IMAGES TAKEN NEAR TO
Moreland Road, SOUTH SHIELDS, NE34 8JE

On a cold winters day.

A long residential avenue.

One of the stores is a Dickson's; a butchers shop but also like a deli, selling salads, pies, snacks, meals and a wide range of products, and a business based firmly in the North-East of England, serving a community that they are from, part of and that they really understand. Whenever I visit this region I must have my regular fix of my favourite dish of their repertoire, namely, 'a saveloy with everything on', which is basically a cooked saveloy in a bread bun, accompanied by a scoop of pease pudding, a scoop of stuffing and a squirt of mustard, and the bread bun is dipped in the water in which the saveloy is cooked in, just for extra flavour, of course. To the uninitiated, it can, admittedly, look a somewhat sad affair; a wet, pale and stumpy saveloy sausage rammed in a wet bread roll - sorry, bread bun - and wedged in with what looks like very stale and past its use by date lump of mushy peas, a curious lump of Sunday roast dinner left-over stuffing and a cheeky squirt of yellow mustard. It is no Michelin starred item of nouvelle cuisine, no masterpiece of fusion foodiness. It is as straightforward as any Geordie or Sand Dancer. It is gruff, direct, honest and down to earth, and of course all the better for it. When you bite in you get all the combined components in an almighty taste sensation- the tasty soft saveloy, the texture of the pease pudding mixed with stuffing and the stab of the piquancy of the mustard, all enveloped in the gloriously simple bread bun, which is itself wrapped in a paper napkin and placed in a brown paper bag. Sadly, with me anyway, it is gone in a few bites. But I find that just one is enough - I'm full. I am satisfied. And most importantly I am using this well designed food item almost immediately to build my cells, repair my body, feed my soul and I can feel my metabolism absorb all its simple goodness. I practice my mimicry of the local accent and find that I have mastered it a tiny bit more. I am for a few minutes almost an honorary Sand Dancer. I hear the gulls cry a bit louder. I can smell the glorious scent of the sea air more clearly, I am sure that my eyesight sharpens. Maybe a few more hairs quietly sprout on my chest. I feel I can carry myself a tad more uprightly here on Whiteleas Way. If I keep coming back regularly Maybe I could almost pass for a local. I aspire to do so anyway.

A smart selection of convenience chain stores and some local independent businesses here.

A great local amenity.