Its Wednesday. On Monday gone my wife and I dropped the kids of at school and our youngest at his Nana`s and went to Newcastle, our plan was to travel to the West end of the city, go to the library and look through the electoral roll for that area to see if we could get any closer to finding my daughter. The journey there was uneventful as ever, the train running about 15 minutes late. Eventually we arrived at Newcastle Central station and as usual our first stop was the toilets possibly to get rid of the horrible coffee we had drunk in an effort to speed up the waiting time at the other end. Anyway after the toilet stop we head out of the station and start the 5 minute walk to the bus stop to get the bus to the west end of Newcastle. So far we had spent about £13 on train fairs. Now I know that Newcastle is a place full if weird and wonderful things, but Im not sure about this erm sculpture. We saw it the last time we came but for some reason I didnt get a picture of it. Anyway a little further up the road we bump into of all people our next door neighbour (you travel half way across the North east and see the person you live over the road from), it seems he works in Newcastle. Now back with the story, we get to the bus stop and wait as I am telling Tracy the history of me in relation to Newcastle while a tramp rummages through the bin to our left and a woman stands swearing and shouting at her self to our right. We didnt have to wait too long for the bus much to the joy of my wife I think as the tramp and Mrs Angry lady were making her feel uncomfortable me thinks. Getting on the bus I hand the driver man a £5 note and say two to West denton please, he grunts some price and hands me a ticket and my change. After moving to the back of the bus we sit and look at the ticket which it seems cost £3.90 for a 5 minute journey which was about 55 pence the last time I took it (about 17 years ago).
We get to the West end of Newcastle, a place called West Denton, the place were i spent my teenage years. Getting off the bus at the shopping centre we were greeted by black clouds and lots of mud. They had pulled down more than half of the shopping centre as I remembered it and were rebuilding it so I didnt have a clue how to get to the library. In the end I asked someone how to get there and “if” in fact it was still there, luckily it was and a very nice man not only gave us directions but walked with us to make sure we didnt get lost in the mud and forest of builders butt cleavages. (Thank you very nice man with a mustache). By the time we get to the library it is raining heavy, I walk up to the librarian and ask to see the electoral roll for this area as I am looking for my daughter. I was handed a big file full of smaller files and asked, “Were does your daughter live?” now if I knew that i would not have travelled to newcastle to find out were she lived at the library would I? After selling to woman that we didnt know we get a blank look and told that the electoral roll is listed in address order then house number and then name. At which point my heart sank at the thought of spending hours no days trolling through reams of addresses. The librarian then added that the records she kept are only for those who live in that area and if she had changed address we would have to go to her local library to find her. After looking through some of the address` my wife and I decide to head back into Newcastle city centre as we just did not have the time to go through all the address` only to find she had moved. Another £3.90 spent and we are back in the city centre. So our journey and £20 was not a waist we decide to find a new coat for Conor which after trolling through loads of shops we could not find anywhere. Feeling let down and some what deflated we headed back home with a cheese savory Sandwich each and a bus time table for Newcastle which would be useless as soon as we get on the train home.