The Real Harry Hotspur: He Is One Of Our Own

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The last occasion we spent any time in north Northumberland was a dozen years ago. It is a truly magical place - history, wide sweeping beaches of golden sand and a warm welcome. The marketing slogan for the local area used by the local tourist board was "The Secret Kingdom', but I read with interest that they have had to acknowledge it was time for a change. "The Secret" was out. Victims of their own success and the rise of the enforced staycation, has changed the tourism landscape forever. The new slogan incidentally is "Dream, Explore, Discover". We were here to do just that and perhaps revisit old territory.

This mini break was all new to us. Holidays with a four legged friend. Vera has been part of the family for 9 months now. In that time, for a variety reasons largely related to a pandemic, we haven't been away except for family visits. Where to stay? Hotel? Bed & breakfast? Self catering? We played safe and booked a cottage for 4 nights. I say "cottage" loosely - it was actually a detached, two bedroom bungalow on the nearest thing to a housing estate in our chosen village. It would give us a bit more space and at least stop the possibility of a territorial Terrier expressing her displeasure every time someone walked past a hotel room. There was also an underlying agenda. The break would be a sort of experiment to determine whether we could consider downsizing or indeed, how far down the food chain of housing we could descend. It seems a lifetime ago that we swapped our usual routines for 10 months on the road with nothing more than the contents of a rucksack, but I convince myself the next move is the last and it needs to be right. A whole 6 months have now passed since the acceptance of our new permanent roles, as entertainment executives to a Norfolk Terrier and the answers to questions about what we do next remain elusive.

After a weekend in the North East Premier Seaside Resort en route for footballing reasons - our Vera is leaderof the Marske United Canine Crew and nothing to do with me, honest - we headed north. The A19 was calm. Commuting is now a thing of the past. It was all change at the Testo roundabout, where a massive expansion had happened in the last 2 years and a flyover built to sweep cars unhindered towards the Tyne Tunnel. The latter has acquired itself a fancy new App for paying the toll. The cashless system is reputed to avoid queuing traffic and ease congestion. The local spies suggest it has succeeded in the objectives - incorrect fines and total confusion, leading to some drivers just avoiding the Tunnel route altogether. Job sorted. Congestion eased. We did likewise anc avoided it, partially because I fancied driving over the Tyne Bridge on such a nice day. The Sage glistened in the morning light on the Gateshead side, as Newcastle bathed in sunshine on other side. The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia United Football Club towered imposingly over the city and might soon be home to serious challengers, rather than perennial strugglers. We headed out through the prosperous suburbs of Jesmond and Gosforth.

I have been listening to some podcasts of late - Mark Steel's in Town. The plot is basically a comedian rocks up in "your town" and takes the pi**. In some towns, that is quite a straightforward task and explains how we end up in our next port of call - Blyth. Mr Steel recounts the story of rats for sale outside Ladbrokes. Quality rats, mind! We encountered neither Ladbrokes nor rats. Listen to the Blyth episode and visualise yourself in town. I had been to Blyth only once before. I solved the North Korean question and came back with tales of beach chalets to rival those of the North East Premier Seaside Resort. The Other Half was sceptical, but as it was on the way it made sense to show her their splendour whilst we were passing. South Beach isn't just an impressive piece of sand - it has beach chalets with a view second to none out over the North Sea. "Down South" people pay vast sums for these quaint reminders of summers past. The world record is £330,000 near Sandbanks on the edge of Bournemouth. £330,000 would get you a very sensible house in Blyth and plenty of change. The rates remain somewhat more competitive in Blyth. A mere £40 a day gets you a balcony and a kettle thrown in. There was only one paying customer today.

The neighbours of the chalets are the old gun batteries, built to protect the port in 1916. The current guns are recent replicas, but add to the effect. This area is closer to the frontline than you would imagine. Berwick, 50 odd miles away up the coast, is still technically at war with Russia. When Queen Victoria signed the declaration of war for the hostilities in Crimea, she did so for Great Britain, Ireland, Berwick on Tweed and all other British Territories. In the peace treaty of 1857, Berwick was omitted. The little guy with the £10,000 anorak in the Kremlin very probably overlooked this technicality, when the tanks rolled over the border.

