Big Fat Pig Gets Bigger And Fatter But Only After Feeling Younger

BFP is late-middle-aged. At least. However he and the Groupie have been indulging in the activity best suited to making you feel young again - visiting National Trust properties. On Monday it was Trerice and yesterday Lanhydrock. Both are excellent, Trerice a smallish Elizabethan manor house, Lanhydrock a grand Victorian estate which manages to feel liveable. In case you have missed the point, one feels younger when visiting such sites because of the general decrepitude of the other visitors. Works for me.

Trerice

 

 

  

Lanhydrock

As for getting bigger and fatter, well last night we went to Padstow's oldest pub, The Golden Lion. Beer was top draw - Doom Bar. The food was excellent and gargantuan. See below my plate of gammon, egg, pineapple (a seared wedge not some tinned crap), mushrooms, tomatoes, and onion rings (best ever - and when it comes to onion rings I'm a professional) - you can't even see the chips which came in a side dish. Highly recommended.

Today we are going to do some walking on the Camel Trail before resuming the weight-gain programme at Rick Stein's Seafood Restaurant tonight.  

A Wee Bit O' Culture And A Fine Piece Of Fish

The weather looks drab as I write this, armed with my morning coffee made in the stylish new stove-top pot I bought in Berwick. We have been lucky with the weather here in Northumberland and it is supposedly going to clear up today. Destination - Bamburgh Castle.

We went to Edinburgh on Monday. Great city. We drove to the excellent and refreshingly cheap park and ride at Newcraighall, then onwards by train into Waverley Station. We went for the cultural option and visited two fine museums, the National Gallery of Scotland, and the National Museum of Scotland. A wee bit o' culture does you good. Particularly impressive is the galleried hub of the National Museum, shown in the second picture below. We were unadventurous at lunchtime but Pizza Express was a handy and satisfactory option. I recommend the American Hot with jalapenos.

We were back in our walking boots yesterday, following the public footpath across Bamburgh Golf Course before descending to Budle Bay and returning to Bamburgh via the beach. The golf course is one of my favourites and always brings to mind my late friend Rod Meere - he and I enjoyed some great golf there . It is proposed by some as the the most scenic course in Britain (the world?) - they have a point. As for Bamburgh beach, well, all one can say is that it rivals the sand belt in Oregon - and in Oregon you don't get a castle.

We ate yesterday at the Craster Arms, next door to our apartment. The Groupie, after her slight disappointment at Lewis's on Saturday was delighted with a gargantuan piece of cod and excellent chunky chips. The Pig had an excellent burger, chips and a side of onion rings that were world-class. In my lifetime one of the greatest improvements has been the quality of pub food. Two pints of Beadnell Blonde helped the cause.

An Excess Of Exercise. A Greater Excess Of Eating

As the Moody Blues put it, it's a question of balance. And Big Fat Pig is on the wrong side of the equation. We have been on holiday for four days now and I have been a good boy and been out running twice - including a tortuous 5K this morning. So far, so good. The problem is that the Pig cannot help himself when faced with a pub menu. I have already told you about the excellent fare at the Joiners Arms, and now we have to add the Market Tavern in Alnwick to the list of recommendations. Not so haute cuisine as the Joiners but none the worse for that. A truly gargantuan portion of ham, egg and chips and two pints of Alnwick Amber Ale. Stuffed.

That was yesterday and today we have been good. Not only did I go for that run but the Groupie and I also walked from Newton-on-the-Sea past Emebleton and out towards the daunting ruin that is Dunstanburgh Castle. We went along the beach for the outward portion of the walk and then trudged up and down the coastal path through the dunes for our return. We were walking alongside Dunstanburgh Castle Golf Links, one of my favourite courses. As an added bonus I even found a golf ball (Callaway, so no cheapo) that must have been hit heroically off-line on the eighth. We took a picnic lunch (bought locally of course - support your local sheriff) and have actually managed to go a whole day without diverting into a pub. My poor old legs feel as stiff as the proverbial. I feel more than vaguely virtuous. Mind you there's an impudent Gavi chilling in the fridge here at Piggy Hall.

Where Did The Apostrophe Go?

