Back in 2002, listeners to Radio 4's Today programme voted Grey Street the finest street in Britain. Newcastle's marketing department has been living off that claim ever since. Pevsner and Betjeman rated it extremely highly too, so there's clearly something to the claim, as is clear when you first glimpse the "descending subtle curve" of four-storey Georgian buildings. At the top of the road is Grey's Monument, erected to commemorate the Reform Act of 1832 which reached the statute books during the premiership of Earl Grey, local tea guru extraordinaire. Around his feet swirl shoppers and students, plus those emerging from the Metro interchange located underneath, while further down the street are the domed Central Exchange and the pedimented Theatre Royal. The broad sweep and gentle slope are no accident - a stream once ran this way, continuing down the line of Dean Street to...
✉ Side
What a great name for a street. Known locally since medieval times as 'the Side' (because it ran down the side of the hill beneath the castle), the street signs nevertheless call it simply 'Side'. My favourite sign has a '1' added in the corner to denote the postal district, the resulting image surely perfect for the label on an old long player. Side's former inns and shops are now more generally pubs and restaurants, part of the entertainment zone spilling along the historic Quayside, and lie in the shadow of a railway viaduct arching high overhead. And yes, Side is indeed thought to be the shortest street name in the country (tied with Hide in Beckton and Ross in County Durham), unless of course you know different.
✉ Newcastle Civic Centre
"Don't say you actually like that building," said BestMate, as I diverted across the gardens to try to get a better shot. Newcastle city council's HQ is very '60s, from the copper-roofed drum to the line of nine jagged flambeaux out front and the monolithic blocks arrayed behind. I almost persuaded him that the ring of heraldic sea horses round the bell tower was endearing, but as for the idea that this might be one of the finest modernist buildings of the 20th century, we agreed to differ.
✉ The Vampire Rabbit
Round the back of St Nicholas', not on the cathedral itself but on a facing building, is an ornate doorway topped by a vampire rabbit. That at least is its local nickname, nobody's completely sure why the crazed beast was carved here, despite much historical research. It might be to scare off graverobbers, it might be masonic, it might be 'a hare that went wrong', or it might only look demonic since someone painted it black, but it's pretty marvellous all the same.
✉ The Hoppings
Once a year, for reasons entirely disconnected to rabbits, The Hoppings comes to town. That's Europe's biggest funfair, a 135-year-old tradition, which turns up on Newcastle Town Moor for a week in June and wows the local population. The Hoppings stretches half a mile along the edge of the common, packed out with rides and stalls and tents and innumerable whirling seats. At the southern end is a village of gypsy caravans, most of which purport to belong to relatives of the original Gipsy Rosa Lee, while at the northern end the army set up a Military Show in an attempt to entice rudderless athletic souls into joining up. The central track is packed with plodding parents, thrill-seekers, kids downing brightly coloured sweets, teens and pre-teens running amok, and more than the usual number of neck tattoos. I risked a ride on the Wild Mouse, then partway round wished I hadn't, and stumbling off cheered that I had. Runs until Saturday, if you're in the area.
✉ Ouseburn Valley
Along the eastern edge of the city a small river has carved a deep valley, and it's here that Newcastle's earliest industries kicked off. The tidal creek still has a somewhat downbeat vibe, although several derelict buildings along the banks have been requisitioned and renovated to create new creative spaces, including the Biscuit Factory, the Toffee Factory and the Mushroom Works. Britain's National Centre for Children's Books is located here, with a magical steamboat moored out back, plus a city farm crammed into the next meander upstream. Three lofty viaducts carry road, rail and Metro high above this most unusual scene, which both bafflingly and brilliantly survives.
✉ Sniffer Dog
Where the Ouseburn enters the Tyne is a bike-hire-repair-shop-cafe called The Cycle Hub where we decided to stop for lunch. On the way in we spotted several police officers and their vehicles, plus a dog walking back and fro beside a car in the car park, and presumed they'd decided to stop for lunch too. Sat outside with our toasted sandwiches we could see the dog still walking back and fro beside the car... and then a policeman sealing off the exit to the car park with tape. Eventually he wandered over and asked us to take our food inside, calmly and quietly please, and not to leave the cafe! This proved an excellent excuse to order another chunk of the finest, thickest caramel slice either of us had ever tasted, as bike hub business carried on as normal, until we were finally able to escape round the backway through the boatyard. Obviously nothing whatsoever was really amiss, but 'you can't be too careful', and the car's owner returned two hours later unaware of all the commotion her odorous vehicle had caused.
✉ Byker
To Britons of a certain age, the Newcastle suburb of Byker will always be synonymous with a certain children's TV programme. The reality, however, is somewhat different... and not just because 'The Grove' was actually in Benwell, five miles to the west. The BykerEstate is architecturally renowned, built between 1969 and 1982 to house around ten thousand people in peculiarly geometric boxes. The most famous of these is the Byker Wall, an unbroken block of 620 maisonettes designed to shield noise from a motorway that was never built. But behind its multi-coloured facade is a warren of lower-rise homes, again peculiarly branded with bright-hued panelling, intermingled with large public gardens and car-free byways. The local kids are just as vivacious as on the TV, I can confirm, in this startlingly unusual place to live.
✉ Saturday night on the Toon
Friday nights in Newcastle are quite busy, but Saturday is the true Geordie Saturnalia. Groups of revellers replace the daytime drinkers, generally single sex, be they hen parties processing along the pavement in chunky heels or bunches of lads dropped off by a parent and spilling expectantly onto the street. An entire quarter of town appears devoted to insobriety, with a brigade of bouncers at every door to mitigate whatever might kick off later. Parties jockey, jostle and coalesce as the night draws on, mothers of the bride take to the dancefloor with handbags raised, and tanked-up students sing along to 80s anthems released long before they were born. By 2am the overwhelmed slump shattered in doorways, relationships have been made, or broken, and lines of taxis are mopping up the afflicted. Up on the Tyne Bridge the pavements are empty, dawn is already breaking as a glow in the northern sky, and I had a great night, thanks.
