After years of living alone, she is being wooed by a fellow septuagenarian and the talk is of more than friendship.  "Good luck to them," I hear you say.

Whilst nothing is yet certain, I'm already caught up in the mounting euphoria, dreaming of suitable wedding outfits that an affectionate niece might wear. Something floral, in mauve and white, perhaps, and with a nice big hat and a matching handbag.  Yes, that will do nicely. Please may it be summertime? 

It occurs to me, though, that this could well change the nature of my frequent visits to the North East. Aunt and niece long ago discovered the interests that we share — performances at The Sage, walks in the countryside, visits to National Trust properties, good food and wine, and (of course) shopping. How might the presence of a third person alter this?  For the better, one hopes, but one thing is certain... it will be different.  So, as I waited for my Cross Country train at Cheltenham, last Tuesday morning, I was overcome
with the feeling that this visit could well be a Swansong.

November 2014.  Some things never change -
the same Killingworth Morrison's and the same
shopping list.  Only the shopper has aged a bit.

The station clock marked the passing minutes, until declaring it to be the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month.  A Great Western train from Slough had arrived a few minutes before, and now its train manager stood motionless, beside her charge. Nearby, a gent in pinstriped suit stood to attention and an elderly man beside me, poppy in lapel, closed his eyes.  I rose from my seat and bowed my head as, for two dignified minutes, the station fell silent and we remembered man's inhumanity to man.

As quickly as it had arrived, the moment passed.  The business of a mainline station resumed and the little Great Western train scurried under the bridge and out of sight. Still in contemplative mood,  I began to retrace in my mind the good times aunt and niece have enjoyed since first we met in July 2007, the speed with which we adopted our relationship and the wonderful way in which that relationship was cemented when Auntie visited us in Cornwall at the end of the year, endearing herself to both of us.  The next few days would, I knew, be every bit as good.

A Day to Remember

Next week I'm having a mini-holiday with Aunt Sarah in Newcastle.  Packing is well in hand... skirts, tops, tights, knickers... so much to remember. 

This morning I glanced at my rail ticket and, for the first time, spotted the significance of the day and time that I travel – the 11th month, the 11th day and (to round it off) the 11th minute. So, at the official Time of Remembrance, I should be standing on a railway platform in Cheltenham.  I hope that, amid the hustle and bustle of a mainline station, I am afforded two minutes of peace.

Few families come through world wars unscathed.  My grandfather was seriously injured in WW1 but clung to life until 1923 – just long enough to deny him an inscription on the local war memorial and my grandmother a war widow's pension. Since gran and my father have now died, there is no-one to remember him.  Gone and forgotten.

But this story has an interesting twist.  A few years ago I searched online at the War Graves site for K----s who had died in active service.  It obligingly came up with one Private Dan K---- of the East Yorkshire Regiment, who died on April 23rd 1917 and is buried in Arras, Pas de Calais, France.  Dan turned out to be a brother of my grandfather, whom we had forgotten but whom the War Graves Commission have remembered. He will be remembered again on this Remembrance Day, in his part of a foreign field that is forever England... and by his great niece, wearing her poppy on a railway platform in Cheltenham.