We’ve just got back from a weekend away staying in Bambrough, Northumberland. It’s MILES AWAY! Well, not if you live in Newcastle, I suppose, but for us, it seemed like an age away.

My parents had kindly been looking after the children for a couple of days at the end of last week and then for the weekend we all made our way to the North East. My parents and the children on Friday afternoon; I drove up on Friday evening and Jude caught the train and pottered over in style from Knutsford.

We stayed at this place – Number 8, Bamburgh, a recently refurbished cottage with a view straight down to the castle, a short walk from the beach and next door to the pub! Sadly, we didn’t get a chance to enjoy their hospitality. Next time, perhaps.

By the time Jude and I got there, the children had decided that this was the best place in the world to stay. Mainly because of the playground down by the castle and the tube slide that Joel would launch himself into. Watching him wasn’t for the faint hearted.

My main plan was to try and get a 10-11 mile run in on Saturday. The morning was absolutely glorious, so we went for a walk down to the beach to let breakfast settle and by about 11 I was thinking about going out. Just at that point, the wind picked up and the clouds were starting to roll in from the north.

The route was taken from walkjogrun. It looked straightforward enough – so out I headed. First up, was a run through a golf course. I’d looked at the map and had wondered if there was a path around the side of the course or at least something that would give me an idea where to go. It turns out there wasn’t. Instead I had to plod through between fairways and greens trying to stick to what looked like flattened grass and trying not to annoy the golfers (who watched me with some amusement, it seemed). This also turned out to be quite a bit hillier than I’d expected. Not like some insane fell run, but a good bit of up and downhill, on grass, dodging golf balls. It turns out this was the easy bit.

Next up was a stretch of inland running from the course over to Seahouses, about 4 miles down a tiny country lane, which weaved around and presented me with lots of small but steep hills. I confess that by the time I came to my sixth or seventh (I lost count) I had to walk the last bit. It was about this time when it started to rain and my desire to actually complete the run was seeping away fast. “No one will mind if I stop” I thought. “Everyone will understand, it was hilly and windy and raining and shit. Maybe I’ll call Jude”. Somehow some force pushed me through this and I kept going – I think I was at my lowest just as the road turned into a long gentle downhill stretch. Oh the relief!

I’d been listening to the Malcolm Gladwell book “David and Goliath” which had been interesting (but not great). While I was running, the author turned his attentions to the way crime was being tackled in California – specifically the “three strikes and you’re out” law. This involved quite a bit of discussion around a father who’s daughter had been shot. The book ends on a particularly poignant note and I hit it at around 15km in, about 1km into my run along the coast road back towards the castle.

Tired and facing yet another uphill stretch, I could have happily sat and wept rather than carry on; but I dug out some Arcade Fire for a bit of push to the end. Just before finishing I passed a herd of cows. All I could think of was steak. By that point I think I was on auto-pilot.

It felt like it had been gruelling, but the pace was the fastest of the four long runs from the past four weeks, and that was despite the terrain and the hills. So I was really very pleased about it. Didn’t hurt too much afterwards and was able to spend the rest of the day hard at work playing various card games and enjoying a beer.

Today has been all about Lindisfarne. We visited the Priory and the castle, sat on the corner of Holy Island and about as bleak as you could imagine. I’ve wanted to go for a long time, but never really had a good idea of what it would be like. The weather was cold and windy again today – at least it didn’t rain – but it made the island feel empty and isolated, despite the small village by the priory.

If I’m really honest, it wasn’t as amazing as I’d hoped. I suppose that I was expecting something like the Giant’s Causeway visitors centre that we had visited last August. But I suppose the relatively small number of people getting to Holy Island means that the investment isn’t forthcoming. Plus, let’s face it, it’s another ruined priory – and they’re all over the place.

The castle is a bit different. Perched on top of a rocky outcrop, it had been turned into a holiday home in the early 1900’s before being handed over to the National Trust.

A fascinating place and worth the visit. The view from the top is spectacular, taking in the coastline with Banbrough in the distance.

There’s obviously a lot to explore up there, but we didn’t really have the time to do it justice. Only enough time to get home, relax for a short time before dinner and heading home. Maybe if I’d put my mind to it, I could have got another run in, but I was put off by yesterday’s effort.

I think we’ll go again, and I think that we would go to this cottage again. And hopefully, by that time, I’ll be a bit better at the long runs.