Newcastle Town v Chasetown

This wasn’t the Newcastle I’ve had on my list to visit for yonks with Sarah, but the one in Stoke, where Chase were playing their last league game of the season. I’d been there before (whilst working at Chase) and I knew the walk to the ground to be hilly. That did not faze me now, as I am actively getting fitter, so on this occasion I viewed the hills as a challenge. I was also taking a different route today because I wasn’t working and could therefore factor in pubbage. I had visited some pubs here after my late friend Sally’s funeral (it’s DEFINITELY what she would have wanted), although I didn’t recognise the names of any of the pubs on today’s list (mainly compiled from the Good Beer Guide) from that visit.

This trip took some planning – in particular where I was going to eat reasonably healthily, whilst factoring in the obligatory Staffordshire Oatcakes – but Twitter came to the rescue in the form of friendly folk with local knowledge and thus my day turned out to be an absolute belter.

Southbound

As part of my health kick, I decided to take some bananas with me to eat on the train. As I was bagless today (not taking a book to force me to write on the train), I put the bananas in my pocket for my walk to the station. By the time I got to the station and was sitting down with my customary Earl Grey, the bananas had turned black. Wow who knew they turned THAT quickly? (More banana drama to follow in my next blog so make sure you subscribe).

On the train to Manchester, I overhead a woman asking to borrow a brush.

‘I’ve just got one I use to brush my hair and the dogs.’

Nice.

At Piccadilly, I needed a wee, so here’s an early loo review.

Now comfortable, I hopped on the connecting train to Stoke and was there in no time at all.

The Quarter at Potbank

Whilst I try to eat healthily on the move, sometimes this conflicts with my desire to indulge in the local cuisine (e.g. parmos in Middlesbrough). Today, being in Stoke, I simply HAD to have Staffordshire Oatcakes. These are LUSH and impossible to locate outside of the county. I spent a great deal of time researching the best places in Stoke/Newcastle for oatcakes but was really struggling. Ideally, I wanted a ‘sit down’ oatcake, because I learned at Kidsgrove that they’re tricky and messy to eat without proper cutlery to hand. And so I appealed to Twitter and Megan recommended this place (cheers Megan!). It looked a bit fancy pants but it had exactly what I was looking for, so I made it my first stop of the day.

This was an interesting conversion and I felt compelled to ask what the building used to be (a pottery place, obvs, need I have asked?). My host pointed to the windows and said that was where they used to paint the pottery because the light was good. She added that the kilns used to be at the back and the factory was in the room next door.

I was shown to a table where I contemplated the menu, even though I (sort of) knew what I was having.

My drink of choice this morning was the Suki Earl Grey Blue Flower because who can resist that?

This was a truly lovely place and, as I admired my surroundings to the sound of lounge music, I felt like I was on holiday (and not in Stoke).

My oatcakes were delivered with a warning that the plate was hot.

I went for the healthy fillings of egg and avocado. Frankly, it wasn’t the best choice. Whilst surprisingly filling, my mouth was coated with grease afterwards, which I put down to the ‘healthy fats’ in the avocado. Not fer me that. The food was scalding hot and I hadn’t been prepared for that. Had it been cooked on the plate in a kiln?

I checked the time and I was already behind on what was a very tight schedule (hills notwithstanding), so I marched to the counter, settled up and set off at pace up a massive fucking hill in the direction of Newcastle.

Ooh a Titanic pub!

I was half tempted to call in here but ain’t nobody got time for that. Must get back on schedule. At length I spied a hop on the horizon.

Hopinn

Having built up a thirst – and with no time to waste – I headed straight to the bar, my eyes desperately searching for someone to serve me. Out of nowhere, a man popped up and I placed my order.

There was one other punter and he was seated towards the back of the room with his back to the room. Clearly he wasn’t seeking company, then, so I sat quietly at the front of the room, by the bar.

I didn’t have time to explore too far here, so quickly supped up and marched off to tick off the next pub on my hitlist. Sadly, in my haste, I failed to remember to check out the recommended toilets.

I passed a house called ‘The Swamp’ and smiled. I bloody love the North.

The next pub was the other side of an underpass and I don’t like those, so I navigated a dangerous crossing over a busy road that wasn’t designed with pedestrians in mind.

Crossways

This pub looked shut on the approach but, as I continued to make my way round, I was pleased to see it was, in fact, open.

I was the only customer in here (it was still early but I wondered if others had likewise assumed it looked closed).

