Feb 26 2019
Newcastle – Go With The Flow

It’s been a long time since I last visited Newcastle. Vague recollections of training courses at the TUC spring to mind, but that’s at least 10 years ago. And times have changed.
Certainly, Newcastle has changed.
The genesis of this weekend was in the immediate aftermath of a weekend last year in York. The four who went wondered out loud “where next?”
Accommodation was booked a day later. 6 months in advance. In August. And once the four of us booked, others jumped in. This was a team outing.
Newcastle has that kind of pull.
Viewing from afar, the beer scene in Newcastle looked great. Almasty, Anarchy, Box Social, Northern Alchemy, Wylam to name just a few. Drooling was the order of the day. Even 6 months in advance.
Plans were made. Maps created.
I like a good plan.
I also like to swim against the tide. It is almost instinctive to set myself against prevailing orthodoxy and shun the popular, the lauded and head elsewhere. But swimming against that tide can be tiring.
So. Trusting the experts (ie : local drinkers and local social media contacts), I let myself – generally speaking – go with the flow.
Another great (collective) decision, was to avoid the herding of cats. This was a group of 10 travelling up, each with their own priorities. So each have their own story, their own memories.
These are mine. And I won’t be forgetting them in a hurry……
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Walking from the station to our Quayside base, I’d forgotten one of the general characteristics of river cities. Slopes.
Fortunately, pit stop #1 was a mere 50 yards (uphill) from the hotel.
The Bridge Tavern (Akenside Hill)
Handy. And welcome.
If this was a taste of things to come, we were in for a good weekend.
Exposed brick, wood, open plan yet nicely subdivided. This works.
A Brewpub. Associated to Wylam in that respect. It was a good start to see mostly local breweries on the taps – me being a firm “When in Rome” kinda fella – and our initial group split between different locals.
The Cascade by Wylam was delicious. As was the Northern Alchemy sour. Winning.
The pub self identifies as a gastro pub. If that kind of thing deters you ordinarily, don’t let it. This is a belting spot, located directly between the Newcastle side stanchions of the Tyne Bridge.
I just wish I’d tried the food (as others also wished – the next morning!)
That thing about slopes. It means you don’t want to walk too far.
Good job that an icon was close by.
Crown Posada (Side)
And the only pub I’d previously visited. To me, I wouldn’t care if the beer was rubbish. Because architecturally, this place is simply stunning.
Fortunately the Bad Co Milk Stout was lovely rich, roasty and creamy.
But this is about the pub.
To not go here would have been tantamount to criminality.
Narrow, single roomed with seating areas either end of a magnificent very long bar that’s almost half the length of the pub.
I should have taken more pics.
Busy, intimate with friendly and witty bar staff. We’d have stayed longer – and we DID return on Saturday with a different group – but we had friends to meet elsewhere.
?
The Box Social (Forth Street)
From the old to the new. And just my kind of spot.
A Micro Pub. And true to the designation, it is indeed wee. But fits quite a lot into that small space with a mezzanine above the bar almost doubling the floor space.
Being effectively the taproom for the eponymous brewery, the accent on their own beers was welcome, but there was plenty of variety from elsewhere with 10 keg and 4 cask lines.
“When in Rome….” dictated a Box Social beer and the “New Trumpet Joe?” Micro IPA was a spot hitter. Refreshing and tasty.
With plenty to go at, I’d have loved to spend more time here, but the lovely Mr Jones from that there Brighton had tipped me off about another special little space.
So myself, TLO and Chris formed the first “splinter group” of the trip.
A bit too far to walk. (My Uber app took some stick this weekend….) But I wouldn’t have missed this place for all the beer in Newcastle….
Coppers of Gosforth (Brunton Park, Gosforth)
From the outside (and even from the inside!) this looks like a supermarket. That’s because it is precisely that. A supermarket.
But….. What’s that? There. Down that corridor?
It felt like a beery version of Hansel & Gretel….. Ah…. More liquid breadcrumbs….
Trust me, happiness this way lies….
6 or 7 taps. Local and otherwise. Impressed. But something was missing.
Mike mentioned a fridge door leading to beer Narnia. But….
Ah… What’s that?
And there we were. Hop Secret. The “not so secret” outside bar at the rear of the shop. With a little closed off warm room for the less hardy.
This place is ace.

