This morning, Tuesday, the last day of July 2007, I awoke and the sky was depressingly grey and contrary to weather forecasting expectations, so I decided to pursue an indoor work programme at the computer and a house clean. Then before 11am the skies cleared, so I abandoned what I was doing and as quickly as possible headed for the point where I had last ended my walk from the Tyne to the Wear rivers. My first masterstroke was to park the vehicle at the roadside closest to the Marsden Bay and Grotto as possible, and then walk diagonally across the Leas to where I had previously reached which meant at the conclusion I would only have a couple of a hundred yards from the Grotto to the car, psychologically better than being aware of having to walk between a kilometre or two, or over a mile more back.
The second was not to cheat, and return to the precise last point of departure and this led to the discovery of a pathway, a gradual decline down to the northern most part of Marsden Bay. Before then I found what appears to be the widest stretch between the coast road and the cliff edge which is separated by a length of wild growth hedge which on approaching appears to be before the cliff edge, only to find that there is some distance because the ground slopes away gradually before reaching the plateau edge of benches, footpath and cycle way. The distance between road and cliff edge is probably as much as kilometre and provided great views of open space, as well as of the coast line in both directions with some distance along the Northumbrian coast to the industrial headland of Alcan Aluminium smelter and power station at Lynemouth at Ashington, part of the world wide conglomerate, and then the wide semi circular sweep of Marsden Bay.
The third master stroke was to remember to bring the walking stick, a memento from my mother in law and without this I would not have felt able to take the amazing pathway down to bay, amazing because for the greater part of twenty years I had motored past this point on my way to work and back in all seasons unaware of its existence or subsequently. I had seen and photographed the sea as it rolled in and glistened in the sunshine, but as I descended I could only hear the surf.
At the end of the pathway there was opportunity for a good look around and to work out if there was a way between the rocks below the cliff on to the main area of sand, and then onto the Marsden Grotto bar restaurant, The air appeared pure and the sun was so warm that I put on a hat. There were others in the distance but the bay is wide at least a kilometre, over half a mile, and there was a sense of having the place to oneself. It was a glorious moment and I laughed that people in their millions paid thousands, travelling uncomfortably great distances, to have such an experience which had been on my doorstep unbeknown for three decades.
My first effort to reach the main area of sand was unsuccessful because the rocks were too high and I was not wearing appropriate clothing, particularly boots. I needed to retrace steps to almost my starting point, head for the sea edge and then cut across, and this worked and soon was I was approaching a tall singular rock stack as high as he cliff and only a few meters from it, This was the first sentinel, indicating the long term but continuous erosion of the cliff face and which should warn visitors not to walk, let alone sit near their base. A further distance on there is what was a sea rescue first aid station, closed and looking unused. This is by steep almost vertical steps which lead to the car park above. At this point there was a party of two men and youngsters wearing waterproofs and headgear who were heading out into the water. I was curious to know what they were up to, but not sufficiently to stop, and continued across the sand and then out towards the Marsden Rock bird sanctuary. This is an imposing chunk of rock, again as high as the overlooking cliffs but some distance away marking where the land once ended, and topped by birds. It was in my time part of a double stack with connecting arch, but this became dangerous and had to be blown up and then removed because of the danger to children and others who could not resist exploration during the hours of low tide.
I made my way back across the sand from the main rock stack and then through the pebble beach to the first level of the renamed Inn to its Jack's Fish bar, grabbing the available table at one end of the patio. It was glorious, I know I have just used this word but it describes the feeling of joy at living long enough to experience this event. At the bar I ordered a baguette, expensive at £5.50, but priceless considering the location and views. It was filled to overflowing with prawns accompanied by a small salad, which made me wonder what one gets for the full salad at a further £2. It was delicious accompanied by still bottled water and ice. I lingered writing these notes, deciding that I would not explore further and leave the walk to Souter Point Lighthouse and tea room until later in the week, tomorrow perhaps if the weather permits, as it is the kind of summer where every opportunity to go out must be seized.
The menu also included a brief and interesting history of the restaurant. Marsden Bay was the main smugglers' landing area from the European ports and Jack, aged 80, and retiring as an Allenhead miner, and his wife, had decided to live in the cave with the consequence that gentle folk came in carriages to view the couple who then had the great idea of providing refreshments.
