Sunday Afternoon ...

Chatted with a woman on the Metro on my way to Jesmond.  She told me how much she’d enjoyed visiting Rome, Florence and Milan.

Later, on my way back home, I walked down Newcastle’s Northumberland Street with the bustling crowds.

A young man was playing really good jazz flute, moving around the scales like nobody’s business.

Across the way, there was Pudsey Bear, collecting for charity. 

Further on, another young man, playing gutsy, Hendrix-like guitar, although he was far too young to have been alive at the same time as Hendrix.

Then came a roar from the direction of St James Park

Another few steps and there was a man on African drums, playing a tricky rhythm which many a lion and gazelle must have heard.

Another St James roar.

Then I thought of the Jazz Café a few yards further on, where the jam would be starting up, where anyone with a jazz feel and an instrument could get up and join in.

And I realised that I didn't want to be anywhere else but Newcastle, just for that time. 

Ann Alex.