By Dave Eadevic
September 7 2011
It has to be said first impressions on leaving the car park were not favourable. Neither were second impressions for that matter. Sunderland seems to have suffered more than most towns (I will not call it a city) from whatever collective madness gripped architects in the sixties and seventies.
The madness where after thousands of years of creating beautiful buildings, they suddenly became gripped with a fever to build ugly ones! It was like there was a competition for who could build the ugliest place to live in the country, I am not sure who eventually won, but the block of flats that overlooked the car park must have been high up in the running.
Walking through the shopping centre (another monstrosity but frankly Sunderland is not alone in this, I have yet to see a nice shopping centre, the metro centre is my idea of hell on earth.)
It had a sports direct so I went in and messed up their folded jeans for a while, but becoming bored with this small act of rebellion against FCW, I left to see outside.
I was at this point still fairly determined to find a bit of it I liked.
Walking up a street was a bearded man in a Sunderland top and flip flops carrying a sign saying ‘Christ is the answer’, presumably the question was what you would say if you were told you had to live in Sunderland.
Coming to the conclusion that I would not actually find anything I liked around the shops (I have yet to enjoy a single shopping experience that does not lead directly to me getting a new gadget) I decided to try a local hostelry.
Now I have this knack when it comes to pubs, drop me anywhere in the world and I will instantly find the worst pub on offer.
This was to be no exception. The place looked like a holding pen for the Jeremy Kyle show. There was obviously some sort of do going on as they were dressed in their best track suits. I was at least gratified to see the barmaids tattoos were spelled right.
I ordered a pint and tried to blend into the wallpaper, to avoid an argument or even worse a conversation.
The pint was without doubt one of the worst I have ever actually tasted. I took it back twice before it occurred to me that it was meant to taste like that. I gamely had another mouthful and left three quarters of it.
And frankly it was just more of the same, boring shops, ugly buildings and I was just about to give up hope of finding anything I actually liked when I discovered the museum.
Now it would be unfair to compare it to say the great north (Hancock), but it wasn’t bad. But what I really liked was the winter gardens tagged onto the end of it.
Basically it’s just a big greenhouse with trees, but it does have a walk way where you can stroll among the tree tops and see the tops of people’s heads. Which allows you to return to the ground and look knowingly, at people and think, ‘ha I’ve just seen the top of your head.’
And that was it. I returned to my car in the knowledge of next time someone challenges me that I have never been to Sunderland I could smirk in confidence
I even found a small part of it I quite liked. I won’t be going back; it’s really not worth it.
Dave Eadevic