The cave was developed into an Inn and at one point a smuggler was shot and his ghost is said to haunt the building since, to the extent that a pint is left out for him each evening and is sometimes drunk. Another man who betrayed his comrades was imprisoned in a barrel which was held by the winch which took the contraband from ground level to the top through a cave shaft, and now I am not sue which incident created the ghost.
The main development of the cave into a substantial building occurred during the tenure of Peter Allen who lived by or inside from 1828 until 1874 with his wife and family. He commenced work to create an eight room building which included a kitchen, ballroom and bedrooms, while living in a tent and selling refreshments to pay for the development work. At one point he was forced to pay annual rent of £10 with a lease for 20 years.
The facility was then acquired by the Whitburn, subsequently renamed Harton, Coal Mining company, who installed a barrister as landlord but who unfortunately was a serious gambler. His departure led to a succession of tenants and to the facility degenerating.
At the turn of the century (1898) the lease was acquired by Vaux a Sunderland brewery company who occupied a riverside town centre site close to the main bridge into Sunderland, and subsequently owned the main hotel of the town, at Seaburn, a few metres from my former home of thirty years. A decade ago the fortunes of the company changed first with the selling of the hotel to the Marriott chain, and then abandoning the brewery which has since been demolished, acquired by a supermarket chain but remains the subject of various planning issues and development proposals. Vaux had bought out the Marsden Grotto premises in 1939 but the turn of the 20th century saw it abandoned once more until the latest owners, Oxford Hotel and Inns acquired the property in 2006.
While I had not known of the northern pathway I had previously been to the Restaurant for meals with the most memorable, a small lunch party of five with Lord Hunt in 1991, who led the first climb of Everest to mark the Coronation of the Queen. I had also taken the senior medical officer of the Department of Health responsible for drug prevention programmes, who had come to visit the provision of facilities supported by the local authority and provided by several independent agencies.
Reflecting on these and other previous visits, I decided that I should return and work, although the temptation to stay, or explore further along the coast was strong.. The only indication that one is moving as the lift ascends to the top, is a flashing red arrow until the door open and you take the covered walkway over building below into the car park which brings a constant flow of visitors to view the bird colony. It is also used by fire brigades to train staff to make cliff rescues at one side of the Inn, while on the other are now a now closed second steep stairway. It was as I commenced the walk back, taking photographs of the new perspectives that I remembered I had left the walking stick and had to return to recover it from where it had been left.
Although the adventure had lasted less than three hours I felt in a celebratory mood and since the returning home enjoying smoked salmon on crackers with lemon and a glass of rose wine from Portugal, watching Big Brother house which as anticipated has become interesting and worthy of close attention once more. One decision made over lunch is to create a picture book account with 101 of the most favoured photos from the walk between the two rivers although this will be part of a masterwork detailing former life on the two rivers, with the Tyne to Newcastle some dozen miles to its mouth and the Wear to just as ancient a Cathedral and Castled city of Durham, over twenty miles inland.
My interest now is the transformation of the rivers, and of coast in between, once full of ship building, repair and transporting of energy sources, goods and people, and of coal mining, miles out into the North Sea. While large vessels twice daily take and return people and goods' vehicles to North European ports and their cities, the rivers are being given over to marinas, new housing and commercial offices and enterprises, as well as cultural developments such as the Sage Concerts Halls and the Baltic Contemporary Art centre, and the former Customs House centre in South Shields.
I also need to work on material related to my new era of supporting the two soccer teams I have supported for over thirty years but not both at the same time as now. On Saturday I decided to invest £1.99 to watch online the next four preparatory games of Sunderland, three of which are in Eire, one in Cork the hometown of the club Manager Roy Keane. This was the carrot to taking out a subscription of £35 enabling video clips of game highlights and match interviews throughout the coming season. But on the evening I could not log on and in frustration I cancelled the subscription. I had also checked to see if the game was being shown on TV and found that it was on Satanta TV, and who with Sky are to show Premiership matches live throughout the season At first I thought the match was being shown without taking a subscription, but this was not so and being a preseason friendly, and knowing from experience these are poor matches, I decided not to bother.
