(Previously: Wanting to score a Scot but couldn’t travel to Scotland, I decided to hookup with a decidedly Scottish MacDougall — Fergus MacDougall, 22 years old.
Our meeting place was Cullercoats, but my bus ride took me to Whitley Bay, so guess what…)
***
I walked around and snapped a few photos in Whitley Bay.
But the £6 pass is only for the bus.
Another £1.70 is needed for the train from Whitley Bay to Cullercoats, just one stop.
I texted Fergus.
He’s gonna take a while, just finishing some stuff.
I checked the bus schedules of the lines that can use my bus pass, they’re all crazily on a Sunday (or what they call the bank holiday) schedule.
So I decided to walk 1.3 miles to the Cullercoats metro station.
I was thinking, walking will give me some good exercise, and I can take photos along the way.
***
I waited for about 15 minutes for Fergus before I decided to turn away.
I mean, what the hell?
If he lives nearby the station, and there weren’t many houses there, how can he take so long?
I mean, if he’s interested to meet a 53-year-old man, wouldn’t he be rushing in excitement?
I texted my goodbye: “I think u already passed by me. Haha. I’ll just check out St George Church & the beach, then go home. I don’t like looking like a sad guy at the station.”
***
He was apologetic:
—Just setting off now sorry I was trying to find my hoodie
—Meet at the station I live around the corner won’t be long
—I’m on my way sorry for taking so long
—Whereabouts are you now?
—Please come back I’m pretty much there now
—I see you.
***
And so we walked towards each other, hugged, and since no one else was on the street, we kissed slightly, awkwardly.
We checked out St George Church, but it was closed.
So he took me on a walking tour, mostly by the Cullercoats promenade to the Tynemouth beach, passing through the Grand Hotel, which segued into Tynemouth city center, up to the Pen Bal Crag.
He was my little historian, my local tour guide.
And he was adorable!
***
But not dependent on guides, I was also reading the historical markers like this:
North Tyneside Council —
The headland of Pen Bal Crag —
“The place where now stands the Monastery of Tynemouth was anciently called by the Sexons Benebalcrag – Leland at the time of Henry VIII.
So began the history of Tynemouth — its Priory, sacked by the Danes in 800, and Castle walls, started in 1095.
Three Kings were buried within — Oswin, King of Deria (651); Osred, King of Northumbria (792); Malcolm III, King of Scotland (1093).
Three crowns still adorn the North Tyneside coat of arms.”
***
At St George’s, we talked about our origins, and journeys.
Me: Philippines, California, Maryland, my previous European tour, this UK tour, and the upcoming trip to Sweden.
He: his Scottish heritage, his MacDougall name, his academic-philosopher mom who took him to Nepal and Tibet for her studies in Eastern religions, and his travels in Sri Lanka and India. Also, how his mom and uncle were born in Baltimore, Maryland, and how he was born south of London.
***
While walking the Tynemouth promenade, we talked about his career as a musician, my career as a writer-performer.
We talked about online platforms for our creative arts, and strategies to monetize them.
He talked a little bit about the history of the Grand Hotel.
I took photos, and he patiently waited for my perfect shots.
I told him, I know the Grand Hotel’s owner by name.
He was impressed.
I told him, the owner’s name is Nigel.
(Well, I got the name from a Filipino former bodyguard who told me stories when I first arrived in Newcastle!
But he didn’t have to know that. Haha.)
***
Past the Grand Hotel, we talked about movies, my VHS and DVD collections.
And my passion as a filmmaker.
I told him one of my favorites contemporary auteurs is Wes Anderson.
And he named “The Grand Budapest Hotel” to be among his favorite films.
How can I not fall in love with this cuddly bear?
***
We passed by several pubs: Copperfields; and, inside the Green Ginger Market (that used to be a church), Vineyard72, and Hemingway’s Cubana Lounge.
But to avoid the crowds, we ended up getting drinks at the Lola Jeans.
Also, Lola Jeans so that we could kiss some more.
We took the corner table, and when no one was looking, we were trying to suck out each other’s tongue.
***
Feeling warm enough, we then continued our walking tour to the aforementioned Pen Bal Crag, down to the long pier with a lighthouse, and the rocky beach.
But Joseph, Mary, and Jesus know we were not there for the scenery.
***
Actually, I’ve been there on New Year’s Day; and got photos to prove it.
But I wanted to just stay with Fergus.
To take him away from the crowd so we could hug, kiss, and cuddle.
When we couldn’t help ourselves anymore, I ordered an Uber for you-know-where./PN
