All The Lads & Lasses There, All With Smiling Faces

---

My preferred option for travel when in the North East was not available. The managerial wisdom in railway circles these days is trying very hard to convince the world that a local train without a guard is good idea. The rail unions obviously think differently. Driver only trains indeed. Result. Stalemate. Strikes! I can’t remember how many there have been or how long the dispute has been running, but this was the first one to seriously inconvenience my plans. I wasn’t too disgruntled, because I am in broad agreement with the union point of view. I say this as a passenger on a train where the driver overshot the platform by 10 metres, before the guard reminded him it was a bit of a necessity if passengers were to alight without turning into abseiling experts. The lack of a train meant that I had to resort to checking bus options and to my delight I found the Explorer North East ticket. I normally stick with Arrivabus, but this had my name on it. £10.50 all day, anywhere between Scarborough and the Scottish border, any bus (give or take a few obscurities) and including the Tyne and Wear Metro. If the mood took you, you could even take to the water on the Shields ferry. It opened up a whole new world of football fixtures in Northern League land.



I walked down the road and caught my first bus of the day. The plan was to a bit of light reading on the journey north. An as yet unpublished novel from Montreal literary circles had been received in my inbox, so I downloaded it on to the tablet in preparation for the trip. The publishing houses of Canada (or anywhere else) have yet to appreciate the content, so I am honoured to have secured a read for the price of a Christmas pint. Alas, the tablet seems to have developed a malfunction – possible terminal – and I didn’t really fancy carrying the laptop round all day. I was not having a good week with electronics. My turntable has also developed a fault. “They don’t make stuff to last these days”, I moaned. I shouldn’t really complain though – it has done 38 years service. Unfortunately parts for the said Thorens deck are likely to prove more elusive that the teeth of hens, so it might have played the last piece of vinyl. I am not sure what excuse the Koreans have for my tablet malfunction, but it isn’t 38 years of overuse. I headed through the North East Premier seaside resort and on to Redcar. The Mighty Redcar, as it is described in the new BBC fly on the wall documentary – “think of it as a real life soap opera”, suggests the TV trailer. The real life characters were forming an orderly queue outside the barbers in a bid to look sharp for the weekend. There would be other tucking into the first pint of the day across the road. It was 8 am after all!! There were no further stops and I changed on to the X9 express bus to Newcastle. I texted the Other Half to express my amazement at the tables on the upper deck with free wi-fi and electric charging points. The double decker sped up the A19. After my frustrations with the novel downloaded on to the defunct tablet, I opened my printed material option – the attempt to retrace the steps of the Jarrow March by Stuart Maconie. The words helped obliterate the rather sordid tales of the 2 sixteen year old girls sitting opposite and the goings on amongst the youth of Billingham. It was never like that in our day. Discretion allows me to add no more detail. The book was an appropriate choice, as I headed north. As Maconie mused, there is the real North that we consider “home” and his North is some 100 miles closer to London. We grew up thinking the North / South divide started at the roundabout at Wetherby on the old A1. I still make this observation at work to much amusement. Maconie set off on his personal march and I would be one of my own soon, pounding the pavements and making my observations on the Newcastle of the day. He arrived by train. I by bus. He went into Fenwicks to buy a flat cap, as some sort of solidarity gesture. I didn’t. The idea of looking like a Peaky Blinder did not appeal. I hadn’t visited Newcastle for years, apart from visiting my Dad when he was in Freeman Hospital post transplant one Christmas Day.



There is an air of expectation that you don’t get with every city as you approach Newcastle from the south. I would say that it has something to do with bridges, but I never got the same thought driving towards Hull. The thought that arrives in my head on that subject is Road To Nowhere by Talking Heads. The iconic bridge marks the entrance. The land falls away from the Gateshead side, as the eye is drawn to the iconic bridge. I often find it amusing that the most prominent landmark of Newcastle is a gift from Middlesbrough. The forerunner of the Sydney Harbour Bridge was erected by the Dorman Long company between 1925 and 1928 and officially opened by King George V in October of that year. The original green paint has been resurrected in the last few years, so anybody expecting a reincarnation of the famous label on the brown ale bottle is in for a sad disappointment. We cross the Tyne. There is no fog today. A bright blue sky with fluffy white clouds hovers over the city.



