The Angel

Please read this "Living The Dream" post, containing the St Helens review, before reading below, or you won't appreciate some of the references:

https://stennymad.forumakers.com/t1385-living-the-dream







Been a few weeks since “The Dream” visit, so needed nourishment for my soul. Was also a vain attempt to clear my despondency and utter disillusionment with life. Life’s not worth the struggle.

Ten miles down the road I reached to the backseat to extract a piece of chewing gum from my coat pocket. Fuck, forgot to put my coat, hat, gloves and scarf in the car. Nearly pulled over and ended it all.

Is it just me, but I can’t retrace my tracks? Even when cycling I have to perform a loop, can’t cycle to a place, turn round and head home the same way. Is this normal behaviour?
Luckily I keep an old coat in the car, so carried on driving.

I spent some time in Durham a few years ago. The circumstances weren’t ideal and though I loved the area and the people, I hated the situation I was in. The only thing that sort of kept me on an even keel was copious amounts of dope, lager and visits to a couple of serenity inducing venues.

The first venue was Penshaw Monument:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penshaw_Monument

You can see it from miles away and the closer I got the more excited I became.

Situated atop a hill, you can walk up various tracks to reach it.
The gate I chose as ingress was guarded by a bull and the bastard thing attacked me.



Well, it butted me while I was taking this photo, hence it being out of focus.

The following picture was taken hot-footing it up the track with the bull in pursuit. (Maybe )



Penshaw is just a shell, with nothing to discover when you reach it. Here are a few more pics:







There’s a high base and you need to be a little agile to access the monument floor. This is no bar to the graffiti artists, they’ve even carved the stone, surprisingly competently in some cases.

Penshaw didn’t work its magic, I was as despondent as ever and 60 quid down on petrol.

Never mind, 10 minutes up the road is the next venue.





Can you guess what it is yet? It’s not as if I bang on about it to anyone who’ll listen to me.

Well, what can I say, The Angel Of The North is the most beautiful sculpture, (biggest in Britain you know) I could die (and wish I had) looking at it.

My favourite view of it is from the bottom of its mound, facing the sculpture front:



Unfortunately, the camera on my phone wasn’t able to do it justice, it completely fails to reproduce the lovely, weathered brown hue it has obtained. Here’s an arty shot to make up for it:



The Angel does have an incredibly sexy bum. Is it wrong to think this? See what you think, this is the best shot I could get illustrating it:



Now if the National Lottery only provided one thing (see plaque below), then they can pay Camelot (or whoever runs the Lottery now) as much money as they want, funding for the Angel negates their greed, the Angel, is the best:



Can’t tell you how much I enjoyed visiting the Angel, was awestruck and only sought refuge in the car because my hands were frozen due to forgetting my gloves. Grrrrrrrr. (bad)

With the Angel making me truly happy for the first time since................well, since never. I’ve never been happy, life’s wasted on me, I don’t understand or want it. All this money the NHS waste on keeping me alive should be spent on someone who gives a fuck. I’ll never forgive that do-gooding GP for saving my life when I collapsed, cunt.
Sorry, got sidetracked there, anyway, Penshaw and the Angel visited, Durham was the last destination.

I dislike Durham. Not really sure why, it’s not St Helens after all. Maybe the way it abruptly jumps from old to modern, or the higgledy-piggledyness of it all. I don’t know, I just don’t like it.
Here’s a pic of Elvet Bridge Street, it’s part of the old town:



I do like walking down by the River Wear, but I wouldn’t fancy a cruise on this boat, which is still in service from the signs advertising trips:



Durham is very hilly once you stray the slightest distance from the town centre and provides exhilarating walking, perhaps fat Sue should try it.
I wandered up a hill to the DLI and art gallery.

http://county.durham.gov.uk/sites/dli/Pages/WelcomePage.aspx

They charge to get in, but as I only had an hour left on my parking ticket (you have to pay to park everywhere, I parked a 20 minute walk from town and the bastards had ticket machines. 30p per half hour) and I’m not really into infantry (far too macho) I declined. The desk girl (who was a fucking vermin [Australian]) gave me two pamphlets on my exit:



Like its bigger brother Newcastle, Durham is populated by orange tan women. Why? Fake tan is not sexually attract-a-tive, please stop.
The women also swear a lot in the street, but “fucking” heard in a Geordie accent is not offensive, it sounds natural.

One brief interlude to the pain of my Durham experience was when Matt came to perform an audit. We went out one night with his accounting team to “The Fighting Cocks”. A shit pub, but quite a pleasant evening.



The next night Matt and I won a crate of Budweiser in the Yates’ pub quiz.
Too much beer was imbibed that week, no wonder Matt ended up an alcoholic, such a waste.

Off to W H Smiths to find a local paper. They had the Durham Times, but it was only about 6 pages thick, so bought “The Journal”, which was a Newcastle and surrounding area paper.
Next job was to locate a Wetherspoons:

http://www.jdwetherspoon.co.uk/home/pubs/the-water-house

The Water House is not a nice pub, it was full of shakers and scum. The tea was pleasant, though:



Tea drunk, it was time to come home.

The Angel cured life’s disillusionment while admiring it, but I’m now just as baffled as to what life’s all about and how people think the struggle is worth it, as I was yesterday. (I’ve felt this way since the age of 19 by the way, and you all wonder why I’m so miserable)

Please visit the Angel, you’ll love it.



E-mailed this review to a friend, what follows is some of his reply:

Love the show * review. Amazed you've stayed on the rails so long.

Perhaps he'll reassess if I tell him about my psychiatric visits. Wibble.

* Mark and Lard show gag.

well, im speechless, if only you were too.

The bull probably got the word from his Spanish cousins about your drunken Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrangers chants ringing round Santander

Mon the bull

as for Wetherspoons they're on the whole sticky carpeted manky hell holes. Can't argue with cheap beer though but I'm starting to get to an age where its quality that counts no quantity

I hope you have a much better 2011, Crown.

And that Rangers get fucked, of course.

If Novitsky takes down Pharmstrong, 2011 will be worth seeing out, mo.




James, the bull has been taken on as an accountant and is keen for you to settle your bill. Still on his side?

crownliquor wrote:James, the bull has been taken on as an accountant and is keen for you to settle your bill. Still on his side?

Time the cunt was at the abatoir, he's a pretty poor looking specimen anyway. Highland bulls are three times that size and they canna count

And it hasnt gone unnoticed your wee masonic slip in on the penshaw folly.

cunt.

this is a timmy board, always has been, always will be.




what next, union jacks on town halls?

JimmyMcGrory wrote:

crownliquor wrote:James, the bull has been taken on as an accountant and is keen for you to settle your bill. Still on his side?

Time the cunt was at the abatoir, he's a pretty poor looking specimen anyway. Highland bulls are three times that size and they canna count