June 2025. Newcastle upon Tyne.
Coming to the end of the Big Newcastle Weekend now, as we catch an Uber from Byker to the heart of studentland.
Blackpool Karen wanted to revisit some pubs from her Uni days, and I was keen to see some central boozers outside of the football season.
And I’d never been in the Trent House when it wasn’t too busy to enjoy. Oddly quiet early Saturday evening, but let’s not complain when you can have the best seat.
The young barman was, obviously, a cheery gem, explaining his Newky Broon Ale bottle collection.
The Allendale Pennine Pale was a cool 3.5 (Will was right), they’d kept the Tony Woodcock memorabilia that Karen no doubt remembers from the ’80s,
and the jukebox lurched violently from The Cure to Curiosity Killed The Cat.
“You MUST come and see the Gents !” I shouted down to Mrs RM.
She didn’t.
retiredmartin 