If you manage to get through North Shields alive, or bear the brunt of the perpetual traffic jam of the A1058 ‘coast road’, you might make it to Tynemouth, but it’s probably not worth risking either route unless you;
- Surf badly
- Are over the age of 50
- Like rubbish castles
Tynemouth is full of rubbish surfers who spend most of their time paddling around, waiting for the 2 waves over 2 foot tall that happen twice a year. It is also full of badly tattooed neanderthals with more back and neck fat than a bison, on the prowl for their natural mate – the permatanned, perma-permed, perma-smoking, divorced hoarse witches from North Shields. There is a **** castle perched on a cliff edge that costs over a tenner to get in, though once you’re in you’d happily pay a tenner to get out.
Only whichever deity you worship knows therefore, why the house prices are about five times that of the neighbouring area. A 1 bedroom ‘studio-apartment’ (someone’s loft) goes iro 2-300K. Why? Because the estate agents that run the coastal property market are about as pretentious as the whole cast of Made in Chelsea multiplied by The Only Way is Essex.
Even the crappy pubs have been sucked into this fake-gold plated charade, and demand a fiver for a pint of piss week ‘locally sourced’ craft beer IPA (out of date Fosters lager).
Unfortunately, I was born and bred in this town and I am probably stuck here for life, but I would equate it to Scarborough without the council estate. Except the chip shops serve imported frozen fish at 11.50 a serving, because it’s served in a fancy cardboard box.