retiredmartin

July 2025. East Boldon.

No sooner do I tell you my ambitious plans for August than family drama strikes, for the 36th consecutive month, and I’ve just spent all afternoon in a Kent A & E waiting room with my father-in-law eating lentil crisps.

Such is life, and a reminder to take every opportunity to do the important things, like finish counties in the Beer Guide rather than stay at home gardening.

And so it was that, having promptly finished Durham in Darlo that Monday night, I noticed some very cheap fares heading to Newcastle. For context, this is an actual fare from Sheffield tomorrow;

Now, with Senior Railcard, a head start up the A1 and fixed travel times it’s £11.60. Such are the vagaries of UK train pricing.

Half an hour later, after a sprint to Darlo station, I was back on (a quiet) Grainger Street,

dashing to catch the yellow line from Monument to Chillingham Road for Elder.

Which is where its starts to go awry. For a second time in a month, Newcastle trams have come to a grinding halt in the heat, and I suddenly realise that the three hours I’d allowed myself that Monday evening isn’t a lot with one pub out near Sunderland.

Cruelly, a mere year after seemingly being dragged out to this dull commuter village to finish Tyne & Wear at Boldon’s social club, I’m back again for a Cricket and Squash Club.

On the map, it looks like it’s right outside East Boldon station, but instead you need to slog through the polite back streets for twelve minutes to reach the long driveway,

where you’re greeted by the sight, and there’s no way I can sugar-coat this, women who’ve been exercising.

Avert your eyes from the squash/yoga/vegan crochet club, and dash into the clubhouse which looks exactly like every GBG cricket club from Hanging Heaton to St Annes.

Life After Football has the knack of finding lively sports clubs, but I don’t. And the lone other punter certainly isn’t leaving the company of his phone to discuss CAMRA policy disputes with me for the 10 minutes I’ve got here.

So I take my creamy pint of Maxim Samson (NBSS 3.5, £4) out on the terrace and watch young lads pack up their cricket kit.

Cricketers are ALWAYS packing up, putting on the heavy roller, or having an early tea. Do they ever play ?