On Monday before the second game involving Sunderland I investigated the Premiership matches being shown on Satanta before Christmas and found that there was an unexpected number of North East games including Sunderland away, Newcastle at home and away and involving the Borough for a monthly subscription of £10. On reflection this is not surprising because Satanta is a Celtic company focussing on sport in Ireland and Scotland and where there are already close links with Northern Clubs, with Berwick at the northern edge of Northumberland playing in Scottish leagues, and regular visits to and from Celtic and Rangers for special matches.
So on Monday I went ahead only to get an online notice of a technical problem and to contact by telephone which I did only to be told that the subscription had gone through and I was connected. Everything I do involving technology seems to have its twist and turn before working effectively! Perhaps it is me?
I hesitated over the decision not to renew the Newcastle Season ticket, but now I know it was the right one not to do so. For the same amount as I spent last year I have a season ticket for Sunderland home premiership matches, and are also able to pay for the football viewing component of the Sky Satellite subscription and now for Satanta, together with the opportunity to view all matches whether they are shown live or not.
Thus on Tuesday evening I enjoyed the rest of the wine, some mini barbecue sticks of pork in paprika, some vegetables and a good chunk of lamb followed by the last portion of the sweet juicy red cherries. Then my mood changed with the third Guarding the Queen programme and where the action alternated between preparations for the Queen's birthday parade of Trooping the Colours, and active service in Afghanistan. During the making of this part of the series two guardsman had been killed, one had been interviewed prior to his departure and included in the second programme. The programme showed the extent to which the whole regiment was affected and attempted to communicate their distress and support to the families of the two soldiers. A sister described her brother as an insecure and shy young man who had become a self confident and proud soldier and who had died doing what he wanted to do. A father also spoke on camera in similar terms about his son, accompanied by his wife, the grieving mother. It puts into perspective the events of the Big Brother House which had commenced and ended my day.
Earlier I had woken three times and returned to sleep after having to rise to go to the toilet. The fourth occasion it was still early, seven thirtyish, having gone to bed and immediately to sleep around 1 am, deciding to abandon Big Brother, watching after tricky dickey Ziggy, who volunteered to move into the Half Way house, thus joining the visual feast of the shy and vulnerable glamour model; the in your face, overweight self confessed tartlet who revealed she is also a mother, and the museum worker former boss eccentric virgin who adores spanking and being spanked, intelligent, full of mimicry, surrounding himself with soft toys with whom he usually holds prolonged and loving conversations. However as the day progressed the real, nice and interesting people behind the orchestrated presentation began to emerge.
In the main House the other housemates had selected what I suspect they thought to be the least unconventional and least challenging to their position newcomers who would fit into the existing dynamics of the house which had received a rude shock with the departure of its two contrasting prima donnas and drama queens of Charley and Chanelle. They selected the predatory, self admitted former gay who wore make up and arrived wearing a kilt to emphasis his Scottishness, and the bright and apparently most normal and non acting young woman of all the female participants to-date whose staying in the background had enabled her to almost slip into being invited unnoticed, but Big brother already had other plans.
I call Ziggy tricky dickey because he oozes sincerity but successfully gets rid of his bedmate Chanelle when the more physically attractive glamour model arrives, and seizes the opportunity to join her in the half way house to the disappointment of Liam who was aware that she fancied him, and he her, and where the Scottish lad had immediately hit on her and been given the brush off. I liked and disliked both Chanelle and Ziggy because of their apparent cold hearted calculating and ruthless pursuing of wanting to win the competition, especially after learning there was still a monetary prize of £100000 on offer, and the evident conflict of emotions about each other, at one level knowing and accepting that it was a relationship of convenience, which originally provided a secure and mutually self interest platform to tackle everyone and everything else (and which is a more normal situation when there are fewer females than males, so the females immediately look for someone to satisfy their needs and protect them from the constant attentions of all the other males), yet also hoping it is " the" relationship, and also being concerned about how their relationship and their behaviour looks to their families, to their friends and to the public in general. This was the give away factor in my judgement because both were more concerned about what others thought of themselves than they did about each other.
During the day the game significantly changed as it was learnt that two of those remaining in the half way house would be given the opportunity to enter or re-enter the main house, to a possible four out of five. However the twist is that the successful two had to immediately nominate someone from the main house to replace them. Thus had Ziggy won the first competition he could have returned but been called back in again by the second competition winner. In the event it was the stripper, and she full of genuine embarrassment had the bright idea to chose Liam so he and Amy the glamour model could decide if there was to be a romance. However this situation may be short lived because today there is a second competition with the same consequence of one in and one out, and then the remaining four individuals in the half way house will be up for a public vote as to who should leave permanently, although nothing is ever permanent with Big Brother and who knows Ziggy and Liam could be out, Chanelle, Tracey and any of the others already evicted for the final weeks. At 3.30 am it was time for sleep after a good but long day.
