Last weekend, I jumped on a train down to Newcastle. Sat opposite my mother and diagonally across from a 21-ish girl balling her eyes out because she was “away to study in France for a year”, bless her.
I wanted to give her a hug, but I figured that would be a bit weird, as I had no idea who she was, so the most I could do was give her a packet of tissues and told her to “chin up”.
To say I was excited was a slight understatement. Not only was it my first time there, but also because we were meeting back up with the people I had met on holiday.
And, after our very brief trip, I have come to the conclusion that I love Newcastle. It’s basically Glasgow but with a better accent.
Not saying that I don’t like a Glaswegian accent but a Geordie one is brilliant.
There’s so many shops, and the people are just lovely.
Like, me and my mum spent the whole day just with the family we met, and they couldn’t have been nicer.
They gave me food.
Of course I’m going to love them.
But in all seriousness though, it was brilliant to see the people we haven’t seen in ages, I was just counting my lucky stars there were no missing iPods or flip flops this time.
What I found fascinating about Newcastle though, as briefly mentioned, is the way they all talk.
It’s nothing new to me, one of my closest friends, Sean, is a Geordie and I’ve spoken to Ben enough to get to terms with the accent, but when you’re surrounded by it, wow.
I don’t understand a blimin’ word – standing listening to Ben and his ‘mam’ having a conversation, and I feel like I need a translator by my side.
Again, not complaining. It’s pretty cool.
So yes, I recommend Newcastle.
Maybe not on match day, town was mobbed, but yes, definitely get yourselves down there. It’s an experience you don’t want to miss.