On 9 March, Wendy and I found ourselves on a flight from Belfast to Newcastle. As we approached our destination, the captain came over the tannoy.

Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies, but we’re currently unable to land at Newcastle. Work on the runway means that the lights are currently inoperable, and the current fog means that we cannot land without runway lights. We will circle for a while to see if the fog clears, but otherwise, we may need to divert.

Disappointment turned to dismay as the fog only thickened, and the captain eventually confirmed that we would be diverted… back to Belfast.

A few months later, dismay turned to disbelief as we stared at this chunk of runway tarmac in Newcastle Airport’s 90th anniversary exhibition:

It claimed, in black and white, that the runway resurfacing in March 2025 had been successfully completed ‘without disrupting the flight schedule’.

I beg to differ.

Yep, another mosaic.

Dominican monks have a long history in Newcastle, with Blackfriars Priory established in 1239. The Friars wore black tunics over white cloaks, as shown in the mosaic, which eventually led to Newcastle United wearing a black and white kit.

The Priory dissolved in the 1500s in line with Henry VIII’s decree. The church was stripped, but, unusually, the rest of the monastery remained standing and was given over to the city’s guilds—butchers, bakers, tailors and the like—hence the mention of ‘crafts’ in the mosaic.

These days, Blackfriars is probably best known for the restaurant which opened on the site in 2001. The unique location means that one can—as, indeed, Wendy and I have—dine in the oldest purpose-built dining room in the UK. I had steak.

This is the River God Tyne on the wall of Newcastle’s Civic Centre. It was the largest bronze sculpture in the UK when it was installed in 1968 and the artist was David Wynne (he of the nearby swans).

Occasionally, water trickles from his outstretched hand, over his head, and into that little collecting pool (but mostly splashing out of it and all over the place—which, I assume, is why it’s normally turned off).

When I told you that there were twelve mosaics under the A1058 in Newcastle, you may have had one of two thoughts:

1. Aren’t there fourteen? Why yes, that was poorly fact-checked.
2. Does this mean 13 more posts featuring photographs of grimy 1970s mosaics from a dodgy underpass? I can neither confirm nor deny, but this post might give you a clue.
   

Yesterday, in the context of the first passenger service of the new Metro train, I said:

with the UK’s public realm and infrastructure suffering from long term under-investment, it looks like we’ll be stuck with cascading sets of problems for years to come.

And how. By yesterday evening, the Metro network had been bisected: it has been judged unsafe for trains to travel in the tunnels which live under Gateshead’s 1960s flyover, which has been assessed as in danger of collapse.

This means that the Tyne can no longer be crossed by Metro. The works on the Tyne Bridge, as well as the flyover being closed, make road crossings of the Tyne in the city centre challenging, exacerbated by the closure of the High Level Bridge to most traffic some years ago.

The nearby Swing Bridge hasn’t swung in years, and the car park beneath the nearby Redheugh Bridge has been cordoned off because of the risk of bits of concrete dropping off it.

The Tyne Tunnels are restricted at weekends as one is needing maintenance closures to ’protect its long-term future’ only 13 years after its last nine-month refurbishment closure. The ferry across the Tyne has been closing early for weeks, and is expected to continue to do so for months, due to staff shortages.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m so lucky to be able to walk to work and avoid this chaos.

Deep beneath the A1058 in Newcastle lies a subway decorated with twelve mosaics. These were installed in 1979 in anticipation of the 900th anniversary of the city’s founding, celebrated the following year.

Each panel was chosen to represent a key event in the history of the city. With a little foresight, they included the opening of the Metro as one of those seminal moments:

The trains captured in that image have trundled round the system continuously since it opened… but not for much longer. Yesterday, the first of a new generation of Metro trains entered passenger service. Perhaps someone, somewhere is making mosaic to celebrate.

It’s a sign of the times that the new train is having to trundle under Gateshead at a reduced speed due to the risk of collapse of the crumbling Gateshead flyover. Small steps forward are always welcome, but with the UK’s public realm and infrastructure suffering from long term under-investment, it looks like we’ll be stuck with cascading sets of problems for years to come.

I’m very lucky to be able to walk to work… but walking to work by the light of the moon is a bit of a downer. Not as much of a downer as the alternatives, but a downer nonetheless.

Even with the solstice on Saturday, there’s a little while longer to go until the sunrise begins to get a little earlier.

Nothing says ‘Christmas’ quite like a giant cuddly peanut with reindeer antlers.

I said a few years ago that I think Paris is at its best on crisp, sun-drenched winter days. I reflected this week that Newcastle is pretty good under those same conditions… and unlike during that trip to Paris, the ice on Newcastle’s pavements hasn’t swiped my feet from under me (yet).

The Tyne and Wear Metro used to have 90 Metrocars formed into 45 trains. The fleet is now well beyond its intended lifespan, and some of the trains have been harvested for parts to keep it running. A while ago, the service frequency was reduced so that only 28 trains are required at peak times.

Yesterday morning, a quarter of the 28 running trains broke down in service. A few weeks ago, there was an afternoon when only twenty trains were available.

Somehow, none of this feels surprising—it feels like yet another example of a public service that no longer works properly, another asset which once evoked civic pride but now feels like a bit of an embarrassment.

There are plans in place to fix things—new trains are coming, for one thing—but reputations lost are hard to regain. Regardless of how quickly it might happen on paper, I wonder how long it will be until the system feels reliable again?