The second was not to cheat, and return to the precise last point of departure and this led to the discovery of a pathway, a gradual decline down to the northern most part of Marsden Bay. Before then I found what appears to be the widest stretch between the coast road and the cliff edge which is separated by a length of wild growth hedge which on approaching appears to be before the cliff edge, only to find that there is some distance because the ground slopes away gradually before reaching the plateau edge of benches, footpath and cycle way. The distance between road and cliff edge is probably as much as kilometre and provided great views of open space, as well as of the coast line in both directions with some distance along the Northumbrian coast to the industrial headland of Alcan Aluminium smelter and power station at Lynemouth at Ashington, part of the world wide conglomerate, and then the wide semi circular sweep of Marsden Bay.
The third master stroke was to remember to bring the walking stick, a memento from my mother in law and without this I would not have felt able to take the amazing pathway down to bay, amazing because for the greater part of twenty years I had motored past this point on my way to work and back in all seasons unaware of its existence or subsequently. I had seen and photographed the sea as it rolled in and glistened in the sunshine, but as I descended I could only hear the surf.
At the end of the pathway there was opportunity for a good look around and to work out if there was a way between the rocks below the cliff on to the main area of sand, and then onto the Marsden Grotto bar restaurant, The air appeared pure and the sun was so warm that I put on a hat. There were others in the distance but the bay is wide at least a kilometre, over half a mile, and there was a sense of having the place to oneself. It was a glorious moment and I laughed that people in their millions paid thousands, travelling uncomfortably great distances, to have such an experience which had been on my doorstep unbeknown for three decades.
My first effort to reach the main area of sand was unsuccessful because the rocks were too high and I was not wearing appropriate clothing, particularly boots. I needed to retrace steps to almost my starting point, head for the sea edge and then cut across, and this worked and soon was I was approaching a tall singular rock stack as high as he cliff and only a few meters from it, This was the first sentinel, indicating the long term but continuous erosion of the cliff face and which should warn visitors not to walk, let alone sit near their base. A further distance on there is what was a sea rescue first aid station, closed and looking unused. This is by steep almost vertical steps which lead to the car park above. At this point there was a party of two men and youngsters wearing waterproofs and headgear who were heading out into the water. I was curious to know what they were up to, but not sufficiently to stop, and continued across the sand and then out towards the Marsden Rock bird sanctuary. This is an imposing chunk of rock, again as high as the overlooking cliffs but some distance away marking where the land once ended, and topped by birds. It was in my time part of a double stack with connecting arch, but this became dangerous and had to be blown up and then removed because of the danger to children and others who could not resist exploration during the hours of low tide.
I made my way back across the sand from the main rock stack and then through the pebble beach to the first level of the renamed Inn to its Jack's Fish bar, grabbing the available table at one end of the patio. It was glorious, I know I have just used this word but it describes the feeling of joy at living long enough to experience this event. At the bar I ordered a baguette, expensive at £5.50, but priceless considering the location and views. It was filled to overflowing with prawns accompanied by a small salad, which made me wonder what one gets for the full salad at a further £2. It was delicious accompanied by still bottled water and ice. I lingered writing these notes, deciding that I would not explore further and leave the walk to Souter Point Lighthouse and tea room until later in the week, tomorrow perhaps if the weather permits, as it is the kind of summer where every opportunity to go out must be seized.
The menu also included a brief and interesting history of the restaurant. Marsden Bay was the main smugglers' landing area from the European ports and Jack, aged 80, and retiring as an Allenhead miner, and his wife, had decided to live in the cave with the consequence that gentle folk came in carriages to view the couple who then had the great idea of providing refreshments.
The cave was developed into an Inn and at one point a smuggler was shot and his ghost is said to haunt the building since, to the extent that a pint is left out for him each evening and is sometimes drunk. Another man who betrayed his comrades was imprisoned in a barrel which was held by the winch which took the contraband from ground level to the top through a cave shaft, and now I am not sue which incident created the ghost.
