Postcard From Northumberland, Part One

Some time back, Mrs JT decided we needed another break and arranged to rent a remote holiday let in Northumberland. I have been suffering from a chronic chest infection for most of the year but fortunately by the time it came around for our trip, it was in remission after numerous rounds of antibiotics, tests and ongoing use of a Salbutamol nebuliser.

So, at the start of this month (October) the big day came to get ready by loading up the trusty, just serviced, Land-Rover Defender, then, with Mrs JT beside me and the Sheepdog on his bunk in the back, we set off. It’s a long way from the Tull residence to the top of England, a drive of about 330 miles and 6 hours without stops, so which route to take? The executive decision was to first get to the M1 by the shortest and fastest route and then up the A1(M). This meant heading towards the West Midlands and taking the northern M5 / M6 route around the denizens of Brumistan to get to the M42 link to the M1.

The M42 link was the worst part of the whole trip. Roadworks and holdups to get past where the viaducts for the HS2 white elephant are being built followed by the ridiculous old two lane sections filled with big articulated trucks thundering along seeing who could do the slowest overtake of each other.

Once on the M1, it was pedal to the metal time relatively speaking as, although my Landy can cruise at motorway speeds, it is 13 years old, had just over 92k+ miles on the clock when we drove off and has the aerodynamics of a brick. At 70 mph it also drinks diesel like an unreformed alcoholic. The plan was to avoid the rip-off fuel costs at motorway services and to get off onto the parallel “A” roads for when the Landy needed refuelling. Just in case, under the Sheepdog’s bunk, I had stashed a few jerrycans of fuel so we were never going to be in danger of completely running out.

After a couple of rest stops, 8 hours later we arrived in deepest, darkest Northumberland, a county I have never been to and what a revelation! Rolling countryside, views of the North Sea on one side and the Cheviots on the other. Magnificent, and relatively unspoiled, apart from a few wind turbines.

We stayed near Berwick-upon-Tweed, close to Lindisfarne, on a privately owned estate. First day began by going to Seahouses, which was a bit disappointing as it very much felt to me like an out-of-season holiday destination stuck in a decaying time warp.

Then to Bamburgh where I was impressed by the sight of Bamburgh Castle with its ramparts, towers and crenelations. A very impressive edifice. We took time to walk around the village of Bamburgh itself. Within the local churchyard is the “grave” of Grace Darling of lifeboat rescue fame. This is a high Victorian mausoleum situated apparently so it could be seen by sailors returning to Bamburgh harbour.

Except, confusingly, she is not in it. She is actually buried with her parents and brother towards the middle of the churchyard. Another original memorial resides within the church itself and there is a small museum dedicated to her.

Subsequent day was our first trip into Berwick-upon-Tweed and another revelation. A classic old English market town filled with history, particularly the Elizabethan town walls, the 18th century barracks, the Georgian buildings and, best of all, it was clean, well-maintained and free of imposed “diversity”.

One thing that surprised me in Berwick and the surrounding area was that in the town and in most villages there was a Post Office, usually combined with a shop, and now a rarity down South. Also Berwick-upon-Tweed had a substantial police station with smartly dressed officers and well-maintained, clean patrol cars with no rainbow stickers. Just like stepping back into pre-millennium times.

Berwick-upon-Tweed was definitely my favourite town in Northumberland and a place I want to return to in the near future, preferably in a different season, perhaps early spring.

After Berwick, we decided to venture over the Scottish border into the Lowlands. We followed the Tweed and visited Coldstream. Apart from short business trips to factories in the then industrial backside of Glasgow, I have never been in Scotland before. A pleasant town with Georgian buildings with a history dedicated to the Coldstream Guards. Also surprisingly low cost diesel and friendly, soft spoken Scottish lowlanders.

Next day, to Alnwick and Alnmouth. We had visited Alnwick Castle before on a steam train excursion day trip so did not bother with visiting again the initially impressive but internally drab, dusty and over-commercialised castle. Alnwick itself is a great place with our first destination being Barter Books bookshop set in the restored old railway station. Many collectable books to be had and, having previously bought from them by post a 1927 edition of T.E. Lawrence’s “Revolt in the Desert”, I left with a choice copy of Saint-Exupery’s “Wind, Sand and Stars” autobiography about his time in the North African desert as a postal pilot pre-WW2. It also formed the background for his later children’s novel “Le Petit Prince”.

Like other towns we visited in Northumberland, Alnwick is a delightful, old-worldly place with lots of little shops and cafes but, because of its layout, suffers traffic management and parking problems. After Alnwick, a drive to Alnmouth to park by the beach. Northumberland beaches, like that at Alnmouth, create huge vistas where you can see the waves come in for miles in each direction with the outlines of distant castles. Being a very shallow bay, the tide comes in at a fast rate and in winter must be impressive with breakers crashing over onto the foreland. The Sheepdog, after a very brief paddle on the beach, decided going into the sea for a swim was not on as far as he was concerned!

Alnmouth itself was incredibly quiet and genteel although perhaps with too many commercially owned holiday lets. I bought some sandwiches from the local Post Office/grocery shop and had a chat with the manageress over payment. They had used to take cash but with the closure of the last local bank, had nowhere to easily pay cash in. The same bank, however, just happened to have a point-of-sale machine ready for them and that was it, a cashless village.

In Part 2, we go inland into the heart of Northern Northumbria.
 

© John Tull 2025