The Joiners Arms, Newton-on-the-Sea, Northumberland. No apostrophe. This describes itself as a 'gastro pub', a self-delineation that I sometimes think can be a hostage to fortune. No such worries here. The food is superb. Chicken in a mushroom sauce for the Groupie, and a hearty fishfinger stotty with chips and a bowl of five bean soup for BFP. The Pig washed this down with a pint of Black Sheep Bitter.

You may gather from this information that Groupie and the Pig are on tour, staying in a suitably luxurious apartment in Beadnell. We were supposed to be in this glorious corner of England to celebrate the Pig's sixtieth two years ago, but Covid put paid to that. Now we are here and the Groupie had her own significant birthday yesterday. I won't get all soppy on you but it has to be said that it is the highest of honours that she passes her life with me. Many Happy Returns Gorgeous.

Before our lunch we had walked along Bamburgh's magnificent beach and in the evening we had a further celebratory drink in Beadnell's Craster Inn, a walk of fully fifty yards from the apartment. They were serving some gargantuan looking portions of fish and chips but we will save that treat for another day. The Pig confined himself to a pint of Beadnell Blonde. Life's been good to me so far. 

Of Films, Flat Track Bullies, Imbeciles And Other Annoyances

I think this has been the longest I have gone between posts on this blog. Do you know what, I just haven't been in the mood. A torpor has settled over the Big Fat Pig and he projects a general dissatisfaction with the way the world is comporting itself. Can you blame him? Brexit, bloody Brexit, Trump, bloody Trump, The weather, the bloody weather.

For heaven's sake man, pull yourself together; catch yourself on (as they say in the brilliant Derry Girls, and as they also say in the Irish family into which I married); more prosaically get a bloody grip: etcetera, etcetara [please insert exhortation of your choice].

Because when you actually remove the the self-indulgent dark glasses through which you view the world, there is still plenty of stuff to lift the heart. Mind you, none of it comes from the political scene where we have the gruesome spectacle of a Tory leadership contest in which most seem reluctantly to concede that Boris Johnson is the least bad option. All of this in a galaxy where no one has yet landed a death blow on the relic that is Jeremy Corbyn. You couldn't make this stuff up.

The Pig has endured watching Trump being entertained (royally and well) by the apparatus of the British state. Trump spent his time on the journey over thumping out tweets aimed at that political pygmy Sadiq Khan. What a ridiculous man (Trump not Khan, but then when you mention it ...). The Pig has come to the troubling realisation that Trump has done some politically good things (principally being the first man willing to get into a staring match with an immoral China) but that anything good is dwarfed by his lowering of the tone of public life to a previously unimaginable level. Were I an American (and I can think of plenty worse things to be) I would hold my nose and vote for a mediocrity like Joe Biden - this a man who was found out plagiarising no less an icon than the Welsh windbag himself, Neil Kinnock. I mean, Neil bloody Kinnock - seriously?

But what about those films I hear you ask. Two good films have cheered the Pig recently - you might call them comfort viewing. The Full Monty is not quite a great film but it has a very good run at it. It exudes humanity and dignity, which is pretty good going for a film about unemployed blokes getting their kit off for money. 8.5/10.

The second revisited favourite is, like The Full Monty, a movie that proves that short can be sweet - neither is over ninety minutes. Stand by Me is based on a short story by the copiously talented Stephen King. That source material makes for a beautiful film, locus for the directorial extraction of compelling performances from its juvenile leads. This is a work of art. 9/10.

All of which above writing has cheered the Pig up. Now, I promised you flat track bullies. I am just a little concerned by the hyping to clear favouritism of England's cricketers in the World Cup. They may go on to win but can we just remember that we have yet to meet any of the other likely three semi-finalists and, in amongst the glory have lost to a quixotic (this is a polite way of putting it) Pakistan. The old grouch in me feels a tumble from on high coming our way. I'm only saying.

2nd at Sedbergh - where's Pete gone?

As I swing into cheerfulness (it's good this bipolar lark) I will record a public thanks to BH, the organising force behind last week's QMT (it's a long story) golf tour to Appleby. Bad golf was played, good beer (and a little bad actually) was drunk and there was high drama with debutant tourist PJC conspiring to fall into the river at only the second hole of the tour from such a height that he broke his hip. Decidedly not funny, but definitely the stuff of legend. The local emergency services did him proud - rather reassuring in these austere times. The Pig's golf was modest and the weather was challenging. A great trip. Best beer, Timothy Taylor Landlord on the last night.