I was pretty hot now after all my rushing about, so I ordered a cool Liefmans Fruitesse, which proved just the tonic. I almost asked for ice in it, I was that hot.

It was the last match of the football season today, not just for Chase, but also for Blackpool. They were playing at Reading today, needing a win – and other results to go in their favour – to stand a chance of making the playoffs. I have been there too many times and my mental health management compelled me to not even think about going to the Madejski – hence I was heading to Newcastle Town today, for a match where the outcome didn’t really matter so much. As I scrolled through Twitter, this popped up.

This only served to demonstrate exactly why I had made the right decision to NOT go to the Blackpool match. It’s the hope that kills you. I did not need that fucking drama in my life. I downed my drink and continued on my pub mission.

It was a bit nippy out now, dropping my temperature even further. I amended my itinerary here on the recommendation of Lee on Twitter (sales guy for Front Row Brewing), who suggested a cheeky alley shortcut to the next pub.

Mellards Bar

This place was ACE – and a must visit if you’re heading to Newcastle. A warm welcome, a great vibe – oh and those beers!

And there’s more…

There was food available here too.

I earwigged on a conversation about Glasshouse Brewery which I had quite forgotten is a Birmingham-based brewery with a taproom in Stirchley. I suggested that Stirchley made for a great pub crawl. Having pondered on this, I intend to follow up on my own recommendation and visit Stirchley on a future visit to Birmingham.

I had to ask what made the above ‘not cocktails’, as it clearly wasn’t the absence of alcohol. My friendly host advised that they were pre-mixed and served in a gin glass. They sounded lush, though, and I’d go for either the Caribbean Dream or the Long French Martin (sic).

I could have stayed in here forever but that would have got very messy very quickly and I was starting to feel the beer now. I had made up my time now and was pretty much back on schedule which was just as well as I turned the wrong way out of this pub and had to double back on myself.

Ooh this place looks interesting but it’s not on my list so maybe next time.

Bridge Street Ale House

On arriving here, I couldn’t work the door. This is a common issue that I have. Instead of standing there struggling with it (was the pub even open?), I quickly took the decision to move on to the next pub. There were a lot to get through today. But then, as if by magic, a man opened the door and called after me. I muttered something about being rubbish with doors and stepped inside this traditional micropub.

Ooh Creme Bearlee! Boo it’s not on yet. I settled on the Black Rock Porter.

I had been pre-warned that this place was a ‘dead zone’ in terms of phone signal/tinternet and this proved to be the case in the back room, where I sat alone. Whilst this was frustrating in terms of catching up on Twitter and planning my route to the next pub, it did allow me time to observe my surroundings.

I settled back in the COMFIEST armchair that I could have easily fallen asleep in.

Before I left, I nipped for a customary loo review. On my way there, I passed a table of people sitting on sofas playing cards. How lovely. I did like this place.

As I headed out, my host wished me good luck at the football. How nice.

Dear reader, there are pubs EVERYWHERE in Newcastle; it’s no wonder it has so many Good Beer Guide entries (I’m missing out Cask Bar today because it doesn’t open until 2pm and I am restricted by timings; also Waggon & Horses, heartily recommended by two people for food, because it was a bit out of the way).

Bygones Tea Room had been recommended for breakfast but was rejected owing to lack of oatcake action. Plus ‘womelette’, please…

Boat & Horses

Front Row Lee had warned me about the confusing underpass that required navigating to get to this place. I was advised to exit at the one after the one I thought it should be, otherwise I’d end up in Morrisons car park. I consulted the options and the map and resolved that the correct option OUGHT to be ‘Brook Lane West and Car Park’ but, apparently not wanting to end up in the car park, I instead opted for ‘Brook Lane East’, despite the pub being on the west side of Brook Lane. And, lo and behold, that was the right exit. Cheers Lee!

This was a magnificent, traditional, local boozer and my favourite pub of the day. Again I received a warm welcome here and felt at home instantly.

‘Ooh two dark beers!’

‘We’ve got a dark mild coming soon. Then a light mild.’

This led to a conversation – with our host and the man at the next table – about beer styles and mixed drinks. I learned about a ‘black velvet’, which is a half and half dark beer and champagne. Not sure how I feel about that, adding fizz to a dark beer. There was also a complaint from the man at the next table, who was questioning why Bass wasn’t at the top of the above beer board. Our friendly host (who was from Lytham) pointed out that the beers were listed in the order of the pumps they were on, but I think he did agree to bump Bass up the list.

This was another pub I could have happily remained in but it was now time to head to the match.

