“What ! You didn’t WALK to Spennymoor ?” I hear you say. “It’s only six miles, you wimp“.
In honesty, Mrs RM was a bit exhausted and I didn’t want to abandon her too long.
And the bus (No.6, Sapphire), electric sockets and irritating juvenile behaviour free, had me outside the Little Tap in 20 minutes.
Yep, another shop conversion, but this one much more in the cosy local mould that characterises the North-East micro “scene”.
Cute pub dogs, a £2.80 “Toon Broon” perfectly served (sorry, can’t read the label and I just picked the first one), and a lovely chatty welcome.
“Which way’s the bus stop ?” I asked, 2 minutes before the 16:50 departure.
“Right” said the helpful Dave.
Obviously I turned left, or west, missed the 16:50, then found the 17:05 was delayed 13 minutes.
How do you kill
13 12 minutes in Spennymoor when the museum is closed, apart from taking photos of pubs ?
Blimey, it’s nearly 6 years since I was last here admiring the art and craft.
Back then, the Spoons had a better welcome than beer,
but now it’s dropped out of the GBG the beer has improved and the welcome was just as good. Go figure.
I only left the Doom Bar as it was now 17:17 and the bus left in 60 seconds.
Missed that one too (it came early, didn’t it ?). I’d have walked back quicker, and saved the £5.20 fare (more than I spent on two (2) pints). It was almost worth it to hear how the bus lady pronounced Tudhoe (“Tudda”). I nearly mansplained to her she was saying it wrong but it was an automated message.
The next bus DID turn up, it might have been a delayed 13:45 for all I know, and I chatted to an Old Boy who had thrillingly also nipped in the Spoons for a swift Guinness while waiting. He’d finished HIS pint.
Back in Durham I had to walk straight back to our hotel, passing on the delights of the Old Town and the Station House.
Back at the Queen’s Head Mrs RM was sufficiently revived to enjoy 2 lage glasses of white wine, some battered squid and potato skins in the public bar with a collection of east town characters to a soundtrack of “Silver Machine” and “My Sharona“.
My Black Sheep in John Smiths glass was a crisp 3.5, and I’ve rarely beer happier with life.