The city of Newcastle perches above a gorge on the river Tyne, about nine miles from the North Sea. Facing it on the opposite bank is Gateshead, and linking the two are seven bridges, which between them create the most famous views of the city. Let's start at the downstream end, with the newest of the lot.
Gateshead Millennium Bridge (2001)
If you still have an old pound coin, this bridge might be on it. The architects tackled the issue of crossing a navigable river at a low level in an unusual and original way. A curved counterbalanced deck crosses the Tyne, the inner track for pedestrians only and the outer dual use (including bikes). Normally the span's height is sufficient to allow pleasurecraft underneath, but for anything larger the entire structure is capable of rotating up to 40 degrees, which gives the bridge its nickname, the Winking (or Blinking) Eye.
Most days there'd be no need to raise the bridge at all, but the authorities know a good tourist attraction when they see one, so sometimes it rises two or three times a day. I got lucky on my first day in town, as a siren blared out across the valley and the chirpy controller advised pedestrians to hurry up and cross. Within five minutes the gates at each end were shut and the deck started to semi-perceptibly rise, soon reaching angles more suitable for rock climbers than casual strollers. At maximum elevation a pleasure boat which had been moored up on the bank cast off and chugged underneath, then returned with a satisfied hoot before the deck was lowered again.
I also got lucky on my last day in town, watching the entire scenario from the opposite side alongside a promenade of spectators and contented bar-sippers. What I didn't manage to see was one of its after-sunset tilts, or the bridge illuminated in rainbow colours, but the daytime spectacle was damned impressive enough. I wish I'd saved one of the pound coins as a souvenir.
Tyne Bridge (1928)
This green-painted Geordie icon was designed by Mott, Hay and Anderson, the same company as the similar (but larger) Sydney Harbour Bridge. King George V and Queen Mary were the first to drive across, in their Ascot landau, 26 metres above the river and beneath a grand parabolic arch. Crossing on foot feels somewhat exposed, though not vertiginous, hence there's a sign for the Samaritans in the middle for a very good reason.
Lifts were originally built in the four granite towers to allow access from pavement level to the quayside, but these have since closed and the exterior has been taken over by a colony of 800 black-leggedkittiwakes. Nowhere else in the world do these birds nest so far from the sea, although they make a hell of a racket and a heck of a mess so aren't universally welcomed.
Swing Bridge (1876)
In approximately the same spot as the Romans built their Pons Aelius, this Victorian bridge spans the Tyne at the foot of the gorge rather than the top. It was built to replace a static crossing, allowing larger ships to pass upstream and stimulating trade, and at the time was the largest swing bridge in the world. The entire structure pivots 90° around a central axis before coming to rest on a long wooden jetty, and is still powered by the original hydraulics. Unlike the Millennium Bridge it only rotates a handful of times a year, and unlike the Tyne Bridge remains pristine and kittiwake-free.
High Level Bridge (1849)
Arguably the city's finest engineering marvel, the High Level Bridge was designed by Robert Stephenson (son of George) to create a rail link north to Scotland. Trains passed across the top tier of the bridge, supported by tied cast iron arches, while a roadway and footpath ran directly underneath. Amazingly it still functions the same way today, if in somewhat diminished form. Road traffic is now restricted to buses and taxis southbound only, after a major restoration project ten years ago inserted protective barriers which reduced the available width. Meanwhile the majority of trains now use an upstream bridge, leaving only lighter services on the Sunderland line to follow the High Level.
Walking through as a pedestrian is a peculiar experience, as the road past Newcastle Castle suddenly enters a gloomy metal box in the sky. An old plaque confirms Robert Stephenson and Thomas Harrison as the engineers, and a modern sign offers the terminally depressed a telephone number to ring. The pavement then proceeds through a series of girdered arches, resembling some steampunk promenade, though with numerous telltale white splashes underfoot. A lot of gulls or pigeons - I didn't want to look up and check - roost in the metalwork of each compartmentalised section... and while I walked through this guano tombola scot-free, BestMate was not so lucky.
Queen Elizabeth II Bridge (1981) King Edward VII Bridge (1906)
Beyond a stretch of forlornlyundeveloped Gateshead riverside, the next two bridges are for trains. The younger of the two is painted blue and serves the Metro, Tyneside's light rail network, with trains emerging briefly from tunnels on either bank of the river allowing passengers to enjoy the view. The larger of the two is older, built to reduce the High Level bottleneck, and consists of four lattice steel spans on concrete piers. If you've ever ridden the East Coast Line north of Durham this is the path you take, and the bridge-tastic panorama is one of threereasons why you should always try to sit on the right hand side of the train.
Redheugh Bridge (1983)
Furthest west of the seven, this prestressed concrete span is thethirdroad bridge to be built in this location and carries the A189 across the Tyne. Princess Diana turned up to open it, as a plaque in the pavement railings above the loftiest drop confirms, hopefully on a day when the wind wasn't gusting too strong. Barely half a mile from the commercial hubbub of Newcastle Quayside, the landscape out this way is bleak and somewhat post-industrial, with a wall of council flats rising on the Gateshead side. Upstream the valley flattens and winds off into distant hills, whereas downstream the view is of the other six bridges... which is the photograph at the top of the post.
