Welcome back!
Let's get stuck into some decent stuff now, I might still have the odd gripe but we'll see an improvement with this bunch.
Seven pubs tonight so make yourself an extra big drink and snack.
14. Harry's Bar, Alnwick
With a pelvis wrestly, and a bladder sadder, I hobble heavily into this cutesie brick-clad late night micro. Low lights. Friendly welcome. A younger crowd than the Northumbrian avg. smile politely, supping craft beer in a studious way, before adding a joyless comment free Untappd check in. I ask for Amarillo but the beer is actually called Armadillo. Pelvis and bladder recover as the beer goes down superbly - it had been a long old bus ride from High Newton by the Sea. I confess this experience passed me by on the whole, but it certainly wasn't unpleasant. Fifth pint of the day syndrome had kicked in. Not sure I'd bin the majestic John Bull out of the GBG for this, but that's more personal pub style preference, besides I'd trust Alnwick CAMRA more than one BRAPA fly-by-nighter.
13. Rose & Crown, Slaley
A deathly quiet pub for one with so many cars parked outside, this is my 'early awkward bastard morale booster tick' (all BRAPA holidays must have one). Limited opening hours, in a county where hrs are more generous than most, the buses are also few and far between. For a Grade II listed 1675 building, it didn't exactly grasp me by the shoulders with hands of history. Spearmint painted bar didn't help, made an already chilly pub chillier. Low beamed roof is better, but a fire would've been nice. I'm here a long time nursing my pint and a half of Puffin themed Farne Island (well kept) and in different circs, I can tell the barman is the sort of canny gadgie I could get chatting too. But a local barfly contributes little, and even moodier corner dining oldies mean the atmosphere is somewhat morose. Oh well, wielding the highlighter pen was satisfying anyway!
12. Olde Cross, Old Ryton Village
Real monkey-off-my-back ticking here. The number of times I've contemplated a bus ride out of Newcastle, only to not quite manage it. When I do finally make it, it is from a Prudhoely direction. This turns out to be one of those experiences which you cannot enjoy because the place is so gosh darn busy (Saturday evening) but you have to accept you're in the presence of greatness .... well, goodness. An army of staff deal with the crowds expertly, and with a smile. The Best Bitter from Wylam (all trendy brewers must have a go) is a lip smacker, but try as I might, I cannot find an indoor seat. I even walk my pint to the loo, put it on a sideboard, find a hidden back room, creep slowly around the main bar, eyeball a demonic dog and child duo, but still no joy. Bit nippy out, but dry, and I guess it did garner the most iconic photo I'm likely to take all year!
11. Comrades Club, Haltwhistle
"You DO have cash don't ya?" says the barmaid looking suddenly panic stricken, for another CAMRA member had been in recently, and didn't, so she had to buy his half for him! Luckily I always carry cash, and like to use it where possible, but a shame I didn't get a free pint. She's a nice lass, maybe I should've stayed at bar and chatted because once I'm sat down, I'm a bit too 'out of the way' to make an impression on my fellow Comrades. A nicely appointed spongey, temperate, blue benched local, superior to the Tyne Rowing Club (my only other club this week), though my pint of Big Lamp is weird and fizzy. A feature on the news reckons our neighbours across the pond have cottoned onto the humble British cheese toastie, leading one old boy to comment "a boring cheese sandwich can be improved by adding ham and lettuce" which leads Pub Curmudgeon to conduct a poll asking if lettuce actually improves anything. I said 'no' but seems I'm in the minority. Butterfly effect, in a sense. Talking of small winged things, I make a tit of myself trying to leave as I can't remember where I came in, but the locals pretend not to notice.
10. Masons Arms, Amble
Late night tick of the week, on the bus back from Alnwick after a long day on the coast, I just wanted my bed and food but thought 'I'm not gonna get a better chance than this' and I'm glad I hopped off. Very 'on brand' for 2024 GBG entries, where the sunny seaside micro of 2022 has been binned off in favour of this uncompromising backstreet bollock buster. Is the barman wearing a stab or bulletproof vest? He looks secure anyway. Kinda place that punches you in the face with a velvet glove. Their slogan could be "we don't want any of your bullshit .... but we are delighted to have you here". I've said it before and I'll say it again, nowt better than seeing 'yoofs' using pubs as nature intended. Tonnes of 18-23's playing darts, pool, 'avin a laff, it is what makes Sheffield's Rutland Arms and York's Golden Ball such stand out pubs, and whilst this ain't in that category, it's heart warming just the same. Exciting Mad Jack beer from 'First & Last', tastes like a fart in a jar but is also somehow citrus deliciousness, which I enjoy whilst cowering n' quaking in the furthest corner of the quietest room, claiming I feel totally at home.
9. Wheatsheaf, Corbridge
Along similar lines as the Masons at Amble in terms of "corr(bridge), it feels so un-GBGy and yet I like it". I initially wonder quite what the 'eck I'd walked into. Folk trying to spear me with pool cues too busy watching the egg chasers, a couple of hi-vis Madri drinkers prod accusatorily at a defenceless jukebox, and no bar staff in sight. One pump, Timmy Taylor Landlord, the badge is half dropping off, it is at a jaunty angle, you can imagine why I've got my doubts! Two fake Grant McCann's wander up to the fruit machine and drain the cash. Barmaid finally appears, very friendly, nice chat about the hailstones outside, big as cherries. And then I try the TTL, wowsas, pint of the week! What lacings. My old mate Christine once told me you get a good pint of TTL, and I mean a really good pint of TTL, there's not much better. So it proved here. The pub makes sense after that. Low-key, basic, even a bit 'Bedfordshire' at times, but it got under my skin, in the best possible way.
8. Battlesteads Hotel, Wark
That huge glass entrance door is so unpubby, it has me fearing the worst at this hotel bar north of Hexham. I only had half an hour max as the bus was due back soon, turning around at the top (Bellingham). So the last thing I needed was Corbridge style AWOL staff. Gives me chance to admire the poshest range of doggie treats I've seen anywhere. I'm sure a couple of kitchen ladies blank me, but thankfully this gent sees my desperate look and grabs a dewy eyed stripling to serve me. 22 mins max drinking time now. Thankfully my pint of North Sea doesn't taste like it has been dredged from the ocean. And what a surprisingly cosy place, evoking Scottish memories of Blair Atholl amongst others. Really homely, mood lighting, deep green, low ceiling, plush seating. It smells of Christmas trees and English breakfast tea. Highlight though is on my way out, dashing for the bus. I cross the road at the same time as a lady finishing her shift. "Like Piccadilly Circus around here!" I say as traffic whooshes past, we get chatting, she used to live in York, so we chat up to the bus stop (she finds Wark boring and wants to move back home), then when the bus reappears, the driver treats me like long lost friend. "Nice quick pint!" I tell her, and I wasn't even joking.
And there we have it. Probably Monday when I'm back to tell you about part 4.
Keep on pubbing, Si
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