The first building is a tall 1960s office block. The former Swan House is an old BT headquarters and typical of the concrete monstrosities that were plonked into many city centre without thought for the old buildings. This is a prime example, wedged in the middle of what they call the central motorway and a brutal looking car park, Manors. The block now runs by the trendy title of 55 Degrees North. Newcastle sits on this latitude, but doesn’t share the same harsh climate as others who inhabit this mythical line. I found an interesting article on the same subject in the local Chronicle – Hudson Bay, Londonderry and the most fascinating, Novosibirisk, Siberia. I read with interest that a place I had never heard of is the 3^rd largest city in Russia. The so called Chicago of Russia even has a Metro, so it has more in common with Newcastle than just the latitude. I would return later, as part of my wanderings.



I alighted the bus at the Eldon Square Bus Station. We think today of Eldon Square as a shopping centre. It was built in 1977 and was for many the icon for retail in the North East, before the move to “out of town” caught on and the Metro Centre was built. The actual Eldon Square was one of the centrepieces of Georgian Newcastle, built largely in the 1820s and partly bull dozed to make way for the current shopping emporium. I use a quote from Christopher Booker listed on the Wikipedia page on the shopping centre, which describes the demolition as "the greatest single example of architectural vandalism in Britain since the war." The man responsible for the remodelling of much of central Newcastle was T Dan Smith – leader of the City Council. He had a vision of progress that involved demolishing much of Georgian Newcastle and was later sent down for fraud. The original architect in the mix for Eldon Square – the shopping centre – was Arne Jacobsen, but that all fell apart with the tales of scandal and corruption. I am a big fan of Danish modernism. Jacobsen never got to make his mark on the cityscape, but T Dan Smith certainly did! The Bus Station was a later addition in 2007 and seemed surprisingly small for a city of this size. I crossed the road and walked up the hill to what could loosely be described as the prominent “cathedral” in the city.



St James’ Park is enormous. The home of Newcastle United. The Toon Army. Whilst many in modern day football have reconstructed away from their roots, Newcastle have stayed put and gone upwards. Three of the four stands rise towards the sky. The fourth stand – the first redevelopment – is distinctly low rise and constrained by the immaculate Georgian Leazes Terrace. The Gallowgate End closest to the city centre used to be a mammoth open terrace. The modern face of football greets you as you approach. The megastore and Nine: Sports Bar And Lounge. Newcastle have always loved a Number 9. A statue of club legend Jackie Milburn – Wor Jackie - kicks a football at one end, whilst Sir Bobby Robson stands on his football nearer the ticket office at the other end. Joe Harvey makes do with a plaque on the wall. Kevin Keegan and Alan Shearer are still waiting. Every home game is a 52,000 sell out and the current generation will have no concept of the struggles of the early 1980s, when crowds of less than 15,000 were not unusual. They might moan about the lack of transfer kitty under the Sports Direct supremo, but it is all relative. A mere 11,639 watched the final home game of the 1980 / 1981 Division 2 season against Orient that year. It all changed with the first coming of “King” Kev. The home of Newcastle Brown Ale was based next door, but is long gone. I walk back round behind the stand to the romantically named Strawberry Place. It is difficult to imagine nuns growing strawberries here today. I walk past the Strawberry pub with the iconic sign of a strawberry on a black and white shirt drifting in the breeze. It used to be a forbidding sort of hostelry which I have walked past on a matchday, populated by black and white clad protectors of the local cause. The outdoor first floor sundeck suggested a few things have changed. Leazes Terrace is in stark contrast to the surroundings. The Grade 1 listed properties were built in the 1830s. They looked pristine in the morning sun.



I wandered back down towards the Haymarket. Newcastle University nestled behind the busy thoroughfare. It has been around since 1834, originally as a medical college. I was impressed by the old main college buildings, but was surprised to find that it had only become independent of nearby Durham University in 1963. I had no time to venture inside to look at the art in the Hatton Gallery, but I was drawn to some huge statues of heads in the courtyard. All was quiet. In another month or so, the place would be teeming with life as freshers arrived to make the leap into life beyond school. The Hancock Museum is just along the road and is otherwise known as Great North Museum. A statue of William Armstrong stands at the foot of the entrance stairs. He swapped careers from law to engineering and got heavily involved in armament manufacture. Armstrong found royal favour, having developed a new field gun to assist the British troops in the Crimean War.





