Twice Brewed to Bellingham (16 miles) Thursday 22nd August 2002

Definitely a sense of entering the final furlong now. We’ve just come too far to stop now and I think that if one of us broke a leg now we’d still manage to hop into Kirk Yetholm.

After a bit more walling and we have our first encounter with the Great Pine Plantations of the North, as we skirt Kielder Forest, which provides home to the notorious Scottish Midge. (Not Midge Ure, more Midge Ire). A lot of trees and a lot of soggy cotton grass, but Buzz Aldrin’s comment about the Moon (Magnificent Desolation) comes to mind; however the River North Tyne looks peaceful and calm in the beautiful evening light as we reach Bellingham (pronounced with a hard G).

It is self-catering tonight, so as we walk through Bellingham we take the opportunity to buy a bottle of wine and some sundries to pad out our re-hydrated pasta meal. The Hostel at Bellingham is a super-annuated scout hut with metal bunk-beds that look like they saw National Service in the 1950’s and are held together in places with sellotape (sticky-back plastic to the Blue Peter generation). It is guarded by a strange little man smoking “tabs”, who denies all knowledge of our booking, so we stump up the fee for the night and retire to the showers.

There is a family staying here, and I get talking to the grandfather who wants to buy some D9’s for a humanitarian project in Somalia (D = dozer = bulldozer). I give him my card and tell him to ask for a salesman, not an IT guy.

We surprise ourselves with our culinary efforts. How hard can it be, to be a housewife?

~ by @mmonyte on August 22, 2006.

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