`Wish you weren't here' letter.

A letter from a monk, almost certainly from Tynemouth's mother house at St Albans, gives a colourful impression of life on the headland in the 13th Century.

"Our house is confined to the top of a high rock and is surrounded by the sea on every side but one.

"Day and night the waves break and roar. Thick sea frets roll in wrapping everything in gloom. Dim eyes, hoarse voices, sore throats are the consequence.

"Spring and summer never come here. The north wind is always blowing and brings with it cold and snow; or storms in which the wind tosses the salt sea in masses over our buildings.

"In the spring the sea air blights the blossoms of the stunted fruit trees, so that you think yourself lucky to find a wizened apple, though it will set your teeth on edge should you try to eat it.

"See to it, dear brother, that you do not come to this comfortless place. But the church is of wondrous beauty. It has lately been completed.

"We are well off for food, thanks to the abundant supply of fish of which we tire."