Business end of the season, here we go!
Worth also trying to summarise Northumberland in a nutshell, how it compares it other GBG counties, which I'll try and remember to do at the end*.
7. Northumberland Arms, West Thirston
Functioning as a restaurant when I arrive, of that there is no surprise. It is Sunday lunchtime, in a pretty location on bridge over a river, relatively rural but on a main road. But what was delightfully surprising was the first class treatment I received throughout, from all staff - younger, older, male, female. I declare my wet led intentions early, but rather than putting Simey in the corner and treating me as an unnecessary inconvenience (you can imagine they were quite rushed off their feet), they clear a flowery settee in the conservatory, which I temporarily have to share with an exciting tray of condiments. Better than being a bar blocker (the bar was actually full of enforced drinkers). It even has the diners glancing over like "why's he so special? Should we ALL get a Good Beer Guide? Should we ALL own a fluffy cauliflower?" I've never felt more at home than shimmying my way through for pint two half an hour later like some sort of lounge lizard from 1970's New York (bus timings were tough so I had to linger). Both beers were great too, and not standard choices either. First class service.
6. Pont Tap, Ponteland
Up some exciting steps like you're taking your ailing tabby to the vet, this micropub might've had an unremarkable interior which makes you go 'hmmm mmmm', something I admitted to the landlady in a moment of 5th pint 'honesty', but the welcome, plus a good beer redemption arc (no I don't mean it came from Noah in North London) earns it a deserving 6th place finish, and that is playoffs in my eyes. The Hull City of micropubs? Poor buggers. The Bass splutters and dies and I'm gutted cos when you're in the mood for Bass, you're really in the mood! Horny for Bass, is that a thing? An edgy Tony Mowbray barfly laughs at my misfortune. We get chatting. He's spent some time in Luton and has some interesting opinions on the inhabitants. I'm quite glad to wrestle free from him and sit in a far corner. I'd later learn he had a head injury that has affected him. Cognitive! The Amarillo replacement is a top drop, and the landlady is soon back over chatting to me, she's a real superstar, really elevated this pub's standing by making me feel so at home. Good place this.
5. Wor Local, Prudhoe
From one sparkling micro to another, but 'Prud-uh' has the edge because you know what a sucker i am for carpet, and so rare to find a carpetted example. Plus this was a truly 10/10 effort, whereas you may remember at the Cask in Stoneycroft last month, I convinced myself their dreadful carpet was decent! Although I don't get into any specific chats here, there's tonnes of smiley faced characters, and mine host is obviously a sound bloke I can tell from my vantage point close to the bar. A weird lady freaks out a young couple trying to have a quiet drink by not only invading their dog's personal space, but then repeating her trick minutes later with their toddler, despite having her own dog, child and bloke! Look on young Mum's face is priceless like 'eww, go away lass!' The Synchronicity drinks superbly, some bright spark puts The Chase on ahead of the egg chasing which is a bold but genius move the home counties just wouldn't, and the whole place smells vaguely perfumed, a nice change from the headachey beer pong you often get. Strong candidate this for 'promotion' into West Yorkshire (imagine if that was a thing!)
4. Joiners Arms, Morpeth
Tucked away in a back corner of Morpeth, this fascinating full blooded boozer was caught in a strange Sunday afternoon torpor, halfway between that post-lunch soothing slump (staff weren't in any hurry!), and a sporadic twitchy North Eastern restlessness. A chap is hunched over the bar protecting a giant plate of complimentary pickled onions and stilton. My only successful Bass sighting of the week, they seem physically wounded when I ask if it is a regular or guest (regular of course, how very dare I?) The fact that I am happy to secrete myself into an awkward raised corner bench close to dark corridor without complaint, and peer out nervously into the pub centre, says a lot for how fascinated I was by this place. The sort of place I'd imagine people come to hide. Was that Kate Middleton playing doms with the ghost of Lady Di over by the bogs?
3. Tankerville Arms Hotel, Wooler
Having totally f'd up my morning train/bus timings from Newcastle, I'm forced to 'play catch-up' as Henry Kelly used to say, and take an expensive taxi from Berwick. My reward is this utter gem of a hotel bar. There's just this lovely old lady rattling around inside, and she gives me an impromptu guided tour, including this banqueting suite set up for some posh kids 21st birthday in a few days. She's chief pot and bottle washer, ticking tasks off a list, satisfied she couldn't be more organised or prepared. Amazed she finds time to pull me a pint really, Farne Island, the only one on as the Tyneside Blonde finished yesterday. "So you're in luck" she tells me! Later on, she says the owners are looking to sell up, so if I have a spare 2 million lying about and fancy it?! Nice to give off wealthy vibes from time to time! Must be Colin. I ask her if she'll do the guest green highlighting, but she tells me the pressure is a too much. Hope she'll be okay with 60 drunken 21 year olds! The gas man arrives. He needs to get in the cellar. That's my cue to go. Loved this experience.
