Category Archives: Pubs

Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk

Thunderbird is very slowly retrieving email from my BT account; I’m now up to 2011. It’s a pain, but progress is being made. In only 27 days I won’t exist in BT’s world. Which is probably not a bad thing.

Today, an average kind of Tuesday, has been my Friday. I have the rest of the week off; originally, to see Augustines tomorrow (technically tonight) night, but we decided to make a week of it.

We aim to meet people in Big Hands around 18:45, but our day will most likely begin in the Temple Bar several hours earlier. And then there’s the Castle; we need to fit that in at some point.

Augustines. Not Rufus Wainwright. So there shall be no cigarettes or chocolate produce. Well, my second in command has nicotine pills so that just leaves the chocolate. And, since, I’m now a vegan of 18 months, the chocolate shall be of the non-milk variety. Preferably chocolate stout.

Broken stick

Yesterday afternoon, in view of the unusually nice weather, my second in command and I spent some time in Ouseburn; the Ship, the Cluny, then the Tyne Bar. We skipped the Free Trade Inn, since it was really busy and didn’t have any obviously fish-free beer.

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Followed by the Bridge Tavern, then, on returning home, the Traveller’s Rest. And then it was time to set up our new ‘computer’, a Hannspree PC on a stick. It’s small, around the size of the Android devices that’ve been around for a while now. It has 2gb memory and 32gb storage, although there’s a micro SD slot too. It manages to fit in a full size USB port and has both WiFi and Bluetooth. The quad core processor seems fast enough too.
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The device comes with Windows, unfortunately. There’s a Linux version (from Intel), but the spec’s not great. Getting it up and running was painless, even after a pint or two of beer.

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I bought the Windows version after reading about the potential to replace the OS with Ubuntu. Which I set about doing today. Sadly, I also managed to trash the device while installing Linux.

The Queen’s Head

The Queen’s Head, just down the road, has never been my most favourite pub. It clearly had a good life in the 80s, judging by the decor, but has since been sadly neglected.

Queens Head, 2010

But, old pubs (I must confess that the above is a five year-old picture from the internet) should have a future; they should have a role in the community. And maybe make a profit too. The Queen’s Head hasn’t been doing very well of late, customers were few in number over the past year or so, then the bar closed a little while back.

Just a year or two ago, the place was really busy, so I don’t quite understand what went wrong. The recession?  But the beer was cheap. Bad (and changes of) management, I think. The Traveller’s Rest is at risk too, I suspect.

You know when a pub is nearing the end when there’s a karaoke most nights. I’m not exactly sure when the Queens actually closed, but it was pretty recent.

The sad thing is that, prior to it’s 20th Century modernisation, the pub was pretty lovely. The top floor is clearly a modern addition, but I’m unclear as to when this was added.

Queens Head, 1904

I have to admit that I’ve been hoping for years that someone would spend a little money and restore the building to its former glory. But that’s not going to happen.

I guess it’s irrelevant now though; the place is closed and there’s an application to convert it to flats.

The Old Cannon, just a bit further down the road, and with a lot more history (just look it up), closed some time before the Queens. It, however,  (and, fortunately) has no rear access for parking, so I’m hoping it may survive.

Breaking free

Yesterday, after work, I visited the City Tavern, with a colleague from work. He drank Bruges, while I had Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. Pleasant conversation was had, followed by a quite random text message conversation. While in the bar, we noticed that an employee, possibly the manager, resembled Freddie Mercury on a bad hoovering day. After we’d parted company, texts were exchanged, mostly related to Queen song titles. While this was enjoyable, I didn’t do very well and had to concede defeat.

Stumpy II

Well, as expected, my second in command is now without her special broken foot shoe  And one crutch. She has now returned to matching shoes, although her Ugg boots do appear now to be different in colour/shade. Presumeably, since only one has been worn for some time now.

A minor celebration was allowed. Mostly because my significant other’s breakage was significantly worse than initially explained. It now transpires than an ankle was also broken. While the issue wasn’t highlighted at the beginning of this journey,  I do understand that there may have been a desire not to panic my second in command.

It’s all over now though. We’re now a single crutch household. And, after a week or two, we shall move to a walking stick.

Kind of Augustines II

Memories from last night have been emerging through the day. Apparently, I told Mr McCarthy that my second in command had walked 17 miles on crutches to see him. Obviously, that wasn’t quite true. And he understood that, even found it amusing.

Such claims were largely due to the 6.8â„… Jakehead. I’d only had two or three, then thought it wise to switch to Erdinger. Anyway, I enjoyed nice conversation with Billy. And I’m sure my second in command enjoyed her hugs with Mr McCarthy.

Some other, pretty random, pictures from yesterday.

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Well, I did say they were random. There’s a story behind most of them, but I’m way too lazy to go into that level of detail.

Anyway, It was a great night. There are a couple of full band gigs on sale soon; we quite fancy March in Manchester. And, hopefully, somewhere nearer home.

Ixat (ixat)

Today, my evening was spent in Whitley Bay. It’s a place associated with both pleasant and less so experiences. I used to take my kids there when they were little. Usually, we’d have chips at the beach. They were cooked in palm oil; ethically questionable nowadays, but better than melted down cows or pigs, as was the norm at the time. And, when a marriage that shouldn’t have been went tits up a few years ago, I found a B&B there to escape the madness.

This evening was spent in the Fat Ox, where a band played. Unfortunately, the band play mostly heavy rock. And I’m not too keen on such things. But, they were actually OK. I wouldn’t commit to more than OK though.

I left earlier than planned, since my second in command was unwell. So my virtual post-it note, with late Metro times, wasn’t of much use.

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I should inform the casual reader that my companion this evening usually arrives (when in Newcastle or Gateshead) with a post-it filled with Metro times.

Arriving in Gateshead, with an urgent need to empty my bladder, I ran walked casually to the Tilley Stone. After using the facilities, I realised I’d missed the last bus. And, so, there was no alternative other than an ixat.

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Home now.

Station Hotel

The Station Hotel, where one could purchase a can of Carling for a quid a couple of years ago, was auctioned off a while back. We were disappointed that it was bought for a ridiculously cheap price, but the structural problems were a good enough reason to try to buy the place.

After a lengthy delay, including dialogue with Railtrack, who own the back wall (part of a railway bridge), building work has finally moved forward.

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Despite the structural issues, I still regret we hadn’t tried to buy the place.