So now I feel a lot more cheerful - the power of the written word, even my own.

Are Brilliant ... Mark XXV

It's been some time since I last added to this particular unruly thread. You may complain that there is no rhyme or reason to its compilation. You will be right.

It has also been a good time since my last blog of any designation. You may complain, but I doubt that you will. You are discerning people and have other things in your life without having to be distressed about the (welcome?) silence of the Overgraduate.

So what have I been up to? Went to Anglesey/Mon. Went to Newcastle. Watched some rugby. All good stuff.

So what is brilliant?

Treaddur Bay.  Mon's most congenial resort village. Good walking in both directions from the beach car park and good beer and chips at the cafe by that car park. The rest of the food looked good as well but we saved our appetites for the Panton Arms in Pentraeth. No belly pork (the bloke on the next table ordered the last portion) which only slightly took the edge off it.

Treaddur Bay ... brilliant

Indian Pale Ale in many of its guises - a taste rediscovered from my earliest student days.

Hunt for the Wilderpeople. I've raved about this film on previous occasions but we rewatched it in the company of Daughter Number 2 and however enthusiastic I was in the past, it probably wasn't enough. Quite majestical (this phrase will make sense when you, as you must, see the movie). 9.5/10.

Whitley Bay Golf Club - whereat we played in glorious weather on the Friday of our annual Heineken Cup expedition. OG was not good enough for this track but enjoyed it immensely.

Whitley Bay Golf Club ... brilliant

Rugby Union - despite all the unintended consequences of professionalism and the modern crisis of participation (whither 4th XV rugby?) there is reassurance to be had in the European Finals weekend. Newcastle proved a worthy host and AO, JRS, AW, AS and BH incomparably good company. We've already bought our tickets for Marseilles next year.

Aston Old Edwardians (a sub-set of the previous entry) - a venerable institution not without its problems but the club that has given me most of my friends, many of whom I caught up with in Newcastle.

Another sub-set: the final two minutes of the first half of the Champions Cup final - quite simply the most ruthless and professional set of plays I have ever been lucky enough to witness. Saracens, chapeau.

Home.

Advent 23

DN1 and DN2 are home for Christmas after a mildly chaotic exit from That London - won't bore you with the details but all's well that ends well and we definitely earned the reward of a Chinese banquet. I've even had some cold prawn toast for breakfast.

Our beach at Benllech

 Ynys Mon (Anglesey to you and me) has become very important to me, a place of peace and comfort. From the two historic bridges that link it to the mainland (a third is now planned), to the easy grandeur of Plas Newydd; from the coastal glory of Trearddur Bay to the craggy outlook of South Stack; from real ale at Red Wharf Bay to excellent fish and chips at the Golden Fry; from waking after a sound sleep to good coffee taken at the front window looking over to the Great Orme in the distance. Ynys Mon is where I feel closest to my personal gods.

Advent 22

It has a castle. It has a fabulous golf course. It has good beer. It has good food. It has a flawless beach. It is Bamburgh.

What's Not To Like? No. 3 - Of Red Wine And Trifle

Storm Callum is today battering Ynys Mon so the Groupie and I have been housebound, her doing some housework (which, yes, does make me feel guilty) and me clattering out a few hundred words of the thesis - actually clattering is the wrong word of course because the modern keyboard does not sound the percussives of old-fashioned labour. How many of you who happen upon this will wonder quite what the old fart is on about?

More good times have been had here on the island and indeed on the mainland. Bodnant Garden: another bloody brilliant experience - been there umpteen times but it still enthralls and we actually managed to find a part of the garden that had eluded us on previous visits.

Church Bay in the rain - spendid. Robinson's Blonde Ale at the Trecastell Hotel - splendid. Coronation chicken on white bloomer with side orders of chips and onion rings - even more splendid. Red wine for supper with Tesco trifle - food of the gods. That wasn't all I ate but those are the bits I can recall. Lovely.

