BRAPA - Tales from the Tyne (Part 2 of 2)

As I continued in my quest to find pubs open on Bank Holiday Monday, a sign took me down a cobbled bank towards the River Tyne, just behind the Gateshead International Stadium, where I once saw Hull City reserves lose in 2012 on a chilly Monday night for no apparent reason. 



I didn't know about this pubs existence back then, but it stood looking old, majestic, a little bit self important, but most importantly, open!


As I stepped up to take the above photo you see, to my right, a band who must've played here the previous night were shovelling their equipment into a van.  They glanced at me, like they wanted to be the focus of my attention.  I wonder if they were famous, or just thought they were?   Inside the Schooner (1628 / 2597), initial impressions were great as I saw the old carpet, nice woodwork, bench seating, stained glassed screens and the smell of good honest grub.  But this pub reminded me very much of the Rose Villa Tavern in the West Midlands on a smaller scale, because for all the old pub beauty, a feeling they were hellbent on fucking it up by trying to be 'everything to everyone' with gaudy yellow walls, fairy lights, musical decor, and a modern conservatory extension which didn't fit.  And all washed down with poor quality ale, very farty.  Perhaps there was an air lock.  I don't know how these things work.  Staff were pleasant but functional, lacking the personal touch of the Dolly Peel earlier.   The staff and band seemed to be at an awkward farewell stand off (very British!), in a semi circle right by my table.  "Soooo I guess we'd better go then".  "Yup".  "Well, been nice having you".  "Well, good luck with everything you are doing to this pub", "Well, cheers for last night, come again".  "Yup". "Bye then".  This went on in a kind of loop for a good 15 minutes.  The blokes wore hats and had swaggers like folk rock Paul McCartneys giving invisible blowjobs to their better selves.  The ladies all elfin features and ethereal voices, like comedienne Lucy Porter and Dobby from Harry Potter lost in a cave on the Emerald Isle.  Can you believe I'd had less than two pints when I made these observations?  Neither can I. 

Invisible man pulls my dodgy Tyneside Blonde

Stones glass probably the highlight

Some really nice features ....

.....and not.

I carried on my walk through Gateshead til I got to my third pub of the day.  Also open!  Was really cooking on gas now.  Though a bit of a struggle to find, directly under a railway arch, proof that the 'Toon is spilling its guts into Gateshead, looking for a new breed of Split Chimps.  

Train passing overhead as I take this photo - how bloody fascinating!

Looks a bit like an old pub from the outside, but don't be fooled!

Station East (1629 / 2598) was perhaps hard to find for everyone, for despite being well into the afternoon of this Bank Holiday in a central location, I was the only customer for the near on 40 minutes I was in here!  And that is sad isn't it?  And the reason I was here for 40 mins, my beer took so long to drink!  Nothing wrong with how it was kept, but this Tangerine murk from Blackpool was just so errm 'tangy', I found it quite hard to swallow (literally).  The young barmaid just fiddled on her phone (always think when only customer, you might get a chat) and in this respect, it reminded me quite a lot of my experience at the Firkin Shed in Bournemouth, without the crushing disappointment of actually being in Bournemouth.  Actually, as soon as I pressed send on my 'Tweet' to say nothing was happening, a train rumbled ahead and the whole building shook.  More freight trains cos it is a Bank Holiday, she tells me.   That is as fun as it got.  Well, that was until she was relieved by presumably her Mum (no, not like that Russ, don't be gross).  "Do you want anything getting?" asked Mum.  "No" sulked daughter and sloped off in a peak Firkin Shed moment.   But the Mum was a top canny lass, and I don't know how, but in seconds, we were exchanging the most gruesome sunburn stories we had!  Ok, she did disappear to do some vital pub work (probably), returning later to say "apologies for leaving you on your own!"  Did she think I was going to cut myself?  It wasn't THAT bad.  No, really.  

Birds eye view of bar from up where the loos were

Not much gannin' on 'ere is there?

I was pleased to see I could walk to my next pub, in Newcastle centre, in just 11 minutes over the river.

I don't really understand ......

Accidental shot of me crossing the threshold but I left it in anyway to prove my shoes were proper Mackem!

The kind of bar blockers even I can love

That mucky old church from out of the window

View towards the loo, everyone looking innocent so far

In the loo and not enjoying it

So, that frustratingly leaves 9 Tyne & Wear ticks.  Too many for one day, not enough for two.  I wouldn't mind getting back to do six of them one day before the end of August, but of course I have to prioritise Derbyshire.