House of the absent sun

(to paraphrase the famous no. 1 from the Animals, who came from here). Yes, I am in Newcastle and yes, the sun is in hiding. Not that it matters too much because there are plenty of indoor options. My hotel, next to the railway station, is a classic Victorian pile with this stupendous staircase where you can imagine the local grandees in full evening dress sweeping down to the ballroom. The view through the window gives an idea of nearby 19th century architecture.

An elegant arcade hosts an old-fashioned music shop, while the covered market is well up to the standards of those I have seen in southern Europe. The M & S shop easily outranks the Oxford Street branch which is threatened with demolition. Venturing outside, I marvel at the perspectives allowed by the steep slope of the upper city, where the railway station and shops are, to the riverside.

Finally, to a famous watering hole, named after the Duke of Northumberland. His surname matches that of a good friend of mine but as far as we know, no relation (as they say in Private Eye).Okumaya devam et