Schitt's Creek. Heard of it? On Netflix. Rather good.

It's still pissing down but storms do have an attraction. Weather is transient, scenery is permanent. 

 

What's Not to Like? No 2

There is beautiful and there is bloody beautiful. Take the A4080 to Pen-lon and park at the end of the road. Walk from there through dune and forest to the beach at Llanddwyn. Stop and take it all in. Bloody beautiful. Thereafter take in some good English fizz (Leckford Estate 2013) and eat the Groupie's home made chili con carne. Bloody beautiful - or Sunday as we call it.

Next, proof of the miracles of modern technology - have a look at the photograph below as taken by the Groupie on her iPhone. Compare it to the stock picture of the same aspect which I used in my last blog. The Groupie's is better, don't you think?

    
Yesterday we mooched round Beaumaris, one of those towns that put the 'Ee' in genteel, and a reassuring experience compared to the urban decay that is Bangor lying across the Menai Strait. A pint of Hartley's Cumbrian Ale in the George and Dragon before home to more of said chili. Bloody beautiful.

Today the Coastal Path from Lligwy to Dulas and then a pint of Unicorn to wash down sausage, egg, chips and beans at the Pilot Boat. The Groupie has baked some scones while I tackled the thesis. Did the Romans sanction human scrifice or was Shakespeare (or more probably George Peele - it's a long story - only ask me if you're bored) just make it up to spark the atrocities in Titus Andronicus? Another blody beautiful day.

What's Not To Like?

A bracing walk with the Groupie around the Treborth Botanic Garden (under the care of Bangor University) and down to the Southern side of the Britannia Bridge. I love this coastline and its human interventions.

A benign intervention

Shopping at Waitrose - such a civilised store even if the parking bays in Menai Bridge are too narrow.

Late lunch/early dinner at the Panton Arms in Pentraeth. Excellent food (as ever), great service (as ever), washed down with Glaslyn Ale from the Purple Moose Brewery. The Groupie had hake and a glass of sauvignon blanc.

Paddington 2. I loved the first film and I think this sequel might even be better. Ben Whishaw as the voice of the lovable bear is a very fine actor (a brilliant Richard II) but he runs the risk (as per the Robin Williams example) of his greatest work being as the voice of an animation. Altogether a warm and uplifting movie, viewed at the end of a day when I already felt uplifted. 8/10. Slept the sleep of the innocent - quite something for a gnarled old lawyer.

Are Brilliant ... Mark XXIV

Running up hills - actually this is hell whilst you do it but the aftermath floods your mind with unwarranted righteousness, even if the hills in question have all but finished you physically.

Benllech beach - ran on it before I tackled those pesky hills. In the off-season, as now, the sand is at its cleanest peak and you can run in near solitude. Endorphin city.

Canyonero (it's a Simpsons reference - look it up). This car has served us well and still it basks in the glory of its seven year warranty. Now that's great marketing.

Llyn Padarn, around which magnificent water we walked today. Yes, all the way around and me fresh from a run as well. Made up for the mess of food I ate yesterday.

Guinness and a portion of chips, with which I rewarded myself at the end of the walk. The Groupie went slightly more upmarket - sauvignon blanc and chips.

Llyn Ogwen, still bound in ice and which we took a scenic diversion to drive past on the way back from Llanberis.

My mood. Top draw deluxe. And next week is Cheltenham. Life is good.

6N18: Week 1

What a weekend! Not for you necessarily but for me I mean. I was in Anglesey, did a bit of walking with the Groupie and rather more eating and drinking. And in between times (thanks to the boon that is catch-up television) I watched all three of the rugby internationals and rounded things off with the Superbowl.

The eating and drinking first - walked around the bay from the family estate to Red Wharf Bay - bracingly cold, inspiring high tide, and just a bit of rain. Bosting. Ship Inn: pint of Timothy Taylor's Landlord to whet the appetite, then a very good seafood chowder, banoffee waffle, washed down with sauvignon blanc. Bosting but definitely slowed me down on the walk back - a bit more rain but not so much that you would complain.

some second-string

Next, the rugby. A stolid affair in Paris, where Ireland were markedly better than France but almost conspired to lose. This Irish side is potentially very good and after years of scepticism I'm beginning to see why they make such a fuss of Johnny Sexton. My favourites for the title, but only just. Wales v Scotland was oddly funny because it made complete charlies out of the alleged experts. This was to be the new dawn for Scotland, and Wales would be hobbled by injuries. As it was, the bad old Scotland turned up and got duffed up by a very impressive Wales team. Rhys Patchell is a player I have long liked and I think the injury to the always impressive Biggar may have done Wales a favour. International rugby is a hard school. It could all have been even worse for the Scots, what with Wales knocking on two scoring passes due to over-enthusiasm. As for the supposed lack of strength in depth in Welsh resources, I would say only this - anyone would miss Faletau but Moriarty is some second-string and if you can afford to leave Tipuric on the bench then things can't be all bad.

some third-string

On Sunday England won tidily enough in Rome but, as ever, there were errors and omissions. Mind you if Richard Moriarty is an impressive second-string, then Sam Simmonds is just as mighty a third-string at number eight. It all makes for a resounding clash between England and Wales next Saturday. Before that we will no doubt have to endure the childish mind-games of the two coaches. Paddy Power have the spread at eleven in England's favour - that strikes me as ridiculously optimistic and worth a punt on Wales. But what do I know?

Two very good things to come out of this first weekend: nobody won the Ronan O'Gara Gobshite Award and there were free-kicks awarded for not straight in the scrum. Good grief, they'll stop allowing New Zealand to get away with forward passes if things continue like this. We can hope.

Finally the Superbowl. I dutifully sat myself down in the company of several beers and a surfeit of hot dogs with no great expectation of a great match. Wrong again. A high scoring and dramatic clash. Some weekend. 

What I Did On My Holidays: 8

Back to Cragside today, not to revisit the house but to attempt to do justice to the massive estate. You could quite profitably spend the best part of a week getting to know the forests and lakes. There is a six mile road around the estate with numerous parking areas with intersecting walks commencing in them. We found time to do five walks from four of the car parks. Best views are from the Maroon Trail from the Crozier Car Park. What a place.

What a place

We indulged our habit of breaking the journey back here to have a pint of Black Sheep and a large sauvignon blanc at the Victoria Inn. Also a delicious but unnecessary portion of chunky chips. This really is a great part of the world. Gavi going down nicely - will be eating hunter's chicken shortly. As little orphan Annie used to say - it's a hard knock life.

What I Did On My Holidays: 6

Yesterday back to Alnwick but this time to visit the Alnwick Garden, a modern wonder of creativity and monumentalism.

The Grand Cascade at the Alnwick Garden

Today has been one of sporadic rain and high winds but in the face of my lethargy I plodded for four miles this morning. Coupled with our walk this afternoon from Craster to Dunstanburgh Castle I now feel ready for pesto pasta and vinous accompaniment. Judging by the clatter of bottles we delivered to the bottle bank at Craster we have been doing well by the vintners of the world.  I'm also doing my bit for brewers - two pints of Black Sheep at the Jolly Sailor in Craster. Bosting.

A two week holiday still doesn't feel like enough to do justice to this fabulous area. It's a hard life being me.

What I Did On My Holidays: 4

I'm such a good boy. I roused myself from another sound slumber and warded off the worst effects of over-eating (says he hopefully) by taking on another four mile run - this time into the dunes and out again (via someone's drive - sorry about that, I got lost) and then round the village green a few times with the castle lowering over me. Back to base for coffee and a bowl of Shredded Wheat. Breakfast of champions.

The Groupie had to do some work (boo) but when that was done we went for a good walk - into the village and over the golf course for  a couple of hours. There are people who know stuff who think Bamburgh Castle Golf Club the most picturesque in Britain. Who am I to argue? I played there years ago with my late and lamented mate Rod Meere.

We stopped off on our return journey at the Victoria Inn to reward our efforts. The Groupie had her usual sauvignon blanc and I went for the Black Sheep Bitter, which as any fule kno is damned fine beer. Damned fine thick-cut chips with our drinks. Naughty but nice and we are on our hols after all. Curry for tea - I may have to run more than four miles next time.

What I Did On My Holidays: 2

No running today. Another great night's sleep. Weather a tad gloomy but no rain on the righteous - it all fell before we set out for Berwick-upon-Tweed.