The main development of the cave into a substantial building occurred during the tenure of Peter Allen who lived by or inside from 1828 until 1874 with his wife and family. He commenced work to create an eight room building which included a kitchen, ballroom and bedrooms, while living in a tent and selling refreshments to pay for the development work. At one point he was forced to pay annual rent of £10 with a lease for 20 years.
The facility was then acquired by the Whitburn, subsequently renamed Harton, Coal Mining company, who installed a barrister as landlord but who unfortunately was a serious gambler. His departure led to a succession of tenants and to the facility degenerating.
At the turn of the century (1898) the lease was acquired by Vaux a Sunderland brewery company who occupied a riverside town centre site close to the main bridge into Sunderland, and subsequently owned the main hotel of the town, at Seaburn, a few metres from my former home of thirty years. A decade ago the fortunes of the company changed first with the selling of the hotel to the Marriott chain, and then abandoning the brewery which has since been demolished, acquired by a supermarket chain but remains the subject of various planning issues and development proposals. Vaux had bought out the Marsden Grotto premises in 1939 but the turn of the 20th century saw it abandoned once more until the latest owners, Oxford Hotel and Inns acquired the property in 2006.
While I had not known of the northern pathway I had previously been to the Restaurant for meals with the most memorable, a small lunch party of five with Lord Hunt in 1991, who led the first climb of Everest to mark the Coronation of the Queen. I had also taken the senior medical officer of the Department of Health responsible for drug prevention programmes, who had come to visit the provision of facilities supported by the local authority and provided by several independent agencies.
Reflecting on these and other previous visits, I decided that I should return and work, although the temptation to stay, or explore further along the coast was strong.. The only indication that one is moving as the lift ascends to the top, is a flashing red arrow until the door open and you take the covered walkway over building below into the car park which brings a constant flow of visitors to view the bird colony. It is also used by fire brigades to train staff to make cliff rescues at one side of the Inn, while on the other are now a now closed second steep stairway. It was as I commenced the walk back, taking photographs of the new perspectives that I remembered I had left the walking stick and had to return to recover it from where it had been left.
Although the adventure had lasted less than three hours I felt in a celebratory mood and since the returning home enjoying smoked salmon on crackers with lemon and a glass of rose wine from Portugal, watching Big Brother house which as anticipated has become interesting and worthy of close attention once more. One decision made over lunch is to create a picture book account with 101 of the most favoured photos from the walk between the two rivers although this will be part of a masterwork detailing former life on the two rivers, with the Tyne to Newcastle some dozen miles to its mouth and the Wear to just as ancient a Cathedral and Castled city of Durham, over twenty miles inland.
My interest now is the transformation of the rivers, and of coast in between, once full of ship building, repair and transporting of energy sources, goods and people, and of coal mining, miles out into the North Sea. While large vessels twice daily take and return people and goods' vehicles to North European ports and their cities, the rivers are being given over to marinas, new housing and commercial offices and enterprises, as well as cultural developments such as the Sage Concerts Halls and the Baltic Contemporary Art centre, and the former Customs House centre in South Shields.
I also need to work on material related to my new era of supporting the two soccer teams I have supported for over thirty years but not both at the same time as now. On Saturday I decided to invest £1.99 to watch online the next four preparatory games of Sunderland, three of which are in Eire, one in Cork the hometown of the club Manager Roy Keane. This was the carrot to taking out a subscription of £35 enabling video clips of game highlights and match interviews throughout the coming season. But on the evening I could not log on and in frustration I cancelled the subscription. I had also checked to see if the game was being shown on TV and found that it was on Satanta TV, and who with Sky are to show Premiership matches live throughout the season At first I thought the match was being shown without taking a subscription, but this was not so and being a preseason friendly, and knowing from experience these are poor matches, I decided not to bother.
On Monday before the second game involving Sunderland I investigated the Premiership matches being shown on Satanta before Christmas and found that there was an unexpected number of North East games including Sunderland away, Newcastle at home and away and involving the Borough for a monthly subscription of £10. On reflection this is not surprising because Satanta is a Celtic company focussing on sport in Ireland and Scotland and where there are already close links with Northern Clubs, with Berwick at the northern edge of Northumberland playing in Scottish leagues, and regular visits to and from Celtic and Rangers for special matches.
