Karl and Steve didn’t win the battle of the bands thing last night. They were truly great, acknowledged as different from the norm, but stupidly good.
After the competition, I remained for some time, with free beer. That probably wasn’t my best decision, since work was painful this morning.
A few weeks ago, my mate Peter asked if I’d go to the Ship (tonight) because Matt would be DJ-ing. At the time, I declined because we’d be in Peterborough.
He hinted again this morning, but we couldn’t make it.
We’d cancelled Peterborough, but had kept the Ship in mind. Well, you never know.
So, on leaving North Shields, I asked if Peter would be in Ouseburn. There was no response, so, being the gentleman that I am, I headed to the Ship. A Metro and a cab.
And was he here? Of course not.
Matt, however, is doing a very good job. He’s playing Tainted Love right now, but played Augustines’ Cruel City a few minutes ago.
Off to town now for food.
I love proper English, like. Mr Smith’s Stout.
We’re in the Prince of Wales, in North Shields. I have Sam Smith’s stout and my second in command has strawberry beer.
I came to North Shields this morning in search of beaded skirting board. And I was very pleased to find a close match to the 1800s skirting in the house.
The timber yard was very busy, a Saturday morning thing I guess. A man helped me find the right skirting; they have a huge range. He asked me how much I needed and i said around 2.5 metres (knowing the limits of public transport).
He went off to find a piece and returned a few minutes later. Apparently, it only comes in four metre lengths, which is actually great, but he’d cut off a metre and a half to match the size I wanted. He had to sell me the whole length, but it’s good to have spare. He said he’d left it outside for me, so I paid then went to collect the wood.
The wood is currently with beer kegs out back at the Magnesia Bank. I realised that, even reduced in length, I’d not be able to transport it on the Metro. And, so, I needed to find somewhere to wait for a lift home. The Maggie Bank was an obvious choice.
It’s six years since I’ve been here; I came for a pint with Ellen before a pretty cool wedding. Well, the pub’s just round the corner to the register office.
It’s not a bad place to wait with a piece of skirting board.
I came to Ouseburn this morning, led by a web page, to attempt to find a match for some old skirting board. Unfortunately, the wood product vendor no longer copies old mouldings. It seems that the internet cannot always be trusted.
It hasn’t been a wasted trip though. I’m now sitting round the corner, in the Free Trade Inn, in front of a fire, with a delicious pint of Box Social Porter. It tastes very chocolatey.
They seem to have standard torus skirting here, so shouldn’t have any problem if they ever decide to remove a doorway.
An early Kings of Leon album is playing and Craig David is asleep on a barrel. I’m quite content.
It’s now raining, so I shall stay for another pint of Porter.
Lisinopril gave me an irritating cough. It also slightly lowered my blood pressure.
And, so, I’m fresh from an appointment with a GP, with a prescription for an alternative drug.
The GP agreed that my condition appears to be genetic, particularly in view of my vegan, negligible salt and sugar diet. I did confess a fondness for alcohol, but he advised that it’s fine in moderation.
So I’m now drinking beer at a moderate pace in my local.
My second in command are now having our first beer of the day.
After a lovely breakfast in Egg cafe.
After a good night’s sleep in the Crowne Plaza (staff discount).
After an amazing gig last night at the Academy.
That picture was actually taken over a decade ago, by my youngest child, at the same venue. It’s possibly the best ever Eels related photo.
Anyway, last night was reputedly the final Augustines performance. And it was one hell of a performance.
I took no pictures though, it felt right not to. So you’ll have to take my word that this was a loud, emotional evening. The auudience’s we are Augustines chant is still in my head.
The event was streamed live on the internet, hopefully there’ll be recordings. While I do understand why this is the end of their road, I can only hope that’s not the case.
​Suzy: This Peroni tastes horrible
Me: That’s my Punk IPA
Ok, so maybe we’re now in the 13th Note rather than on a train. The second pint of stout in Mono persuaded me that I needed a falafel burger. And a pint of West’s St Mungo.
MacSorley’s next I think. Then perhaps a train.
Having a pint of Sam Smith’s stout in Mono. The bar where my second in command went from smiles to tears in a few seconds, just a month ago. When she read that Augustines were to split up after this tour.
We’re heading to the station after this beer, going to have a few hours in Edinburgh before the train home.
Reflecting on last night, Glasgow must surely be the city of brotherly love. We met some lovely people in a lovely old church.