Since Patrick has graced these British shores, we haven't had a chance to explore much of my home country. So, on a whim last weekend, we decided to go up North, all the way to a little country pub near Newcastle. A quick shameful fact- also happens to be the furthest North that this little southern lass has ever been in the UK!
Stepping out at Newcastle station, we quickly hopped onto the train to Riding Mill; within minutes, we were out of the industrial city and into lush green countryside. Being the city dwellers that we are, we were naive enough to assume that taxis would be at the other end- but luckily, the cosy 'Wellington' pub came to the rescue and called us a cab to the village of Newton.
As soon as we walked into the Duke of Wellington (that Duke must have really made an impression around here), we were made to feel right at home. Stone walls, countryside views, and rooms just above the pub- just what we had been looking for. Our room felt very homey, with soft-mattresses beds and wooden beams (that would later have white smears- more on that in a sec)...
We didn't stay in our room for long, as we happened to have arrived on one of the most exciting nights on the Welly's calendar- race night! The very friendly Dave soon rushed up to us and explained the drill (in a strong Geordie accent, so we took from it what we could)- they would play around 8 races, and we could bet/buy horses in each race. Getting into the spirit of things, we did both...and lost the first two races. Only lost £2, but still...it hurt.
Before we were tempted to lose any more money, we headed back upstairs to chill out and plan our country walk the next day. As I lay back on my bed, I felt truly at one with the countryside around me; the birds were chirping so loudly, it was as though they were in the room. I closed my eyes to bask in the sounds, as the chirping was getting louder and louder...I looked up at the wooden beams, and- you guessed it- a little birdie was staring back at us. He was literally pooping himself with fear as we tried for at least half an hour to get him out. That little birdie wasn't the only one flapping about all over th place by the end of it...
By pure coincidence, we had chosen a pub slap bang in the middle of Hadrian's Wall country. Here's a quick history lesson- Hadrian's Wall was built 2000 years ago by the Roman Emperor Hadrian, and in its glory days, stretched from coast to coast. Today, only a few sections remain. It is NOT the wall that separates England and Scotland, as I have assumed for around 20 years. I blame the movie Braveheart...did it feature in Braveheart? Not sure, but I'm blaming it anyway.
So, moving on...we fancied a bit of a country walk on Saturday, so decided to see some wall remnants at the aptly named Heddon-on-the-Wall. Google told us it would take 3 hours- Google told us wrong. After four hours of following the lovely (if muddy) Hadrian's Wall path, we finally found ourselves in Heddon...with no sign of the wall, as yet. There was a sign of two pubs, though, so we headed to the Swan for a quick pint and sandwich, as you do. We did eventually see the wall (in a random place behind someone's house!) and, luckily, it was actually a pretty impressive stretch. So, after half an hour of walking up and down and pretending we were Roman emperors, we started the long walk back. Ha, only kidding- we got a taxi, like the lazy sods that we are.
I loved the style of Geordie taxi drivers- always 5 minutes early, efficient, not stingy (telling us to only pay £10 when our fare was £11.50), and not hugely chatty (as miserable as that makes me sound!) Saying that, when we caught a cab to Corbridge the next morning, we were given some sound advice by the local sights.
'This is the nearest pub, then down there is another good one, and you'll find another just around the corner to the right'.
We obviously have that look about us.
So, we followed local advice, and Patrick found his perfect pub- a real, roaring fire, mahogany walls, and armchairs straight out of a 19th century smoking parlour. As well as a fair few country pubs buzzing with merry locals, Corbridge also had some Roman ruins of its own- the remnants of a fort where, back in the day, they kept all the tools used for building the wall. As Patrick mentioned on the day, our own ancestors could have been there 2000 years ago- who knows?
Before I move onto the pictures, a swift mention of the delicious food at the Duke of Wellington; over the weekend, we had ham hock terrine (Patrick's favourite), pan fried pheasant breast, slow cooked lamb, smoked haddock risotto, and a black pudding scotch egg. All washed down by some local Northern ales. That's before I even mentioned the included breakfast- now, I'm a big fan of breakfasts on the best of days, but even the Welli's Northumberland breakfast beat me!
So, a lovely little jaunt up North- lovely food, living history, cosy pubs, tasty ales and peaceful countryside. Essentially, a taste of the best of Britain (yes, even the food).
Enjoy the pics!
