retiredmartin

June 2025. Newcastle upon Tyne Big Weekend.

A confession.

I’d arrived in Newcastle in a fetching red pair of 15 year old shorts, roughly 8% of my entire wardrobe.

Possibly only the third ever outing for those, and with a smart casual curry in Corbridge that evening I was going to need a change of outfit, which is the sort of thing you expect from Doechii at “Glasto” not a tubby ticket on the Tyne.

I was hoping to be allowed to sneak off back to the hotel for an hour, allowing Mrs RM, Karen and Jane to Do Culture, but Mrs RM thought this “anti social”, which isn’t a label I’m particularly unhappy with.

So I was dragged into clothes shopping, starting at the historic Grainger Market.

Great for razors.

Cute, but not necessarily cuddly, as two of our group got told off for standing in front of their tat to take photos of someone else’s tat.

I’d never been to the Grainger before; the food outlets looked worth a revisit, but could I find a pair of men’s trousers that weren’t “industrial work wear”?

No. Luckily, Karen had done more research about pubs than I’d done on trousers, and tracked down Firebrick’s little tap, which has echoes of Bob bar in Chorley (as does the Grainger, it’s not as gorgeous as the Halifax Victorian).

I’ve seen Firebrick cask on bars of CAMRA friendly pubs a few times of late: this is their can and keg tap.

The sensible ladies went for the Broon Ale, I went for the stronger IPA (“Ooh, brave choice on a hot day” says lovely young barman).

Sort of loved this place, chatted a good half hour to “Gavin” from Hexham about first cars, Hebden Bridge and getting your teenager into the university the parents like.

“Gavin” is why you go to pubs (or indoor market bars), to meet random folk and make random connections over interesting beer.

But it hadn’t solved my trousers issue. Luckily, Newcastle has shops.

And impressive old buildings if you Look Up.