2. Curfew, Berwick-upon-Tweed
Having left the slightly strange but perfectly okay Atelier, and immediately seen this narrowest of entrances, which you approach through a sort of courtyard, I wasn't at my most mentally positive going into this one, so for it to bag 2nd place and automatic promotion shows what a modern classic it is. Very likeable. I hit it right. That's important in micropubs. The two customers, Billy and Val, are Uncle and Auntie to barmaid Georgia and obviously popping in for family unity, the fact they get a great pub experience obviously a happy coincidence! Unlike at the Tankerville, Billy is more than confident to wield the green Staedtler. I tell him 'what a great photo, very photogenic, could get it printed on a t-shirt!' but Georgia tells me not to boost his already inflated ego! Naughty rugby players are discussed, a very fussy facemask lady makes a spectacle of herself, and tellingly, Mr Atelier comes in for a few jars! After a bit of Polperro chat (it's only polite), I leave, massive smile on face, totally transformed to how I was on arrival. Oh, and the beer, the beer, best quality I had anywhere all week.
Ship Inn, Low-Newton-by-the-Sea
Sometimes in this game, it isn't just about being inside the pub itself, but the theatre of getting there.
And I never felt more on holiday in Northumberland than when I left Embleton, and took the coastal path across a golf course. A bloke hits his ball in the bunker. "That was a silly thing to do!" shouts Colin from my bag, so I nearly end up getting clubbed with a sand wedge. Guilty by association. Before I know it, I'm in sand too, on a beach. I walk into a semi circle of Oystercatchers. Daddy Catcher looks at me like 'you ain't one of us mate'. I think crossing the bridge was a mistake, I've gone too far, two fishermen blink at me. I'm now surrounded by water, but can see a path going up the cliff. Ooops. Cos I have too much pride to turn back, I find the narrowest point and jump across the little sea tributary, getting a shoe full of wet sand. But I don't care, I'm back on track.
Soon, Google Maps joins me up to the path, hurrah! Two maintenance vehicles try to mow me down, but end up waiting for me, one even tells me which side of the path is less muddy to walk on. Some ticks you have to fight for. Then I see the building I think is the pub ......
But it ain't at all obvious. Must be a proper entrance? A Lord of the Manor type comes trotting down the lane, like a heavily drawn Harry Enfield character, so I ask him. He opens the little white door for me. "Bit obscure innit?" I say, and he claims there's a proper entrance around the other side which I somehow missed. I find it on the way out, but think I prefer the original!
But using the locals entrance definitely gives me some much deserved reverence after the trials and tribulations of the walk. I nearly fall backwards over a dog and spill my stout, but I'm so pleased to be here, I chuckle to dog owner "oooh just makes you feel like you've been in a proper pub experience haha" and she seems to appreciate it. Talking of dogs, this pub has the best dog policy I've ever seen (see below). I have no signal so I ask for their WiFi code, they don't have one! The pub has gone quiet now, just me, yellow coat dog falling backwards lady, and a couple who sound depressingly West Yorks when the wind blows north. You can appreciate how this is a rare Northumbrian coastal pub that strikes the balance perfectly in a bid to cater for the drinker and the flighty tourist equally. Landlady, who I'd unfairly deemed 'a bit mousy' on arrival cos I'm a judgy prick, really comes to the fore now she has a bit more time, and enlists a man, maybe her husband, possibly a chef, could be a lover, maybe a fighter, and they get all their laminated maps and books out and help me re buses and High Newton by the Sea cos I'm totally clueless / stranded. What people! What a pub! And being so quiet, I could drink in the atmosphere, and it drank even better than a pint of Pride in Esher. They even do their own beer , but the brewery was having a wintertime wash n brush up on my visit. "You'll have to come back for that!" she says. I hope that was a joke. Besides, nothing could top this Ouseburn Porter, majestic. Magic, and yes I did locate High Newton by the Sea and the nearest bus stop no trouble. Pub of the week, and it ain't even close.
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