retiredmartin

January 2024. Seaton Carew. Hartlepool.

I do like a town with a postcard painted on the wall, but it’s rather impractical to stick in the post box.

Mrs RM and I had dumped our bags in the Durham Hotel (more on that later), and with some alarm realised it was only a quarter to four, with no apparent evening entertainment in Seaton bar some live music in our target pub later that night.

And we were already staying in Hartlepool (livin’ la vida loca, eh ?) the next night, so best save that joy till then.

One train an hour north or south, and I decided to get my tick done in the 9 Anchors, also known as the Nine (9) Anchors, just in case they closed early for an awards party/wedding/earthquake.

Glad I’d got my hair cut the week before, hate to see a scruffy Retired Martin in the reflection of a micro.

I say micro, but the 9 Anchors isn’t your typical bare boards, high tables round the walls, micro.

What Pub says “During refurbishment of the premises, the plasterboard was removed, revealing original bare sandstone walls. The quirky tables and chairs are constructed from driftwood reclaimed from the beach and the bar has been converted from a Welsh dresser“.

It’s a stunner,

but beyond the driftwood and Welsh dressers is a cheery place with live music and a vibrant Hartlepudlian who enthused about her hometown and the new bars off Church Street. The Bank, The Owl, No. 7; she made Hartlepool sound like Kelham Island. And perhaps it would be.

I took an unflattering photo of Mrs RM,

we stopped for a half of Plum Porter (3.5) and promised to come back later that night to hear acoustic covers of Mumford and Sons album tracks.

And then we rushed for the train…