We pressed on to Bath Terrace. A fine row of neatly maintained Grade II listed terraced properties are a world away from most people's perception of Blyth. The lighthouse immediately behind is somewhat of a surprise. It isn't every street, that can boast a 62 foot tall lighthouse in the backstreet. In theory, the shore should be close by. However, this lighthouse is somewhat removed from the waters edge. The RNLI base was closed up as it was on my last visit, but I took note of the blue plaque on an adjacent wall and poked the camera lense through the fence.I The plaque paid tribute to Captain William Smith. He was a local seafarer, who made important discoveries in the southern oceans and seems to have been completely overlooked in subsequent history. In 1819, while sailing cargo on a ship he part owned - The Williams - he sailed south of Cape Horn to catch good winds. On 19 February, he spotted a new land at 62° south latitude and 60° west longitude. Smith didn't land and on his return, the authorities did not believe his discovery. Captain Smith undeterred by being snubbed, made a new voyage on 16 October and landed on the largest of the islands. He named it King George Island and the group, the South Shetland Islands. He was subsequently chartered by the Royal Navy for a 3rd trip and discovered the Antarctic Peninsula. The discoveries didn't seem to make him a household name, so he has to be content with this small tribute. There is a current advert on TV, promoting careers in the Royal Navy. "Born in Blyth, Made in the Royal Navy". Captain Smith was ahead of his time in this respect.

The quayside has had received a revamp. The new wooden staithes stretched along towards the North Docks. There are obviously no coal ships here anymore. Shipbuilding was also a force and the Royal Navy's first aircraft carrier was built here in 1914. The building facing the port was called Commissioners Quay. It described itself as a "contemporary pub with rooms" and "a destination in its own right". It looked rather posh and certainly not an obvious pub. We toyed with the idea of a coffee here - it was dog friendly - but the window seats, didn't offer much of a seaview. The quay here was dominated by a strange looking sculpture. The 50 feet high "Spirit of the Staithes" is a creation by Sunderland based artist Simon Packard. A panel nearby describes the inspiration for the 2003 project as the export of coal loaded on to ships from the now restored staithes or wharf. The other structure looming over the docks and town was a huge wind turbine. In Blyth, green energy is within reach from wherever you look.

We had some lunch in "old" Blyth opposite the former Police Station and Magistrates Court. The old Kings Head Hotel is a classic Victorian pub. The tiled bar is now transformed into a cafe, whilst the remainder of the ground floor is an art gallery. The "dog friendly" sign attracted our interest, as we walked towards the town centre. Vera sometimes restricts our choices, but not so in this venue. There was no compromise on the quality either, so if you are passing with your four legged friend pay them a visit. If it was another 30 or 40 miles further north, I would suggest that the prices would be nigh on double the going rate in Blyth. The Other Half nipped in the town centre Spoons to admire the art deco interior. The 1937 ex Wallow Cinema was designated the finest Spoons outside of the example in Forest Hill, south London - The Capitol.

We pressed on and crossed the A1 to the old mining town of Bedlington. There was an unmissable photograph opportunity for Vera at the Dr Pitt Welfare Park. Bedlington is arguably not famous for much, except for the breed of dog - the Bedlington Terrier. The local Northern League football club is the Bedlington Terriers. Vera ponders the prospects for the formation of the Norfolk Terriers Football Club. She just needs a ground! The club usually occupies the 2nd Division of the Northern League these days, stuggling on gates that can drop to less than 50. The halcyon days of 5 consecutive 1st Division titles and hammering Colchester United in the FA Cup in the 1990s are just memories. The good times nearly came back in 2010, when an American frozen food billionaire Robert E Rich discovered family roots in the local area. He pumped in money, invested in a £30,000 scoreboard and financed a tour to the US to play for the Lord Bedlington Cup. It is difficult to second guess what he was thinking with the scoreboard investment. In reality, there isn't much call for HD replays of goalmouth action in the Northern League.

Industrial south Northumberland, built on coal and sea trade, rapidly turns into the tourist hot spots further north. The next port of call was Alnmouth. It is immediately attractive arriving from the south - the village perches neatly on the higher ground overlooking the mouth of the river. The full time population of the village struggles to rise above 600, but there is a huge influx of visitors in the summer months. As well as the motorised means, Alnmouth handily sits on the East Coast mainline train route between London and Edinburgh. There aren't many villages of this size that can boast a direct service from the capital of two countries. The 310 miles from London Kings Cross can be covered in a mere 4 hours 30 minutes. The railway station itself lies just to the west of the village and is easily walkable.

