Day 12- Thirsk to Sunderland

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Sunday the 6th of May 1973

Was, as it turns out, a special day for me

When a little blonde boy who has long since gone.

He hated Sundays, they were empty, quiet and long

But this was a Sunday like no other

As he waited in a purple hotel with his little brother

In came the heroes of yesterdays FA Cup

Some wore suits, some still looked like they were all 'shook up'

A ginger player took him by the hand

And introduced him to the players of Sunderland

With the goalie he took a champagne sip

And often when he goes on a memory trip

He wonders if when he left the room, all quiet and shy

He didn't turn around and say goodbye

And now 41 years later, the boy is but a lovely ghost

But the Dad that replaced him still likes his marmite on toast !!

And 41 years later the Dad is visiting that famous town

And celebrating with all the others that Sunderland didn't go down



A friend of mine arrived last night - Martin from Wootton Bassett to cover this stretch with me. I know him from Wootton Bassett and again a football connection - where I would be without football, friends wise, does not bear thinking about. But after a Wetherspoons breakfast we were on the bike at just after 9am and rolling out of Thirsk. The pace in the day was very good and the towns we went through were good looking and obviously worked but the scenery was relatively unspectacular. That said this was day number 6 of this my second leg so there is a good chance I had become spoilt by all the lovely scenery to date, similarly though I was also looking forward to getting into Sunderland - a town I don't know like the back of my hand but do like and the more often I come feel more and more at home.

After a rough patch of lost looking towns and areas at 4pm we arrived in Sunderland and my heart was pumping as we cycled over the Wearmouth Bridge and then round the Stadium of Light - I pointed out our family brick to Martin and I felt strangely proud. Proud I had a very small stake in this hard working, likeable, friendly city and proud I had cycled all the way from my home town of Wootton Bassett.

We were booked into the Roker Hotel - a not too fancy but not plain hotel looking out across the North sea, that when I was about 16 and used to come to watch the occasional game, I would pass by whilst trying to pass time before kick off in the early 1980's and here I am staying there for the night and feeling like I am vaguely part of things. The night brought the inevitable few drinks out - I enjoy going out up here - people throw themselves into it as if there is no tomorrow and I was celebrating since I had finished leg 2 and I would imagine in total travelled about 550 miles - still I think only just halfway though so some distance still to go. But that was for another day,for now I had a night out to have.

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