80 years ago, on Easter Sunday, as a nine year old boy I experienced a day to remember at Saltwell Park. Dressed in my Sunday best of brown suit (complete with waistcoat), I fell into the lake while fishing for minnows. Carrying my jam jar with my catch, I boarded the tram to take me home. A pool of water ran from me along both lengths of the bench seat. This sort of irritated the other passengers. I can clearly remember not being able to get my hands into my soaked pockets to get my penny fare. Eventually reaching home, my mother went berserk. Not with delight as her only son had escaped being drowned. No because she hadn't yet paid the first installment off the "ticket" for my fancy 3 piece suit. My catch in the jam - jar went down the toilet - and me - sent to bed Mum's were like that sometimes.

A record turnout of Morpeth Ramblers for yesterday's Gateshead Meander. It was a fascinating day as we fortunately missed the thunderstorm. Those who had never seen Saltwell Park before were simply amazed. Here was this paradise in the middle of South Tyneside's madness. I felt proud of this town I can still call "home".