Ever had that moment when something just GRABS you? You can’t explain it, it just does? Well. That. That’s how Coppers got me.
We met Charlie here. The other reason we jumped that Uber. We chatted beer and other stuff, he introduced me to that LOVELY Scotch Egg / cheese platter. He’s a lovely fella (even TLO said so – she’s hard to please!) and it was so nice to meet up.
Hopefully he’ll pop South at the end of October….
I had my first beer from local brewery Two by Two (it was lovely) and I caught a #ISBF5 Beer that I’d missed! Northern Alchemy Cola Sour. Oh my that was good!
Even on a chilly Newcastle evening, I could have stayed all night. But… We had friends to go back and see. So, saying farewell to Charlie (and grabbing a fistful of Northern Alchemy bottles) it was Uber time – having checked where the Manc hordes had relocated…
The Mean Eyed Cat (St Thomas St)
“6 cask, 8 keg, a load of bottles and the furniture doesn’t match….”
You simply HAVE to adore a place that doesn’t take itself too seriously!

A big square room. With rackety furniture. And a whole shit load of charm. It was here that I really started to fall for this city.
Beer was ace, people were chatty. It’s a proper nice place (enjoyed it so much that we came back on the Saturday (well, some of us did)
Wylam “Hickey The Rake”, Out There “Mojito Sour” and (the coupe de grace) Kernel “Export Stout”.
I retired hurt. But what a way to go.
Well, we went to The Town Mouse. But I’ll save that for the next day. A tasty North Riding“Mini Citra”.
Hold that North Riding thought……
Some of us made it for breakfast in the morning. Some stayed out until two.
It was a marathon, not a sprint.

This was the morning of the great divide, with several (most of the group) heading towards Exhibition Park. And Wylam Brewery. Criticise ME all you like, but I had friends to meet.
And a surprise.
At…
The Free Trade Inn (St Lawrence Road, Ouseburn)
A gentle 15 minute stroll, as lazy as the gently flowing Tyne was just reviving enough to make a beer seem attractive at 11.30am.
In what is arguably Newcastle’s most vaunted pub.

The location is killer. And an excellent beer list to go at too. The Almasty “Echelon” was the “house beer” and did a right number on me. It lifted me up and renamed me Lazarus.
Now I’m not prone to much in the way of fanboydom, but I did get a surprise when Karen & Stuart walked in with Malcolm and Niamh. Stuart sporting his usual levels of sartorial bombast….

This was where the day was just allowed to flow its own way. Chatting. Fun. Being with friends.
A few beers were had here and I tried to “place” The Free Trade and struggled. It reminded me of pubs from my youth. Except this looked untouched. Preserved. Not messed about. And that’s truly a good thing.
Just to sit, looking through that enormous window, enjoying exceptional beer. It’s a pleasure worth paying for.
I jealously eyed up Malcolm’s samosa….
Then – on Stu’s suggestion – we walked back up the Tyne and crossed over The Millennium Bridge. And sat under The Tyne Bridge
Never have shipping containers been so imaginatively recycled!
Quite a sight.
Just. Yeah. I don’t know how. But it’s bloody good.
Tried 2 of the beers made in the venue (overseen by Wylam apparently) – well, like I said, “when in Rome….”
The Heedhunter Pale may well have been my favourite beer of the weekend. But then, I’m a Centennial fiend. And the aroma was like snorting lemon sherbet. Just…..
It was exceptional. The Brown Ale “Broon” was a bit tasty too.
Inside, the place was open, modern and light and I just forgot the construction. A real surprise. I’m a bit of a traditionalist with pubs and bars. But I just “got” this. It was certainly a beautiful day to sit on the bank of the North’s greatest river, looking up at the Tyne Bridge, eat great pizza (Courtesy of Scream for Pizza) and just relax.
Back over the river though.
And a revisit to a few places from the previous night – cue pics….

