![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/SEI_267586858-9bff.jpg\")
\n\t\tThis northern town isn\u2019t exactly a tourist favourite, but it has reason to be (Picture: Getty Images\/iStockphoto)<\/p>\n
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\n\t\tThis northern town isn\u2019t exactly a tourist favourite, but it has reason to be (Picture: Getty Images\/iStockphoto)<\/p>\n
Welcome to B-List Britain, a new and exclusive Metro Travel<\/a> series with Ben Aitken, the author of the book Shitty Breaks. Ben argues it\u2019s time to ditch the UK\u2019s hotspots and explore unsung cities instead, starting with England<\/a>\u2019s \u2018Queen of the North\u2019.<\/p>\n I\u00a0didn\u2019t so much arrive in Sunderland as wake up in it. <\/p>\n My train got in late, you see, and when I\u00a0emerged from the station it was raining old ladies and sticks, as they say in Welsh, so I\u00a0blew a fiver getting cabbed the three miles along the coast up to my digs, The Seaburn Inn<\/a> (doubles from \u00a385, including brekkie).<\/p>\n It wasn\u2019t until the next morning, when I\u00a0drew the curtains and stepped out onto the balcony, that I\u00a0got what I\u00a0was looking for\u00a0\u2013 an eyeful of Sunderland. <\/p>\n I\u00a0was confronted with a massive outdoor swimming pool (known as the North Sea) and a sizable stretch of sandy coastline.<\/p>\n People were jogging, lots of them, and one couple was even rollerblading while holding hands. I\u00a0could have been in LA.<\/p>\n \t\t\t\tSign up to The Getaway newsletter\t\t\t<\/p>\n Fuel your wanderlust with our curated newsletter of travel deals, guides and inspiration.\u00a0Sign up here<\/a>.<\/p>\n Due to their historic habit of making things, the good people of Sunderland are commonly referred to as Mackems.<\/p>\n As well as ships and beer, another of Sunderland\u2019s old industries was glass. At The National Glass Centre<\/a>, which I found beside the River Wear as I ambled into town, I\u00a0enjoyed the spectacle of a young blower turning a portion of molten glass into a vessel fit for tulips or pasta.<\/p>\n It was a genuinely beautiful and revealing half-hour. I\u2019ll never look through a window the same way again. (Free entry.)<\/p>\n Behind the Glass Centre is St\u00a0Peter\u2019s, an Anglo-Saxon monastery where, back in the late 600s, a clever clogs called the Venerable Bede wrote the pithily titled Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, a feat that earned him the title \u2018The Father of English History\u2019, and made him, technically, somewhat responsible for such things as corned beef and Nigel Farage<\/a>.<\/p>\n \t\t Sunderland is a good place to be hungry. <\/p>\n North does cracking seafood and was named in this year\u2019s Good Food Guide; while Propa<\/a> is spearheaded by Si King<\/a> (one half of The Hairy Bikers), and does the sort of pies you\u2019d want at your wedding.<\/p>\n On this occasion, I sourced a trio of local oddities from a bakery called Dickson\u2019s \u2013 pink slice, pease pudding, and something called a saveloy dip. I\u2019m happy to say that I\u2019ve been dreaming of the threesome ever since.<\/p>\n The first thing that occurred to me on seeing Sunderland\u2019s outdoor ski slope at close quarters was that there wasn\u2019t a flake of snow on the thing. <\/p>\n They\u2019re taking the piste, I\u00a0thought.<\/p>\n \t\t Turns out the slope is basically an old slag heap that\u2019s been transformed into 160m of potential catastrophe. There are some who lament the demise of British industry, but if skiing is the result of post-industrialisation, then count me in. (\u00a320 for three hours, including ski hire.)<\/p>\n And what of Sunderland\u2019s apr\u00e8s ski scene? In short, it\u2019s not bad. <\/p>\n After umming and ahing about whether to see a play at The Empire or a comic at The Fire Station, I eventually plumped for a poetry recital at a place called Pop Recs<\/a>.<\/p>\n This was followed by a visit to Mexico 70<\/a>, where the menu is about as posh as the people of Sunderland will tolerate, I\u00a0fancy. My hand-pressed tacos were filled with Vietnamese beef shin, torched sweet peppers, agave syrup, watercress crema and Pico de Galla, who I\u00a0thought played for Leeds.<\/p>\n I chased my tacos with a pint of Sticky Toffee Porter at a pub around the corner called The Ship Isis, where a local band were singing about inflation and elephants. <\/p>\n During a lull in proceedings, I was told by the drummer that when Sunderland lost the \u201992 cup final to Liverpool, and the players went up to be consoled by the Queen<\/a>, she gave them winners\u2019 medals by mistake. <\/p>\n \u2018Or maybe it wasn\u2019t a mistake,\u2019 said the drummer, tapping her nose. \u2018Maybe the Queen knew something good when she saw it, and made the decision to ignore the statistics and give Sunderland its due.\u2019 As far as conspiracies go, it\u2019s not a bad one.\u00a0<\/p>\n \t\t The next morning, I put on a wetsuit, a helmet, and a look of genuine foreboding, and set off for a stint of coasteering, which is a bit like mountaineering, only along a coastline and dressed as described.<\/p>\n Despite the competence of our instructor, as we jumped off this and clambered up the other, I\u00a0found myself in a state of near-constant apprehension. I\u2019m not inclined to danger, you see, no matter how modest. My idea of a thrill is unloading the dishwasher. For me, the best part of the coasteering experience was just bobbing about in the sea. (Adventure Sunderland; \u00a325.)<\/p>\n On the train back to London, I decided I\u00a0could live in Sunderland.<\/p>\n \t\t I\u2019d run on the beach listening to Roxy Music. I\u2019d become an expert skier and an amateur glassblower. I\u2019d explore Northumberland Park and the North Yorkshire Moors.<\/p>\n I\u2019d look out for those famous local faces, back home to see their mam, like Lauren Laverne or Gina McKee.<\/p>\n I\u00a0wouldn\u2019t be Sunderland until I\u00a0die. But I\u2019d be Sunderland for a while. A good, happy while. <\/p>\n Until some other complicated metropolis dug its claws into my heart, and I\u00a0was compelled to skip town for a rival, better and brighter for having briefly been a Mackem.<\/p>\n Ben Aitken is the author of Shitty Breaks: A Celebration of Unsung Cities.<\/p>\n Come back next Monday for the latest instalment of B-List Britain.<\/p>\n Arrow Arrow Arrow![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/IMG_3007-2c34-e1759332759930.jpeg\")
\n\t\tSunderland has a belter of a beach (Picture: Ben Aitken)<\/p>\n![\"Sunderland](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/SEI_267586887-fc17.jpg\")
\n\t\tKeeping watch (Picture: Shutterstock \/ SlaterMark10)<\/p>\n![\"Aerial](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/SEI_267586888-3396.jpg\")
\n\t\tThe beating heart of the Mackems (Picture: Shutterstock \/ 4kclips)<\/p>\n![\"Ben](\"https:\/\/www.europesays.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/10\/IMG_3140-bd2e-e1759477040117.jpeg\")
\n\t\tNot Sunderland \u2019til I die, but Sunderland for a while (Picture: Ben Aitken)<\/p>\n
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