So on Monday I went ahead only to get an online notice of a technical problem and to contact by telephone which I did only to be told that the subscription had gone through and I was connected. Everything I do involving technology seems to have its twist and turn before working effectively! Perhaps it is me?
I hesitated over the decision not to renew the Newcastle Season ticket, but now I know it was the right one not to do so. For the same amount as I spent last year I have a season ticket for Sunderland home premiership matches, and are also able to pay for the football viewing component of the Sky Satellite subscription and now for Satanta, together with the opportunity to view all matches whether they are shown live or not.
Thus on Tuesday evening I enjoyed the rest of the wine, some mini barbecue sticks of pork in paprika, some vegetables and a good chunk of lamb followed by the last portion of the sweet juicy red cherries. Then my mood changed with the third Guarding the Queen programme and where the action alternated between preparations for the Queen's birthday parade of Trooping the Colours, and active service in Afghanistan. During the making of this part of the series two guardsman had been killed, one had been interviewed prior to his departure and included in the second programme. The programme showed the extent to which the whole regiment was affected and attempted to communicate their distress and support to the families of the two soldiers. A sister described her brother as an insecure and shy young man who had become a self confident and proud soldier and who had died doing what he wanted to do. A father also spoke on camera in similar terms about his son, accompanied by his wife, the grieving mother. It puts into perspective the events of the Big Brother House which had commenced and ended my day.
Earlier I had woken three times and returned to sleep after having to rise to go to the toilet. The fourth occasion it was still early, seven thirtyish, having gone to bed and immediately to sleep around 1 am, deciding to abandon Big Brother, watching after tricky dickey Ziggy, who volunteered to move into the Half Way house, thus joining the visual feast of the shy and vulnerable glamour model; the in your face, overweight self confessed tartlet who revealed she is also a mother, and the museum worker former boss eccentric virgin who adores spanking and being spanked, intelligent, full of mimicry, surrounding himself with soft toys with whom he usually holds prolonged and loving conversations. However as the day progressed the real, nice and interesting people behind the orchestrated presentation began to emerge.
In the main House the other housemates had selected what I suspect they thought to be the least unconventional and least challenging to their position newcomers who would fit into the existing dynamics of the house which had received a rude shock with the departure of its two contrasting prima donnas and drama queens of Charley and Chanelle. They selected the predatory, self admitted former gay who wore make up and arrived wearing a kilt to emphasis his Scottishness, and the bright and apparently most normal and non acting young woman of all the female participants to-date whose staying in the background had enabled her to almost slip into being invited unnoticed, but Big brother already had other plans.
I call Ziggy tricky dickey because he oozes sincerity but successfully gets rid of his bedmate Chanelle when the more physically attractive glamour model arrives, and seizes the opportunity to join her in the half way house to the disappointment of Liam who was aware that she fancied him, and he her, and where the Scottish lad had immediately hit on her and been given the brush off. I liked and disliked both Chanelle and Ziggy because of their apparent cold hearted calculating and ruthless pursuing of wanting to win the competition, especially after learning there was still a monetary prize of £100000 on offer, and the evident conflict of emotions about each other, at one level knowing and accepting that it was a relationship of convenience, which originally provided a secure and mutually self interest platform to tackle everyone and everything else (and which is a more normal situation when there are fewer females than males, so the females immediately look for someone to satisfy their needs and protect them from the constant attentions of all the other males), yet also hoping it is " the" relationship, and also being concerned about how their relationship and their behaviour looks to their families, to their friends and to the public in general. This was the give away factor in my judgement because both were more concerned about what others thought of themselves than they did about each other.
During the day the game significantly changed as it was learnt that two of those remaining in the half way house would be given the opportunity to enter or re-enter the main house, to a possible four out of five. However the twist is that the successful two had to immediately nominate someone from the main house to replace them. Thus had Ziggy won the first competition he could have returned but been called back in again by the second competition winner. In the event it was the stripper, and she full of genuine embarrassment had the bright idea to chose Liam so he and Amy the glamour model could decide if there was to be a romance. However this situation may be short lived because today there is a second competition with the same consequence of one in and one out, and then the remaining four individuals in the half way house will be up for a public vote as to who should leave permanently, although nothing is ever permanent with Big Brother and who knows Ziggy and Liam could be out, Chanelle, Tracey and any of the others already evicted for the final weeks. At 3.30 am it was time for sleep after a good but long day.
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