The visitor numbers today bring prosperity to the village and holiday homes supplement the wealthy permanent residents. The road into the village cunningly loops the traffic off towards the beach and the main car park. The car park is reached by crossing the Links golf course, which borders the dunes. It is quiet today, but I wonder how many visitors ignore the warning signs and stray into the path of Mr Smith's splendid tee shot. We proceeded round the loop towards the far end of the main street. Free street parking out of range of the wayward golf balls was easily available in March, but I suspect August would be a different matter. We descended on to the beach. Whilst bright and sunny, a nasty breeze was whipping sand into the face at Norfolk Terrier height. Vera looked less than impressed. We retreated into the village in search of a coffee. How dog friendly is Alnmouth? It was as well we were seeking coffee, as the Hope & Anchor pub doesn't open on Mondays and Tuesdays out of season. Bistro 23 doesn't allow dogs and Scotts Deli only does takeaways post Covid. Don't be fooled by the sign outside that states "Deli, Cafe". We settled for the Whitting House, as indeed did many other dog owners. The four legged friends enjoyed a meet and greet.

Alnmouth was once an important port, but the course of the river was changed in a storm on Christmas Day 1806. The change put paid to the favourable anchorages and the export of grain came to an abrupt halt. Grain was the big export and a bizarre cargo of guano from Peru was the big import. Guano, to be used as fertilizer, obviously came with an overpowering smell and was stored in barns across the river and out of nostril reach. Grain was big business and influenced the style of architecture in the village. The narrow frontage of some buildings gives way to a huge barn like structure, that leads many metres away from the street. There are numbers of examples of these grain houses on Nothumberland Street, although I doubt many visitors give them a second thought. I nipped down off the main drag to photograph Lovaine Terrace - a colourful row of terraced houses facing out over the river and estuary. Alas, the light had gone with the passing shower of rain and the effect was not how I had hoped. I note that Number last sold for over £550,000 in 2013, so if you are interested best get saving your pennies!!

We travelled the 4 miles to Alnwick, whilst the heavens opened. I like a second hand book, so the logical choice of venue to wait for the sun to reappear was Barter Books. Alnwick is a modest market town with a population of only about 8000. However, Barter Books is a second hand bookstore of disproportionate size for the residents. Alnmouth has the railway station and the branch line in Alnwick closed. What better way to use the old building, than to house this extensive collection of second hand reading material? Dog friendly, though not alas the cafe inside, Barter Books comes complete with its own model railway. The miniature locomotive busily chugs around the bookshelves to retain the railway heritage.

The town is built around Alnwick Castle and Alnwick Garden, neither of which were open today. The Castle is home to the Dukes of Northumberland, although spent 30 years after World War 2 as a teacher training college. It was also used a film set for the first 2 Harry Potter films. Another famous Harry - Harry Hotspur, aka Sir Henry Percy the eldest son of the 1st Earl of Northumberland - is also synonymous with the Castle. It was from Harry, that a small football team in North London took their name. There would be no United, City or Albion for those boys. They adopted the title Hotspur - the act of digging ones heels into your horse, as they charged into battle. Long before Harry Kane, the boys from White Hart Lane had another Harry who was "one of their own". Harry - Northumberland version - came unstuck away at Shrewsbury. The year didn't end in a 1, so the omens were never good. I sought out the statue of Harry Hotspur, which sits in a rather insignificant position on the approach to the Castle, took a few photographs of the market place and it was time to go and find some accommodation.

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Photos

Alnmouth
Hope & Anchor

Blyth
South Beach Chalets

Alnmouth
Lovaine Terrace

Blyth
High Lighthouse

Alnwick
Harry Hotspur Statue

Alnwick
Market Place

Blyth
Bath Terrace

Alnmouth
Old Grain House

Alnwick
Barter Books in the old railway station

Blyth
South Beach Chalets

Alnwick
Market Place

Alnwick
Northumberland Hall

Comments

[Rainyb]

Thanks for sharing!