Mike Harling, author of Postcards from Across the Pond and my fellow columnist at Anglotopia, is on a "virtual" world tour visiting blogs all over the globe. Today Mike is virtually visiting Hartlepool and I have given him a place here on my blog for the day. Enjoy his virtual visit!
What day is this? Where am I? Oh, it’s Monday, the 6th of July. I’m in Hartlepool. And it’s raining. Forgive me if I’m a bit bleary this morning but my hosts – Lisa and her husband Jason – and I spent the weekend at Dockfest, Hartlepool’s premier music and comedy festival. I’m a bit old for that sort of thing but, frankly, there wasn’t much else to do after we exhausted the Monkey Hanging story.
As most of you know, Hartlepool is famous for having hung a monkey, which they mistook for a French spy, during the Napoleonic wars. It’s a great story, even if it’s almost certainly not true. As the town’s claim to fame, it’s also a bit outdated and unnecessary because in 1914 Hartlepool became the first place on mainland Britain to be bombed by the Germans. And because of that, they can also boast the first soldier – Theo Jones – to die on British soil in the Great War. That’s got a specious monkey hanging beat hands down.
We spent the early part of the weekend touring the local drinking establishments and discussing the relative merits of these stories, but then a group of locals began getting shirty when I suggested the monkey story had more myth than mayhem about it so we retreated to the waterfront and see what Dockfest had to offer.
It was a hoot! I saw Sean Lock – one of my favourite comedians – and listened to the Lightning Seeds and some local band called “Lithium Speed Dementia.” My ears are still ringing.
I know what you’re thinking, “but did you do any book promotion?” Well, yes. At least I think so. I have a fuzzy recollection of handing out business cards and my rucksack is empty, so I must have unloaded all the copies of my book I’ve been toting around. Unfortunately, my wallet is also empty, so I either gave them all away or bought everyone a drink with the money they paid me. Either way, don’t tell my wife; she keeps reminding me we’re supposed to be making money on this tour, not financing an unending binge. Easy for her to say; she’s safely tucked away in our flat while I’m out here working hard doing… uh, market research. Yeah, that’s it.
I have to sign off now; I hear people stirring and the distinct aroma of a full English breakfast is wafting into my room. These northerners are a hardy lot; I don’t think I’m ready to face much more than a piece of dry toast and a cup of tea but I suppose I’ll have to be polite and eat what’s put in front of me. I just hope they don’t include the fried bread.
Later today I’m leaving Hartlepool behind to move on to another destination. I’ll miss it. I had a grand time here, despite the weather, and hopefully I’ll be able to return some day. But if I do, I certainly won’t let on that I have doubts about their monkey story.
As most of you know, Hartlepool is famous for having hung a monkey, which they mistook for a French spy, during the Napoleonic wars. It’s a great story, even if it’s almost certainly not true. As the town’s claim to fame, it’s also a bit outdated and unnecessary because in 1914 Hartlepool became the first place on mainland Britain to be bombed by the Germans. And because of that, they can also boast the first soldier – Theo Jones – to die on British soil in the Great War. That’s got a specious monkey hanging beat hands down.
We spent the early part of the weekend touring the local drinking establishments and discussing the relative merits of these stories, but then a group of locals began getting shirty when I suggested the monkey story had more myth than mayhem about it so we retreated to the waterfront and see what Dockfest had to offer.
It was a hoot! I saw Sean Lock – one of my favourite comedians – and listened to the Lightning Seeds and some local band called “Lithium Speed Dementia.” My ears are still ringing.
I know what you’re thinking, “but did you do any book promotion?” Well, yes. At least I think so. I have a fuzzy recollection of handing out business cards and my rucksack is empty, so I must have unloaded all the copies of my book I’ve been toting around. Unfortunately, my wallet is also empty, so I either gave them all away or bought everyone a drink with the money they paid me. Either way, don’t tell my wife; she keeps reminding me we’re supposed to be making money on this tour, not financing an unending binge. Easy for her to say; she’s safely tucked away in our flat while I’m out here working hard doing… uh, market research. Yeah, that’s it.
I have to sign off now; I hear people stirring and the distinct aroma of a full English breakfast is wafting into my room. These northerners are a hardy lot; I don’t think I’m ready to face much more than a piece of dry toast and a cup of tea but I suppose I’ll have to be polite and eat what’s put in front of me. I just hope they don’t include the fried bread.
Later today I’m leaving Hartlepool behind to move on to another destination. I’ll miss it. I had a grand time here, despite the weather, and hopefully I’ll be able to return some day. But if I do, I certainly won’t let on that I have doubts about their monkey story.
Visit Mike's blog at http://postcardsfromacrossthepond.blogspot.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment