Yes, I’m staying in Eccles. That’s how brave I am at 53. The Milton Hotel has a job centre and NHS facility built into it, which could be useful later.
Great view for £34, but the WiFi is rubbish, so here’s one from my phone.
A wasted £34, since the GBG pub up the road in Prestwich had decided to close on Monday. Mark E Smith would have been appalled.
So I decided to make an overdue return to Eccles’s undisputed classic.
No, not that one.
The one in that TV show.
Oh good, a mobility scooter.
The Edwardian bits people drool over are to the left,
so I went right where the drinkers go.
The public is classic Holts, professional drinkers, arguments about crisps, betting slips, Bitter.
“Can I take a photo please ? I’ll put some money in the charity box“.
That seems to work, and Christie get 85p, so we’re all happy.
The Bitter is intense. The banter is world class.
Arguments about electronic bottle openers, Party 7, and the lack of scratchings contain a more cohesive plot than the “Bodyguard”.
An Old Boy braves the jalapeno crisps (84p) and insists I try them. They’re hot. Really hot.
The confusion gives me a chance to escape to the bit you’re supposed to marvel at, near the billiard room.
Stuff that. It’s a pub, not a museum.
Two pints in 25 minutes, both NBSS 3.5, a fiver the pair.
And the best pub atmosphere you’ll ever experience.