Waiting...

... for the train back to Edinburgh.

The morning after was clear-headed and a large full-on English breakfast at the hotel was partaken, listening to a table of southerners issuing forth on their conquests the night before. Newcastle the sex-theme-park reputation will remain in Essex.

Had a short conversation with some loud middle-aged hen-party refugees by the sausages. Three of their number were triangulated for conversation, blocking access to the hot plates, and the food. I stood for half a minute or so, wondering if they were indeed queuing, before deciding their discourse on the night before was taking precedence over the need for nourishment. And so I politely asked by to the hot plates, then made for the tray of aforementioned sausages, whereupon one of the number looked at me and announced, "Erm, excuuuuuuuuse me?"

I'm not normally one for confrontation, and certainly not over breakfast, but there was something that irked. The three had been rudely standing in the road of all and sundry, I had politely made my way past as my presence, which they could clearly see, was not sufficient to entice them towards the food. And then in return I was being accused of rude behaviour.

"Well c'mon," I retorted, with a shrug of the shoulders, "That wasn't so much a queue as a collection of chatting."

"Well it is a queue," replied the stroppiest.

"I think a queue generally moves," was made in response.

"Well it's moving now isn't it," came back with some considered thought.

"Good," I concurred.

And so it was that I achieved breakfast.

Both train journeys to and from Newcastle were without incident (and in both cases slightly ahead of schedule) with a bonus on arriving home of a call from my brother who was heading north to Aberdeen from Coldstream and was going to pop in for a brew.

And now it's dark. Before it's even 6pm - which at least means I can finally do the pictures for my lights review....

(yesterday's view of the Tyne Bridge is backblipped here)