One of the pleasures of life is to sit somewhere watching other people going backwards and forwards about their business when you don't have to be about yours, be it a railway station - where I was today - or a bus station, or maybe even an airport. I used to have to commute through Heathrow when there were staffing problems on the railways (when were there ever not?) I'm glad I don't have to do that these days - I'd have to buy a decent laptop as the battery on my pda wouldn't last that journey - but people watching has endless attractions.

Newcastle on a Friday afternoon sees the cocks and hens assembling for a weekend of rowdy partying in the party capital of the universe, and the air is filled with the rumble of tiny wheels and the jolly cries of men and women who are determined to enjoy themselves, even if it kills them (the amount some will drink - even of the well watered wine served in most of Tyneside's watering joles - makes that a distinct possibility) Matching tee shirts and pink fluffy hats are almost de rigeur, but today I saw a man in a complete Robin outfit (the Boy Wonder not the bird) and was reminded of the time I saw the Green Cross Man emerge from Camberwell police station in his full silver and green costume. Nobody paid him any attention either.

Cool or blase? I watched them both, and I know I am not cool, and I hope I am not blase.