This is all I have to say. There are probably quite a few pictures like this.
Tag Archives: hadrianswalk
I can’t quite remember the day when at Dan at All That Comes With It mooted his absolutely barking idea to have a bunch of bloggers march from one end of Hadrian’s wall to another for the benefit of the Joseph Salmon Trust (Donate! Donate!) but I was definitely having breakfast.
“There’s a bunch of bloggers marching across Hadrian’s Wall for charity,” I mentioned to supermum. The children must already have left the room or nothing resembling a conversation would have been taking place.
“You should go,” she said. “It’ll be good for you.”
“Well, maybe I will. Could you cope with the two of them for a week?”
“Don’t see why not. Could you cope with all those strange blogging types?”
Supermum doesn’t blog or Twitter. Or pay any attention to LinkedIn. She does have a Facebook profile but regards that as socially normative. You could say that she harbours certain prejudices about bloggers in general or me in particular. She also knows that the major questions for me would be “Could I cope with all these people I’ve never met? Could I share a room with strangers? Keep up conversations all day and into the evening without going insane? Deal with not being by myself for a whole week?”
Well, we’ll see, won’t we? Everyone I’ve met is lovely (come on – these are people who’ve given up a week of their time to trudge across the north of England and raise nearly £20 – loveliness is part of their job description). But, God, I’m tired – and that’s after only 6 miles!
“Good for you” is also supermum-speak for “You might actually speak to people.” I have. Dan, for example and I had the odd sense that I’d known him for simply ages. Weird, huh? But good weird.
Another weird thing was being the one presented with the bill for twelve people in the Indian restaurant this evening. Perhaps I looked the most authoratative. Perhaps I annoyed the waiter the most.
I’m also pretty sure I’m glad I’ve come, though hearing how little elf cried because I wasn’t there and dudelet whispered “I miss daddy” just before he went to sleep can sap a man’s resolve a little. I just have to remind myself that they don’t seem to care that much when I’m actually at home (even though it isn’t exactly true).
And finally, here’s an iPhone picture of a weird Newcastle shop. How many instances of “weird” was that?