Tynemouth, Alnwick, Lindisfarne

For our second major (3-day) trip of Paul's visit, we'd planned to spend some time in Edinburgh, travelling up via Alnwick Castle, as I wanted to reacquaint myself with it, having not been there since my age was counted in single figures. The Harry Potter references, though not lost on me, were entirely secondary to the reasons for visiting, especially since everyone knows the majority of Hogwarts is achieved through the miracle of CGI.

So Alnwick was the plan, but we'd decided on a scenic route up the coast starting at Tynemouth, and once you get into the habit of stopping journey plans do seem to go quickly awry. What was intended to be a short stop, by the time you've found somewhere to park, walked about a bit, had a swift half in a local pub with a stunning coastal view, chewed the fat over said half, queued for a pee, etc, you've lost an hour or so. And then there's the Sunday driver factor (which believe me had a *significant* impact on the journey time today), all of which added up to us not getting to Alnwick until around 2.30pm.

To make matters worse the Castle, still operating its out-of-season hours, was due to close at 4pm, so we didn't feel like forking out eight quid a piece to canter round the place in 90 minutes. We had to content ourselves with what we could see from the path (and the small glimpse of the first courtyard which the gatekeeper graciously allowed us), so my 40-year quest for better photos than I could achieve with my old box Brownie still remains unfulfilled.

Casting around for an alternative to Alnwick, it being far too early to head to our designated berth for the evening, we decided on a small detour to Lindisfarne. I have no memory of having visited the Holy Island before, but this time round I have a feeling it will stay with me for a long time. Having consulted the tide tables and proved we'd be safe to cross for at least another four hours, we drove over the causeway and parked up for a wander around the village.

As before the weather was being uncommonly kind to us, but our timing was still slightly out, as we just missed the last bus out to the castle. Once again we had to content ourselves with gazing at the edifice from afar, and checking out at closer quarters the ruins of Lindisfarne Priory.

Feeling slightly frustrated at not being able to see either of our chosen destinations "properly," we decided the whole area was easily worth a visit in its own right, but meanwhile we'd check in at our B&B in Crookham and then walk a little way along the road to dine at the local hostelry.

We received an unexpectedly curt greeting from the barman, especially when food was mentioned, but we forgave him a short while later when we learned the cook had literally walked out 5 minutes before, leaving him totally in the lurch for evening meals. Fortunately, the pub manager had completed a catering course several years previously and stepped into the breach in fine style. His venison steaks with home-made chunky chips were mouthwatering and the desserts were heavenly perfections too. The guy then proceeded to engage us in splendidly entertaining conversation for much of the rest of the evening, totally dispelling the rather frosty reception of a few hours before.

What no-one could explain though, was why Lindisfarne Priory has a statue of Max Branning in its grounds.

The manager's banter was helped by the rather unique names of the beers he was selling, apparently a well-known feature of Northumberland Brewery. Most of us stuck to the Easter Bunny Ale all evening, but Paul was eventually tempted by a pint of Seaman Staines. Something I'm sure he'll not live down for quite a while. If I have anything to do with it.