Not really of course. Trainspotting is, ahem, much too noble a pastime for the likes of me, but hopefully Tom will enjoy these pictures of noisy engines at Ramsbottom Station, where trains pretend to go to interesting places in Rossendale and Rochdale, ignoring the harsh reality that folk here really want to go to Accrington.
Still, not a bad place to finish the historically inaccurate “Greater Manchester” section of the GBG,
though the smoke in my eyes threatened to put paid to the pub visit. What’s wrong with electricity, people ?
While it’s not unusual to see a stone built pub called the Railway opposite the station, it is odd to see it as the new entry in the Guide, after a few years of “Brewery Taps” and “First Chops” making us believe this was a town at the cutting edge of something.
In a place seemingly geared to upmarket gentlefolk impressed by trendy names (Grind & Tamp, Baratxuri, Lolos and Levanter), the Railway is strictly old school.
Right down to an almost “take it or leave it” beer range, which you’ll know I approve of.
Someone has found a good use for the preposterous new Pedigree glass, I see. Obviously I had the Cumberland, clearly pulled through already (I leant over the bar to check the drip mats), but still on the OK side of OK (NBSS 3).
It’s a very cheery and pleasant local, seemingly not benefitting much from the steam train custom as no-one was eating; another bonus for me, if not the Railway. Perhaps the R’n’B scared them away; they’re really into The Fall round here.
The delicate flowers drawn instead to Owens Restaurant (Prosecco from Italy) were missing out on some classic tradesmen banter, which I attempted to keep up with until it descended into the details of a “3 in a bed in Falkirk“, which is less fun than it sounds.
I averted my gaze toward the City of Wells, and blushed.