As this is my first post of a 'photograph and a few words’, I thought I'd begin by offering a little insight into my new hometown, Blaydon-on-Tyne, although no one uses the 'on-Tyne' bit.
It’s thought that Blaydon meant ‘black hill’ or ‘bleak hill’. It's not so black now, although one might call it bleak on a grey wintery day. But it's undoubtedly a hill. Or, as we call them here, a bank. There are two, in fact, Blaydon Bank and Shibdon Bank. They are both steep, and houses populate both. I live on Shibdon Bank, and to give some indication of gradient, my lounge is level with the bedroom of the house 50 yards opposite down the hill, and likewise, the lounge of the house a similar distance behind mine looks into a bedroom of mine.
Blaydon was a village until the industrial revolution brought growth. It was stimulated by coal mining, chemical works, brickworks, engine building, steel forging, glass making and sawmills. Now all gone.
Within the Northeast and beyond, Blaydon is most famous as the setting for the Blaydon Races, a horse racing event immortalised in a song that's become the Geordie Anthem. Gateshead-born music hall performer Geordie Ridley wrote the song back in the 1860s. The places and people mentioned all existed at the time of its writing, and some still do.
Balmbra’s was once a Music Hall and is now a nightclub. And my cabbie, when taking me home from Newcastle Central station after my being away for Christmas, asked did I want to go down ‘Scotswood Road’.
One well-known nineteenth-century Blaydon character, John Brown - a Bellman (a Town Crier) is remembered in the song as Jackie Broon. He's now buried in Blaydon cemetery, of which I live a stone's throw away. The starting of the annual Blaydon athletic road race is with Jackie Broon’s actual bell.
Horse Racing began in Blaydon in 1861; the last race took place in 1916 and was then abandoned due to rioting caused by allegations of race fixing.
This large mural in the centre of Blaydon relates the song’s story. Here it is in the vernacular.
Aw went te Blaydon Races,
’twas on the neenth o’ Joon,
Eighteen Hundred and Sixty Two,
on a summer’s afternoon,
Aw teuk the bus frae Balmbra’s an’
she was heavy laden,
Away we went alang Collingwood Street,
That’s on the road to Blaydon.
Chorus
Oh me lads ye shud a’ seen us gannin’,
Passin’ the folks upon the road,
Just as they were stannin’
Thor wes lots o’ lads and lasses there,
All wi’ smilin’ faces,
Gannin’ alang the Scotswood Road
Te’ see the Blaydon Races.
We went past Armstrong’s factory,
and up te the `Robin Adair’,
Just gannin’ doon te’ the railway bridge,
The bus wheel flew off there.
The lasses lost their crinolines off,
An’ the veils that hide their faces.
An’ aw got two black eyes and a broken nose
In gan te Blaydon Races.
Chorus: Oh me lads…
When we gat the wheel put on away we went agyen,
But them that got their noses broke,
they cam’ back ower hyem.
Some went te the dispensary,
an’ others te’ Doctor Gibb’s,
An’ some sought oot the infirmary
to mend their broken ribs.
Chorus: Oh me lads…
Noo when we gat te Paradise
thor wes bonny game begun,
Thor wes fower and twenty on the bus,
Man hoo they danced and sung
They called on me to sing a sang,
aw sung them `Paddy Fagan’
Aw danced a jig and swung me twig,
That day aw went te Blaydon.
Chorus: Oh me lads…
We flew across the Chine Bridge
reet into Blaydon toon
The bellman he was callin’ there
they call him Jacky Broon,
Aw saw him talkin’ te some chaps,
an them he wes persuadin’
Te’ gan an’ see Geordie Ridley’s concert,
In the Mechanic’s Hall at Blaydon.
Chorus: Oh me lads…
The rain it poor’d doon aal the day
an’ myed the groond quite muddy,
Coffy Johnny had a white hat on,
They were shootin’ “whe stole the cuddy?”
There wes spice staals an’ monkey shows,
an’ aad wives sellin’ ciders,
an’ a chep wiv a hapeeny roondaboot,
shootin “now me boys” for riders.
Chorus: Oh me lads..