¦ dialling in from Jesus Mound ¦
06:01 GMT, Sunday 4th November 2007. Dark outside, beyond the double French doors to my left, the dark mass of Jesmond Dene beyond. I'm sitting at the broad expanse of oak table, in the open-plan kitchen / lounge, a cavernous space, dark skylights above me. Silence fills the place. I've been here since Wednesday night: a quick train journey from Bath, picking up the coach-link to the airport, a swift flight, good landing, short Metro ride into Newcastle proper...off at West Jesmond Metro station, carrying my laptop satchel and a huge backpack full of all my gear. 10 minute walk home. This is my 1st visit since the new phase of my life began. Last time I came here (late August) things were...precarious; after 2 years writing, living on my savings and the sporadic income of freelance contracts. I've not seen anybody. A deliberate step. I wanted to savour Jesmond on its own. Just me, the house, my mum and Jesmond Dene. Regular visits to Kitsch'n Cafe but headphones plugged into my laptop maintained the isolationism. This visit made me realise how small and "village-like" the whole Jesmond thing can be. Same people with the same cynical and negative statements about life and the world. This irritated me and reinforced my desire to have some quality time in my bubble. Next door had a HUGE bonfire Friday night, divine, a ton of wood from the building site taking place across the road, old doors, bathroom fixtures, kitchen worktops... I sat there supping whisky and shooting the breeze with Pete for a bit. Mum has been kicking my arse at cards (Norwegian game) but the tide is turning now...