The arctic terns were dive-bombing our heads because they had laid their eggs close to the boardwalks, but it didn't seem to bother the odd-looking eider ducks that had done exactly the same thing and just settled down in the long grass. It was amazing how close you could get to the birds here - guillemots, razorbills and shags were close enough to touch. Only the puffins kept their distance, but even they were close enough to observe as they waddled comically along the cliff edges. I would like to say this is an English version of the Galápagos Islands, except I haven't been there.

I'm here on a Bank Holiday weekend with Helen, continuing the theme of visiting parts my own country that have somehow managed to elude me previously. On the drive up here, we called at the incredibly impressive Norman cathedral in Durham and spent a night in Newcastle where we splashed out and dined at Blackfriars, which has a medieval feel, and is apparently Britain's oldest restaurant.

Continuing the drive north through coastal fishing villages, we found a puffin festival at Amble that seemed to be an excuse for a craft fair; we spent a night in Alnwick, and visited the Holy Island of Lindisfarne (at low tide of course) before eventually arriving at Berwick-upon-Tweed, just short of the Scottish border. The trip to the Farne Islands was probably the overall highlight, which we visited by boat from the very busy seaside resort of Seahouses.

Posted on 7th November 2015.