In contrast to the old at the University, the Civic Centre is back to the 1960s concrete. The new Civic Centre replaced the old Victorian Town Hall, which was later demolished. The building was opened by King Olav V of Norway. I know Norwegians liked to come shopping on the cheap in Newcastle, but never knew that brought the royals with them. A huge statue called River God Tyne hangs precariously from the side of the building, whilst another of Swans In Flight graces the central courtyard. The Spoons across the road is named after the statue. The “Five Swans” are to signify Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway and Iceland. I paused to take a photograph of the plaque commemorating President Carter’s in May 1977. He apparently gave a speech that went up in every locals estimation when he added “Howay the Lads” into the narrative. The local Geordie accent combined with a dialect of phrases was once frowned upon, but is now almost a passport to success on TV. You just need take a look at the Kings of Saturday Night TV, Ant and Dec. I was interrupted by a frantic group looking for the registry office. I took 2 minutes out from being a visitor and went native. “Just over yonder pet. Follow the other group with the carnations”. The Civic Centre is pretty recognizable. It is fairly tall and must the only building in this part of the world topped with seahorses! I retreated across by St Lawrence Church, passing the War Memorial, towards the Spoons. I sat outside on the terrace with my flat white – “help yourself to free refills, pet” – as others got down to the serious business of power drinking.



I nipped in the bank on Northumberland Street, where the removal of the counter service in favour of machines seemed not to have gone down well with the locals. I declined the offer of assistance, having become of a veteran of automation. I noted Shoreditch had come to Tyneside on the corner. A vacant lot of land had been transformed into a trendy shopping and entertainment zone thanks to a collection of containers, each containing a start up fashion brand or small business around a courtyard bar area. The Stack seemed to be doing well. I nipped over past the Laing gallery – free entry – towards where John Dobson lived. Along with Richard Grainger, Dobson was the main architect in the creation of the city centre of Newcastle before the 1960s planners changed the landscape. The Central Railway Station and Grey Street were among some of their finest works. The Oxford House was his own personal residence, but now seems crowded out by other nearby developments. Grainger lived in a less impressive home near the railway station. On the corner of Pilgrim Street opposite The Stack, a gold leaf statue of a woman balances on the clock outside Northern Goldsmiths. I used to use this as a landmark when I first came to Newcastle as a lad in pursuit of football, along with another iconic statue around along the street. The Grey Monument stands at the crossroads. Football was on my mind now. I was running out of time. The Monument Metro Station was beneath my feet.



The Tyne and Wear Metro is older than I imagined. I have never ridden on it before and I am surprised to find that the first lines opened in 1980. It stretches west to the Airport now, east to Whitley Bay and extends to South Shields and even Sunderland on the south side of the river. My Explorer bus ticket came with no bar code, but a helpful Nexus ticket guy opened the barriers. I set off towards Walkergate, the nearest point to Newcastle Benfield FC. The journey planner said it would take 7 minutes. It did. I passed the iconic Byker Wall, which is not an extension of Hadrians but a more modern contribution to residential living. An unbroken line of 620 flats built between 1969 and 1982 to replace the former terraces forms part of the North Tyneside landscape. I alighted at Walkergate Metro station. In the North East – the hotbed of football – you can usually follow the rest of the crowd towards a football match. The only person who got off the Metro had been shopping and clearly wasn’t going to find an FA Cup tie. I found my target in a 10 minute walk behind the local Academy. West Auckland were the visitors. They had won the “World Cup” twice in their existence, so they have pedigree. I recorded my visit to West Auckland in my 2014 blog, We Went To Europe, We Won The Cup Twice. The Benfield club had a tidy set up with 2 neat seated stands on either side of the pitch. A new addition was the AOFT – Academy of Fitness Training – behind one goal, which housed their gym area. The 2 teams had played each other in midweek in the Northern League, so there was a fair amount of niggle that the referee seemed unable to stamp out early doors. West had the better of the early exchanges, but were unable to capitalise. A scrappy game was settled by a great strike into the top corner from Benfield. West could be forgiven, having claimed bigger prizes in their history. I scampered to get the Metro back into the city centre to catch my bus back to Teesside. I would return much faster than I would have anticipated!

Appendix 1

F A Cup Preliminary Round

Newcastle Benfield FC 1 West Auckland AFC 0

Date: Saturday 25^th August 2018 @1500 Hours

Venue: Sam Smiths Sports Ground, Benfield Road, Newcastle. NE6 4NU

Attendance : 191

Scorers : 1-0 Dale Pearson (Newcastle Benfield FC) 61 MIns

---

Photos

Newcastle
55 degrees North

Newcastle
John Dobson's House

River God Tyne
Newcastle Civic Centre

Newcastle
Leazes Terrace

Newcastle United
Gallowgate End

Newcastle
The Strawberry Pub Sign

Newcastle
William Armstrong Statue

Newcastle United
Toon Army

Newcastle United
Sir Bobby Robson Statue

Comments

[Rainyb]

Thanks for the photo tour!!