Yes, I know that’s not Weller. That’s not how this blog works.
My last Staffordshire tick should always be in Newcastle-u-Lyme, one-time home to legends.
A great county for pubs, but sadly this year’s crop is a bit micro/craft bar heavy. I guess it’s hard to build an original Victorian three room boozer from scratch in 2018, and Joules seem to have run out of steam.
So Newcastle has gone full-on craft bar, like a posher Middlesbrough, if you can imagine that.
But of course, they’re modern bars (and hairdressers) firmly rooted in the 1980s.
You have to pass Britain’s best collection of street art to get to Wellers.
I’m starting to get bewildered by central Newcastle, and Wellers is marked as being exactly where the Lymestone Vaults is.
But the Vaults has a few customers over 30.
Wellers clientele weren’t even conceived when the Style Council made the worst record of all time in 1987.
Two bouncers outside tell me that they’re expecting a lively Pravha-fuelled Bank Holiday Sunday.
All looks a bit civilised to me.
Mudgie reflected, in the comments on Sanctuary, on the growth of small vertical drinking establishments in towns like this.
There’s actually a bit of Proper seating here, underneath the “Cost of Loving” deluxe reissue, but I quickly realise I’ve picked the wrong day for a reflective visit.
But the service is quick, two blokes in front risk a public flogging by favouring cask over Pravha, and the peppery Wild Wood is the beer of the month, matched only by the view from the pub garden.
One question. Why is the lady drinking pasta with a fork?