A big difference between walking to a non league game as opposed to a league game is the absence of a crowd to follow to the ground. I was therefore once again relying on Google Maps and, well, I clearly hadn’t learned from my experience at (not at) Vauxhall Motors…

And thus I found myself outside a fitness centre on the wrong side of a body of water. How was I supposed to cross that? Swim? Wade? So much for all that time I’d just made up! Since I was still in turbo mode anyway, I made an about turn and traced the road round and calculated my own route to the ground. Happily, I made it in time for kick off.

Newcastle Town v Chasetown

Shit! I didn’t have any cash on me. Always a risk at non league grounds. I approached the turnstile pleading.

‘If you don’t take cards I’m going to cry.’

‘T’other gate.’

Phew!

I went and stood with Paul and Dave on the perimeter and regaled my tale of woe about my journey. In doing so, I realised that this longer route would impact on my post match plans. Hmm. I had a timed plan which involved a lot of walking, food and a specific train home. I was done with rushing around so took the decision to leave at half time so I could take my foot off the gas and relax for the remainder of the day.

Seven minutes into the game – what a belting goal from Langy! That made my Google Maps drama all worthwhile.

We discussed the pointlessness of perimeter advertising with small/illegible text that it’s impossible to read from the opposite side of the ground. This is a common theme at grounds across the country (it makes for a good game when the match is tedious).

At half time, on my way out, I stopped to say hello/goodbye to Edna, who promptly shuffled me into hospitality to catch up with her and John. I’d have felt bad eating anything as I was effectively gatecrashing but it was all unhealthy food anyway so that helped me to resist.

I headed into the clubhouse to buy a bottle of water (just a pound) for my walk back into Stoke.

Chase went on to win 2-1, with a penalty from Langy and a late consolation from Nathan Barry in injury time or added time or whatever it’s called these days.

The above photo was taken atop a VERY steep hill that was some challenge to descend. I was grateful to be back on the flat for the last leg to the pub I had earmarked for tea.

London Road Ale House

Wowzers! Yet another fab pub! This was a bit hipster and open plan and clearly very popular.

I had messaged the pub in advance to double-check they were serving food tonight (as that was the primary purpose of my visit, as I needed my tea). I arrived 15 minutes in advance of the food start time of 5pm so I spent this time considering the menu. This was, of course, dangerous, as I ended up talking myself into having two courses.

I trotted up to the bar to order.

‘How hot do you want it?’

‘As hot as you can get it.’

‘Are you sure? It’s Thai hot.’

I remained unconcerned. How hot could a dish of ginger, onion, mushroom and oyster sauce actually be? There’s nothing hot in there.

I found myself really enjoying the music in here. What was that?

Relaxing after my tea with my second pint, I took to contemplating the pump clips adorning the wall next to me.

It was lovely to be able to sit and relax for an hour. But now it was time to head off to my final watering hole of the day – the pub on Stoke station.

bod Stoke

This place is part of a chain of ‘cafe bars’, with outlets in Lichfield, Alsager, Stone, Matlock, Newport, Trentham, Stafford and Stoke (this one). The first one was the one in Stafford and, according to my host, it was so-named because it is situated on Bodmin Avenue.

There was a complex toilet situation here, involving asking for a key that was held behind the bar. I wasn’t going on the train, though, so I requested the key shortly before heading out onto the platform.

There was much loud revelling on the platform from Derby fans, who had won 2-0 at home to Carlisle today and won automatic promotion to the Championship. Blackpool had, of course, gone on to lose 3-2 at Reading, where a win would have secured them a place in the playoffs, so I’d saved myself that pain. It doesn’t hurt nearly so much when you’re not there to witness it.

Northbound

I was a little merry on the train home (another happy side effect of not going to watch Blackpool today and instead spending the day mainly in pubs). I inserted my AirPods and banged on The Dead South and spent some time researching where I could go and watch them live. Ooh Bratislava – that would be a new country. Ooh flights are only £45. Mercifully I was distracted by my phone before I got chance to press any buttons.

Back at Manchester Piccadilly, still listening to The Dead South, I found myself dancing (well toe tapping and grooving) on the platform but I didn’t care. There was a man close by doing exactly the same thing and it was a joyful sight.

By the time I got home, I had walked 14.9 miles (thanks for your part in that, Google Maps). But what a bloody good day that had been. I would thoroughly recommend Newcastle Under Lyme as a day out if you enjoy good beer and good pubs (but don’t mind hills).

If you enjoy my blogs, please consider supporting me via Patreon – details via this link.

Next Up: Burton Pubs.