Some travel is exotic, some isn’t. Sitting in the lounge at Heathrow drinking white wine bought with our £5 vouchers in lieu of Gate Gourmet food is somewhere in the middle but a good start to a long weekend being taken north to L’s home.

Across the aisle from me is a woman with two young children. They seem to be seasoned travellers and aren’t over awed with all the bustle of people inside and outside the plane. Settled into their seats and belted in the older one asked in a loud voice “Mummy, what happens when planes land in the sea”….

Luckily we didn’t land there but instead at Newcastle. In the late evening gloom we were driven home by L’s Dad to a warm welcome and a hearty Northumbrian meal of soup and cow pie.

People say villages can be insular and cold but this place doesn’t seem that way. We went out for a tour of the local pubs letting me meet people and L catch up with all the local news and gossip.

The Castle has a lot going for it as a pub. The atmosphere, the bar owner and the fact that if you’re an outsider you’re likely to be thrown out. Luckily I was accepted and in return got to stand at Michael’s bar and listen to his stories of life in the brewery trade and the working men’s clubs of Newcastle.

That night we walked back up the road, under the stars and a frosty night.

Home at last.