The day started so well with an early morning flight to the north east alongside an amusingly attired stag party whose groom was a Fulham fan. The smart stewardesses adroitly managed the group by convincing them that they had cleverly disguised vodka in the free water bottles they were distributing. The groom, who cheerful cried ‘Up the Fulham!’ in our direction as he disembarked, did get a celebratory beer before landing. The fun flight was followed by a decent drive into town with a friendly cabbie, who helped us navigate the pre-paid kiosk with charm.
We stayed in one of the architectural jewels of the Premier Inn crown, which is the converted 1930s iconic Co-op building with its outstanding art deco features including high ceilings and original staircases. Just the sort of Premier Inn where Fulham fans could nibble on caviar and Victoria Sponge whilst quaffing champagne or avail themselves of the offerings of the attached steak house. Well, you can in theory. That genial Geordie spirit clearly hadn’t spread to the surly desk clerk, who refused to allow us to pay for an early check in, and sent us out into Newcastle for hours after grudgingly storing our bags.
I ended up being grateful as we swapped sleep for a trip to the historic Grainger Market and lunch at Eats. A sumptuous soup, jacket potato, cherry scone, teas and several drinks came to a scarcely believable £16.50. I’ve spent too much time in London, clearly. Grainger Market is a marvel with a ceiling resembling that of the finest Victorian train stations, and it is easy to see why it was once regarded as the finest in Europe. It remains active today with a number of food, clothing and specialty stalls to tempt any shopper. The food shops were of a particular quality with mounds of fruit, vegetables, meats and local pastry delicacies that made me long for something similar in London. Of course, the capital’s equivalent would consume my entire pay check.
The literary enthusiast in me loved the city centre with book stores, second hand shops and the library all within walking distance. I grabbed a couple of gifts in the wonderful Waterstones, paused for tea in the cafe and then took in the Newcastle Library, where the local history section was sensational. A brief look in the sports section offered the two editions of the Utilita Football Yearbook, with plenty of Fulham facts, and plenty of Fulham mentions in Henry Winter’s fabulous Fifty Years of Hurt, the painstaking blow-by-blow account of England’s long wait for a senior football trophy. He doesn’t seem to have come the whole hog and recommended that a Fulham player should feature – but there’s time for him to call for Josh King or Ryan Sessegnon to part of Thomas Tuchel’s World Cup squad before the summer.
Despite Saturday’s gutting denouement, St. James’ Park remains one of my favourite away trips. I don’t love the crush of 50,000 Newcastle fans packing the pavement, but the stadium’s setting and view of such a historic city is incomparable. The fans also do a fantastic job of preserving their heritage by celebrating their heroes (I spotted a Bobby Robson flag in the Millburn stand) and the visually arresting pre-match flag and banner displays on the Gallowgate had this correspondent remembering my Swedish summer. The weather even cooperated – all the more important after our Bournemouth soaking – even if the result ultimately didn’t.
It’s hard to write about our dreadful defeat, especially as it seemed for so long to be following the template of February’s fine win. It is easy to be a Monday morning quarterback after a last-minute loss, and I’m sure Marco Silva might want to revisit some of those substitutions. I’ve really enjoyed Calvin Bassey playing with such confidence at the back, but the Nigerian ultimately cost us a point. That was so cruel after Fulham had fought so hard to make a game of it, with Sasa Lukic’s brave header bringing blood, sweat and tears (for the home fans, at least).
Getting so close to ending our worrying run of defeats makes it much worse – but, as Marco has said this afternoon, at least we have the opportunity to put things right at Wycombe right away. We licked our wounds with a terrific Turkish meal from Red Mezze and enjoyed a cultural visit to the Great North Museum before Burnley’s late, late show pushed Fulham closer to the relegation zone. I’m choosing to adopt the time-honoured tradition of not taking the table seriously until ten games in and hoping that a few returning heroes can get our season back on track. After all, Silva’s still a genius, isn’t he?
