Real Ale, Real Music

Until last weekend I had never been to Darlington in my life, so I decided to get the train there and go for a look around. Here's what I found.... Fifty-six minutes after the train had left Leeds, it pulled into Darlington's classic Victorian brick station. I followed the throng heading towards the Way Out signs. I emerged from a subway into a cobbled car park, from which, not noticing any signs, I headed in the most promising-looking direction towards the town centre. Down a street of tanning shops and takeaways, towards a busy roundabout. A Hungry Horse and a Premier Inn lay in wait. Darlington is an old railway town, its place in history secured by being at one end of the Stockton and Darlington railway line which, with the journey of Stephenson's Rocket in 1825, paved the way for the first steam-powered regular railway line established to carry both passengers and freight. The town became a major centre for engineering both for the railways and industry in general

A meet-up with friends from out of town last weekend made me think that there has been no recent actual suggested tour around the pubs and bars of Halifax town centre. Here's the route we walked for starters.... It had taken ages to come up with a date that worked for all of us, but we had finally settled on last Saturday. Which is why, just after 1pm, I was sat on a barstool in the Three Pigeons awaiting the arrival of whom I call Alex but known to the online community simply as Quosh and Chris, who had last appeared in this blog when we visited the currently-closed  Donkeystones Brewery Tap   with the legendary Simon Everitt, aka BRAPA. Their train from Huddersfield was running slightly late, but I hadn't been in that long when the lads arrived. Handshakes were exchanged, and Chris even came bearing gifts: Having read my recent blog about visiting Bromley, he had dug out a book he had at home called The Bromley Boys , which chronicles a season following Bromley FC in the d

A return to Leeds, and a most enjoyable evening in and around Kirkstall Road.... The heavily-bandaged, bloodstained guy and the dodgy-looking bloke with the black cloak and dubious teeth were deep in conversation as I squeezed past them on my way to the bar. There was a strange, reddish glow as evil-looking orange heads with no eyes and crazy mouths stared out from all corners of the room. Cobwebs hung down  from the ceiling, spun by huge, black spiders, as a couple of zombies looked on. I was in the West End House in Kirkstall, Leeds, where the Halloween festivities were in full flow. It was my first-ever visit to the pub which was, years ago when I lived up the road in Headingley, a bastion of Whitbread and therefore not a place to expect any real ale. So, even though I had noticed it had been in the Good Beer Guide a few times in recent years, it wasn't a place that I had ever visited before. But as I was going to a gig at the Brudenell and I needed some food somewhere, I

Another away trip watching football, followed by a rainy night exploring some of the delights of a corner of South-East London.... It rained. And then it rained. And then it rained some more. The water was flowing down the street as the taxi dropped me at the Station Stop Cafe. I was the first of the gang to arrive. The staff were dealing with a leak as I arrived. Help was called. I ordered breakfast, and was half way through it as the rest of the lads started to appear. We were setting off from Brighouse to go to London, where Town, top of the National League were playing Bromley, who were in second place. Duly fed, we got the train from Brighouse, and once in Leeds, boarded our London-bound train. We had booked seats, but for those who hadn't there was a mad scramble for seats. There was a spare seat next to me, and a girl in her mid-twenties manoeuvring a large suitcase joined our table. The train set off. The lads opened their cans of Bud Light. I got chatting to the gir