Category Archives: People

150

During a post plastering soak in the bath, while listening to Radio 4, I learned of Dunbar’s theory. The theory from Robin Dunbar, an evolutionary psychologist, maintains that an individual can manage up to 150 friends. 

Friends are defined as “the number of people you would not feel embarrassed about joining uninvited for a drink if you happened to bump into them in a bar”. 

Dunbar’s research goes back to the population sizes of villages in England and Wales, as recorded in the Domesday Book. This transfers to the modern world of social media too. Apparently, the average number of active friends a person has on Facebook is 150. However, many have less. 

Naturally, it’s not quite that simple. There are different circles of friends which vary in closeness.

I could say more, but you can have a look on the Internet if you’re interested. Or, if you can find the programme repeated on the radio, it makes good bath listening. 

Local

I was born in Sunderland. I grew up in County Durham, via New Zealand, but in 2004 I moved to Gateshead. It was a pretty random decision and it went tits up. 

I say tits up because I moved here with my (second ex) wife (to be at the time). It was never going to work out. And, of course, it didn’t. 

But it wasn’t all negative. The relationship might have died a horrible death, but at the end of the day I’m happy. There were a few agonising years, yes, but my time alone was something I needed to pull my head together. And I enjoyed it (once my head was sorted out).

And, after a while, I met my second in command. 

As You can see, she’s quite beautiful. 

I’m very happy with my second in command. In our little house (which we’ll quite possibly sell). 

And I’m very happy in Gateshead. We’ve both been accepted, even though I was born in Sunderland and my second in command likes football (Peterborough and Liverpool) and speaks with a funny accent. 

So, we’re now local. We’ve just been to see local blokes (from my local) play in the Academy in town. And they were damn good. 

A lot of people from our local pub (the Three Tuns) were there too, showing support. 

We were there because we’re local. We live in the Heed.

Dachau

A few days ago, when in Munich, we decided to visit the Dachau concentration camp site. I’d regretted not going when last in Munich, 

Dachau, the town, is only a half hour from Munich by train, followed by a short bus ride to the outskirts of town and the site. 

It was quite a moving experience, it feels appropriate only to post a couple of pictures here. 


Stick

When I was a kid, it was important to have a stick. I must have gone through a forest of sticks during my childhood, although every now and again I’d come across one that was worthy of saving for another day. I can recall a couple of such sticks, their hiding places too. 

I lost my attachment to carrying pieces of wood a very long time ago. This was replaced with a predisposition to constructing things from timber. 

However, not all males evolve beyond the stick carrying stage of development. 

Burka

Standing at the bus stop at the top of the hill, I noticed a young couple in the phone box. It’s not often that anyone uses the public phone nowadays. In fact, it must be several years since I’ve seen anyone in it. 

They seemed to be a little aggitated, dialling a number, quickly hanging up, then making their way (with some haste) to the nearby bookmakers’ establishment. 

This process was repeated several times in just a few minutes. However, they’ve now been inside the bookie’s for a little while now. They’ve probably needed to exchange a banknote for some change for the phone.

Anyway, I noticed that the young lady was wearing a burka; unusual apparel in Gateshead. Particularly when worn with sportswear. 

And then I realised that it was a towel. Which, of course, is normal attire on the hill. She’d obviously washed her hair before remembering some urgent phone calls. 

Bi Nuu

I have to say that I was very impressed with Bi Nuu, a really cool music venue pretty much underneath Schlesisches Tor metro station. 

We were there, of course, to see Mr William McCarthy. Despite some major technical issues, he put on a great show, with lots of Augustines’ stuff, some new material and a couple of covers. 

As always, he showed himself to be a true artist – and a gentleman. 

Before the gig, we briefly explored the area, finding a nice Indian restaurant with a pretty extensive vegan menu (and a huge vegetarian one). There was a vegetarian/vegan cafe opposite too. The whole area was packed with bars and cafes, and had a good atmosphere. We plan to return when next in Berlin. 

During and after the gig, we met a bunch of nice people, with whom we enjoyed some decent beer. 

A couple of short video clips from the evening. 

TNG

many years ago, my eldest grandchild believed that I was Patrick Stewart. There’s a family thing round my mother’s most Saturdays and, years ago, there would be old episodes of Star Trek, the Next Generation on TV while people were there. 

Nowadays, it tends to be 60 minute makeover, but at the time there was a lot if TNG stuff. Anyway, my eldest grandchild used to point at the TV and exclaim  grandad whenever she saw Captain Picard. 

A drawing appeared. I may have mentioned this previously. Me in my Captain’s uniform. 

Yes, that’s me, although the picture was cropped a long time ago, so you can’t see my uniform. 

The original drawing included my second in command, so for completeness I shall show her picture too. I think she’s quite beautiful both in this portrait and in real life. 

Her picture’s nicer because it’s a straight copy from the original, with no attempt at editing (well, she didn’t need any airbrushed hair). 

So, this evening, in town, in the Box Social, I became engaged in conversation with a gentleman while my second in command went to have her nails done. 

Said gentleman mentioned that he lived in Heworth, so I told him that I live in Sheriff Hill. On hearing this, he questioned whether my name was Gary and, if so, I look like my picture on Twitter. 

It turned out we’d been exchanging messages fot a while on Twitter. And he turned out to be a nice bloke. We parted company after a couple of beers, but I’m sure we’ll keep in touch. 

Apparently my eldest grandchild is pleased that her drawing so accurately depicts her grandfather. 

Six

I’ve just tried something of a six degrees of separation experiment on Twitter. Around a couple of decades ago, I borrowed a penknife. 

Said penknife was amazing for sculptural things. It was way better than shop-bought tools. The latter don’t bend or twist, but this penknife did. 

It wasn’t actually my knife though. I borrowed it in 1982 (a guess, but thereabouts). It might have been 1981. 

Anyway, I lost touch with the mate I’d borrowed said penknife from. A long time ago. 

OK, my old mate’s name is (unless he has changed it) is Thomas (Tom) Whelan. He moved to Barry (in Wales) a very long time ago and I still have his grandad’s penknife. 

Tom worked for a pretty massive audio company, but I think they went bust in the 90/00s. He was an engineer of sorts I believe. 

So, if anyone knows anyone in Barry ….

Dennis and John

Dennis and John are two very nice gentlemen from Cardiff. We met two days ago, but apparently I was too drunk to remember. 

We conversed again this evening. They asked if it would be acceptable to call me Gaz, I said that would be bearable. 

They have a friend who is now off out to buy kip. Dirty bastard. 

John O’Gaunt

I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned Ye Olde John O’Gaunt before, a few years ago. 

It’s a nice pub, in Lancaster. Apparently, Oliver Reed once had a pee there.