The Road to Whitley Bay

I’m pedalling again and it’s strange without Den

But here’s where the mystery thickens 

It’s not his bad knee or a spat with me

He’s just feeding his neighbour’s chickens.

So I’ll join Tim’s crew who out of the blue

Are cycling as far as Dundee 

They’d an evening of quiet, missed the Hartlepool riot, 

Hope to meet them at Tynemouth for tea.

The train runs to plan, but of course it’s rammed 

Cause the one before got canned

At the toon I’m straight through, on seventy-two

A route that’s familiar but grand

Tynemouth is Iron Age, says its history page

And I really should stop at the Priory

But my primary wish is Longsands’ Fish

Such joy when the girls were at uni

In 1639 came Cullercoats’ mine 

Saltpans and fishing the main proclivities 

But 12th century Whitley grew more quickly 

Profiting from Crusaders’ activities 

You wouldn’t think that Whitley could be confused with nearby Whitby

But a corpse was sent there wrongly all the same

This was just the final straw, so the locals fixed the flaw

By voting to add “Bay” to the name

It is glorious all the way and when I get to Whitley Bay

I’m looking for a Spanish City up above

Not Bilbao nor Pamplona, not Madrid nor Barcelona 

But the one featured in Tunnel of Love…

Alnwick