The Town Mouse (St Mary’s Place)
I DO like a subterranean micro pub. Apparently.
We came in on the Friday evening. And even after several beers, could still taste how exceptionally good the North Riding Mini Citra was. That’s good cellar work.
Stuart let slip (once we’d crossed the bridge), that Mocha Porter was on here. And the catnip called…
The pub was busy. It was their Second Birthday weekend. It’s cosy, warm and open with a kind of two – roomed feel.
Intimate. My kinda place.
I’ll be back.
Retreating via Lady Greys and The Bridge Tavern again (excellence never gets boring), bed called.
The fog descended the next morning like visual poetry.
I’ve always been a “Lady Eleanor” man myself though….
Gluttons for punishment, we “strolled” through the hordes crowding the Quayside market.
Slowly. Bodies pummelled by local beer, it felt like Napoleon’s Retreat From Moscow.
I know. I know. But….
Back to The Free Trade. Northern Alchemy “Small IPA“. Delicious.
All good things come to an end however….
Just two things left to do.
That i “Sublime Chaos” lived up to the first two syllables! (TLO loved the Smash…)
And, back “home”
The idea to go to The Marble Arch for Sunday lunch really WAS my daughter’s.
Honest. (And I didn’t have a delicious Petite or Lagonda. 🤞)
So. Newcastle. How do you sum it up?
I wish it was nearer for a start! There’ll be more beers from round here at #ISBF6 for sure.
It’s just a beautiful city. A city of bridges. A city with some simply ace people (had a great yak in The Mean Eyed Cat on the Saturday night!)
It’s a great beer city. With lots of great places to drink that beer. I get the feeling that I merely scratched the surface.
Like I said, the others will have their own stories to tell. But mine tells me one thing for certain.
We’ll be back.
Mar 2 2019
Dose Your Dreams
“I haven’t been myself of late. I haven’t slept for several days.
But coming home I feel like I designed these buildings I walk by…” “Station Approach” – Elbow
Whilst this blog space is predominantly focused on beer – and, increasingly, the business of beer – it also serves as my vent space. A place where I can write things I couldn’t say in person. Not because there’s any lack of will, but because I can’t elucidate (at any given time) what’s in my head. The inability to say the right words. At the right time.
Recently is one of those times.
This is decidedly NOT a beer post.
____________________
The date 22/12/2018 will live long in my memory. That memory which is notoriously poor with the important stuff, like putting names to familiar faces.
You see, that date was the last time that I had a proper (non-assisted) sleep. Which, for me, means 6 hours.
That’s almost ten weeks. And I need to sleep.
I have absolutely no idea what had caused this, no single event stands out. No stress at work, no particular stress at home. Nothing.
2 or 3 friends pointed out that this might be related to ISBF. But I pushed that to one side.
Initially, I thought I’d “tough it out”, that things would be alright. That this elusive ship of dreams would right itself. But…
Initially, this was brutal. Xmas day being a particular “highlight”. We went to friends for Xmas Dinner, I was “withdrawn” because I was exhausted after almost 72 near “sleep free” hours. I shouldn’t have gone, but this is my nearest and dearest. My second (closer) family.
I attempted to self-medicate. With strong beer. So out came the 9,10,12% big beasts. I gulped greedily whilst keeping myself away from the throng as – after three days without sleep – my irritability was on red alert.
After finishing enough strong beer to stun a rhino, I set off to bed. 2 hours later I felt murderous (and that exaggeration is only slight). I wanted to confront the partying hordes, screaming and shouting. But I didn’t. It wasn’t their fault. They were entitled to party.
It was the first time I realised that my brain wasn’t healthy.
I got dressed, and – with no jacket or blanket – left the house and climbed into the car, reclined the seat and closed my eyes. (But didn’t sleep). Better (literally) chilling down than destroying decades of relationships.
And that was only after 3 days.
Multiply that by 23 and you can see where I’m at.
Anyone who has ever experienced even the mildest insomnia gets part of it. When your mental health is the equivalent of walking a tightrope, it’s a right merciless bastard.
Speaking from personal experience, grief is like a lead weight on the heart and soul, it drags the joy out of almost everything. Even the most menial and simple of tasks take twice the effort.
Prolonged insomnia is different – to me at least. It’s like there’s a gentle vacuum inside the head, constantly humming. Dragging the simplest of thoughts, elongating them. Making them complicated.
The moments I knew this was really a problem were when I snapped at the people I care most about. Just ended up ranting incoherently (no change there then eh?) getting annoyed about the smallest of things. That slipping of control – for an alleged control freak – is hateful. And there are times when I’ve really not liked myself.
There are stupid things. Like driving to Scarbados on New Years Eve with Morpheus pulling my eyelids down.
And – finally – that night, having got to bed – and sleep – at 2am. And forgetting to turn off my alarm for work. At 5am.
I had to smile at the perversity of it.
4 doctors consultations. No answer.
4 days of medicated sleep. Followed by 48 hours without a single of the due 80 winks.
Like I said. It’s a merciless bastard.
2 psychological consultations. No answer to the problem.
The counsellors wanted to open the box. They were told to f**k right off (if slightly more politely). I’m not going there.
Insomnia isn’t regarded as a mental health priority / problem apparently.
Try telling that black mutt that chewed me up on Friday morning. Thank CHRIST I’ve come off Social Media. At least for a bit.
Fortunately, Friday morning might be a blip. I certainly hope so.
I’ve been counselled that I need to keep to routine. That I need to not nap. That I need to change lots of sleep habits. That I need to abstain from alcohol.
I’ve joined a gym. I’m doing everything possible. But it’s not quite working.
I realise that I’m waffling. Again, no change there.
I just wish to apologise to people. I’ve not been quite myself.
Back soon.
Jx
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