One Bear,One Blog......

''If you have a camera I suggest you take it out and look to your right'' said the bus driver.

He was referring to the fantastic view of the Manhattan skyline that becoming clear in the distance.

We had boarded the 7.15 bus to Woodbury Common, it was full with people with suitcases - serious shoppers.

I turned to the right but all I could see was hair.

Lots of hair.

Her afro was HUGE.

It's about 5am on the 28th November 2008 and we are lazing in bed in our hotel room in New York, just off Lexington Avenue.

We are on the 11th floor and we can already hear the noise form the street outside as the city comes to life. The hooting of car horns, the growl of their engines.

I flick on the tv and meander thourgh several tv channels, cartoons, infomercials, weather forecast's(cold) and finally come to rest on of the morning shows.

The story the insanely happy anchor was talking about was Black Friday.

Today.

Today was the day that America goes sale crazy, in fact some stores had opened at midnight the night before.

''Are you sure we are chooing the right day to go there?'' said Graham.

He was referring to Woodbury Common - an outlet mall just outside New York.

''Yes'' I said bravely.

Gulp.

We're sitting in the Butlers Wharf Chop Hose overlooking the Thames.

It's November 23rd, my birthday and it's a cold Sunday afternoon.

Rain bounces off the board walk outside, but we're snug on the inside.

Graham organised a small intimate lunch, a great lunch as it tured out.

Martin and I got into our usual ELO v KISS arguement.

I know, but it's something we do.

I know in my heart of hearts that in a Celebrity Deathmatch special, Jeff Lynne would kick the ass of Gene Simmonds.

I was taking the piss out of their make up.

''But'' countered Martin ''Between 198- to 199- they didn't wear any make up and it didn't affect their ability..''

A moment later he realised what he had said.

Oh, how I laughed..

It's been a while but we're back in the saddle.

Since I have been spending less time in the old blog I found myself spending more time on Facebook.

And I'm asking myself why.

Don't get me wrong, I am a facebook fan, I think it's a friendly little place and a good, digital age way of keeping in touch with friends near and afar.

But jeezus, the banality of it sometimes...

''WHOEVER is feeling tired''

''BLAH BLAH is washing up''

''Such and such is having the biggest dump of their life''

I mean, who cares?

I don't.

My Dad had two holiday destinations when we were growing up - we grew up the seventies - flares were our uniform and Adam and the Ants/The Clash/T-Rex were our soundtrack.

Towyn and Weymouth.

They were poles apart in every respect, heck, they may as well had been at each pole they were so different.

My overwhleming memory of Towyn is of rain.

And Wind.

And dead sheep.

Holidays were spent in kagool's,not shorts.

Nights were spent playing games of monopoly in the caravan as the wind battered the side, the aluminium popping every now and again in the wind.

One day as we were walking along hte beach after a particularly voilent storm we stumbled across the carcass of a dead sheep.

A dead frickin' sheep.

Just what you need when your seven years old.

We came to two conclusions: one, it had tried desperately to to swim to Ireland to escape the soggy hell that is Towyn, or it had simply lost the will to live any longer and had just laid down to die.

The town of Weymouth sits in a sandy bay, the beach is expecially good with lots of golden sand.

Portland Bill sits adjacent snd is linked to the mainland by Chesel Beach.

The legend of Chesel Beach is a quaint one: that the beach was created by a whale, that it threw the beach up one stormy night off it's back.

I suspect it didn't quite happen that way.

Crabbing off the harbour wall is a strong memory as is the appearance and smell of fish heads that were used as bait. In retrospect it was a pointless activity as the crabs would be caught, they would sit in a bucket and then be turned out to scuttle down the boat ramp back to the sea.

It was pointless but it had a macabre quality to it that kids enjoy.

One week in the blazing hot summer of '76 was spent on the beach or splashing around in a rubber dinghy in the sea, I remember going out quite a way and then panicking to get back closer to the shore...

And the place seemed so big!! The beach seemed to go on for miles, The Prom felt at least 10 miles long and full of all different kinds of delights...sweets, rides...

So When G and I returned this weekend for a little break, I couldn't get over how small it seemed.

The idyll that had existed in my minds eye was replaced by a grown up reality of the place.

But, I still like the place.

It's clean and well maintained and feels very civilised for want of a better word.

We had a lovely weekend, wandering around the streets, along the Old Harbour and over to Portland.

And G liked it too.

And that was the best thing about the whole weekend.