From The Kitchen Table

One of the things that I miss from my party political days is the chance to travel to towns for conferences and meetings that otherwise I would have no reason to go to. Discovering Scarborough was a real joy (although I must admit I have never been back) This weekend I have to go to Tynemouth and have discovered that the guest house I’ve booked into was once the home of Harriet Martineau. I admit that I wasn’t too sure who she was which is a bit rough for a feminist person like me with major interests in poltical history, but have discovered a new life (or an old one) to explore. She sounds like my sort of a person. Perhaps I can add her to my fantasy historical dinner party. I already have Nell Gwynn and she might not get on with Harriet to say nothing of Sam Pepys and Henry Fielding. Still, if I lay on enough drink it could be OK.

Scarborough was a very good discovery. Great sweeps of beaches and excellent fish and chips. Birmingham, which as a Londoner I was almost incapable of visiting turns out to be a revelation. I got there because of a son at university and find myself planning weekends in Brum. I haven’t seen the art galleries or the Symphony Hall yet but I have seen the jewellrey quarter and Harvey Nicks. I’ve got Leeds to discover too now. Good oh.

Working out how to get from Oxford to Tynemouth I found out how it is almost impossible to book train tickets. Generally I avoid this by driving but just didn’t have the time. So I searched on line which offers all sorts of options including what seems to be the same ticket only one is more expensive than the others. Supersaver A, Supersaver B – what does this mean (apart from the possibility that my brain is addling) Awful and Brilliant? Anyway I’ve got a ticket; it makes me change twice. I’m baffled and feel like the grumpy old woman I am rapidly becoming. I can book flights across America with greater ease. If found wandering in Doncaster, send me home. I’ll sew a name tape in my gloves.