I’d parked up just south of Sunderland on Durham’s mining coast. It was a vibrant place before BRAPA went to the University of Sun’land in the late ’90s. This is the coast that pashmina’d Guardian readers DON’T go to, instead heading on to Northumberland with its Potter castles and smoked kippers. I’ve stopped off here… Continue reading EASINGTON – NO JEDI KNIGHTS OR POPES, BUT EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN