18. Whitley Bay
CC Site
Apl 25 – 27

Up the A1(M), through the Tyne Tunnel, skirting North Shields and Tynemouth then through the middle of Whitley Bay, which looks promising. I am at the top of a cliff overlooking the North Sea and a lighthouse a few yards off the beach. I counted passing ships and got to seven in an hour before a sea-fret closed in and it started to rain. The ones I saw were big slab-sided container ships and all seemed to be going north. I hope the Scots aren't stealing the family silver before they go their own way. The site is actually at Seaton Sluice, which doesn't sound very salubrious. I can remember paddling in the sea here in February, 1975. I was a bit hardier in those days. Really looking forward to this one.

St. Mary's Lighthouse, from the site

While having lunch I watched The Searchers on Film Four. What a great film. I saw it with my Mum, from whom I must have got my love of the cinema, at the Ritz in Horsham in 1956. It has come to be considered a masterpiece, and one of the greatest and most influential films ever made. The British Film Institute's Sight and Sound magazine ranked it as the seventh best movie of all time based on a 2012 international survey of film critics. And Vera Miles was heart-breakingly beautiful. She was once Miss Texas Grapefruit.

There was a great quote on “Pointless” last night. A young woman, when asked what subjects she would like to come up, said she wasn't too good on history but it didn't matter as it was only stuff that had already happened. 

The Spanish City

Saturday morning, bright and sunny but bitterly cold. Took the bus into Newcastle, about an hour's journey through the urban sprawl of north Tyneside. On the way saw a sign to Walker (an area of Tyneside); the Animals sang “Take me Back to Walker” in 1964, but I don't think they meant it because Eric Burdon certainly never went back after he discovered L.A. and drugs. 

Also saw a sign to Gosforth, one of the posher bits of Newcastle. They had a very good rugby union team in the 1970's and 1980's. One of their iconic players was Colin White, who played at prop and was capped four times for England. Although small and light compared to the monsters of to-day – he was probably the size of the average scrum-half now – he was incredibly tough. This was the amateur era, of course, and he was a tree surgeon. One day he cut two of his fingers off with a chainsaw. He set out to drive to Casualty, realised he had forgotten to bring the fingers and went back and collected them. After recovering he continued playing at the highest level. I was sad to see that he had died in 2011. 

Passed the Spanish City in Whitley Bay, the permanent funfair immortalised by Dire Straits in “Tunnel of Love”. It closed in 2005 but there are plans to refurbish and re-open it. Also passed the enormous Formica factory in North Shields (why is it called “Formica”, is it made from ants?). Dire Straits didn't sing about it and neither did the Animals.

 

Grey's Monument

There was an amazing number of open spaces, playing fields and sports centres on the way. Newcastle United have a very good scout now (amazingly Alan Carr's father) but I can't help thinking he should spend more time locally. There was a time when virtually every club in the Football League had at least two geordies in their team while Newcastle have always missed loads of local talent. How come Alan Shearer was on Southampton's books as a youth team player? The Burnley team which won the old First Division (i.e. The League Championship) in 1959-60 was composed of eight geordies. 

Coming into the city from the north past the Civic Centre and into Haymarket it is rather elegant, with many flowering trees and some fine houses. Walked down Northumberland Street to Grey's Monument and down Grey Street to High Bridge (a street, not a bridge). CAMRA used to own a pub here, the Duke of Wellington. I popped in to get a souvenir proggy mat (the local name for the cloth mats they put on the bar to soak up spills) and to admire the array of handpumps. Now a pretty ordinary pub, empty apart from me and a strange, very over-dressed old barmaid. Went past the Beehive, a classic old green-tiled boozer on the corner of High Bridge and Bigg Market. Looking through the steamy windows I saw it was packed, heaving at 11:55 in the morning. Incredible.

 

Central Arcade

Through the Central Arcade, three floors of music!  Excellent!

Up Grainger Street and into Grainger Market, the most amazing Victorian cast-iron closed market. It was just wonderful and I wandered around with a silly grin on my face. It had just such a brilliant atmosphere and I could see that everyone else was loving it too. It first opened in 1835 and contains over 100 businesses, including seven butchers, six cafes, five greengrocers, four fishmongers, three bookshops, two petshops and a brilliant model shop with, by the looks of it, every Star Wars figure ever issued. Everyone should go and see Grainger Market. It's worth going to Newcastle just to see it. Believe me, it's superb.

Tearing myself away I spotted a bit of excitement around Grey's Monument, which is Newcastle's equivalent of Speaker's Corner. Three young chaps were extolling the wonders of Islam, three weedy-looking lads from the Revolutionary Workers' Party were explaining that the UK's immigation policy is racist and about thirty English Defence League “gentlemen”, surrounded by about fifty police, were roaring at all of them. Loads of people were standing around watching. One copper gave me a very hard look, which I can only think was because my beard has got a bit out of hand and I look a bit fundamentalist. I smiled and gave him a wink and he didn't arrest me. You can do things like that when you're old. I wondered what Earl Grey, architect of the Great Reform Act of 1832, made of it all as he looked down from his column 130 feet above. Would he think it was all worthwhile? He looks as if he is dying for a cup of tea. 

The wonderful Grainger Market

Good job Saturday was so great because Sunday was a washout. Cold rain and a bitter wind all day. Went back to bed and read. Feel rather guilty about not giving Whitley Bay a fair chance to enchant me. I think I have been rather feeble, skulking in the warm. I will go away and beat myself up now.