Tasted fine to me but what do I know?

Visited the regimental museum of the King's Own Scottish Borderers - such places are always good for administering a healthy dollop of humility. Walked the town walls and had coffee and dime bar cake before heading back to Bamburgh. Stopped off in the village for a pint of VIP Village Bike, brewed in Alnwick. Went down well enough with this non-expert. Groupie stuck to sauvignon blanc. Will be having chilli con carne for us tea.

We have been treating ourselves to old episodes of Phoenix Nights. Peter Kay - bloody genius.

All still well in the world.

I've Been Avoiding The Subject

I went to bed last Thursday with a bad feeling about the whole election farrago. I awoke on Friday to find my unease was fully justified. In surely the most catastrophic act of hubris since Edward Heath had the temerity to ask the unions who governed the country, Theresa May managed to lose the moral high ground to a third rate terrorist apologist and his sidekicks Madame Stupid and the Smiling Larcenist. Apparently the young are to blame - perhaps they will have to live with rampant inflation and a stony-broke Treasury before they realise just how shit a place Britain can be. Perhaps they might like to take a look at how Venezuela has ended up - why it seems only yesterday that Citizen Ken was using taxpayer money to laud the 'achievements'of Hugo Chavez. Corbyn was another cheerleader, natch.

Actually I don't blame the young. I've totted it all up and I blame ... Theresa May and the boneheads who advised her that this was the right time to open the Pandora's Box marked 'Dementia Tax'. Still the good thing about a hung parliament is that the shit-for-brains politicians will find their legislative ambitions stymied and might just leave us alone to order our lives as we see fit. Fat chance. And if I hear one more pudding-brained cretin telling me that all that is required is for the 'rich to pay their fair share' I might swing for someone. I'm not particularly rich (despite rumours to the contrary that I may have started by my irresponsible lifestyle) but I am one of Larcenist McDonnell's target group and I can tell you this, John Boy, I've always paid my due and it has felt like plenty. The problem is the use to which successive politicians of all hues have put it.

When in doubt reach for a quotation from a nineteenth century French economist:

Everyone wants to live at the expense of the state. They forget that the state wants to live at the expense of everyone.

All is well in the world - beer is being brewed

But not to worry, ICW and I had a long and liquid lunch on Friday and if we didn't put the world to rights we at least agreed that between us we could do a better job at practically everything - governing, running the Lions tour, and so on and so forth. We were fuelled by Sutton Pale Ale at the Brewhouse and Kitchen in Sutton Coldfield. Politics is only politics but mates are for life.

     

Are Brilliant ... Mark XXIII

food of the Midland gods

Rugby union football, to give it it's full name. I will write elsewhere about the start of the Six Nations but for now I'm on about plain old amateur rugger played by muddied oafs. I was at Edwardians yesterday afternoon to advise a young referee. A muddy pitch, a sparse crowd (more people in the bar watching the internationals - shame on you) and , all in all, a feeling of remarkable wellbeing.

Real ale - in this case the pint of carefully drawn Black Sheep in the bar after the game.

Pork scratchings - which I had with the beer. Black Country cordon bleu.

Holidays 16.6 - A Castle, A Pub And A Film

To Beaumaris and what was to have been Edward I's greatest castle. Rather in the manner of the best public works projects it ran into a financial hole and was left half-finished. Still pretty awesome. Spotted visiting this World Heritage Site at the same time as ourselves was a scouse plonker who proceeded to scale a sheer wall for the amusement of his toddler. It was difficult not to want him to fall off.

The greatest castle never built

For lunch we ducked into The George and Dragon Hotel. A proper old pub: low ceilings, beams, three beers on draught, and passable wine. Also plain but very adequate pub food. OG and Groupie each had the sausage, egg and chips at £6.00. Perfectly good. I could imagine settling down to a drinking session in the place, which is a compliment. Sometimes plain pleasures are what the doctor ordered.

In the evening we watched the film that won the Best Picture Oscar for 1940 - Hitchcock's Rebecca. Great fun. They don't have an Oscar for the best use of shadow but if they did this film would be right up there with Touch of Evil vying to win it. 8/10.