Only fair that I continue my journey to Manchester via a quick stop in Todmorden, the sane older brother of Hebden.
Where HB assaults you with weird smells and key keg seats, in Tod you get kindness.
Plenty to admire on the OS extract, particularly for folk with minds as puerile as Russ.
Despite the contours, it’s not quite as bucolic as Hebden, but compared to my own Fenland village it’s a little bit of heaven.
The view of Calderdale as I whizz across the M62 to Manchester is my favourite view, anywhere.
Tod is Top, as my free tagline for the TIC has it. It’s a proper town with discount stores,
gold lettering,
boiled sweets for a quid,
top shop names,
and that ultimate Mudgie essential, a cat café.
There’s even a Spoons, which I know will now get in the Guide as I gave it a miss this time.
The pub is called “The Pub” and thus joins a long line of non-traditional pub names including (I kid you not) Polished Knob, Jack’s House, Alehouse, Barearts, and Shannon & Chesapeake.
The most you can hope from a micro called “Pub” is that it has those characteristics we want from a public house.
Proper seating and beer mats – check.
little jam jars showing you the colour of beer,
A clear beer board with prices.
And of course traditional pub games.
But stuff all that. I felt like a local in here, so great was the welcome.
The barmaid said folk arrange their visits for when she’s on, and I can vouch for the quality of the chat. We conspiratorially compared notes on the “Hempsters of Hebden” and I suddenly decides that Tod is Terrific (that one’s free too).
A chap came in as I left, asked for “a whisky drink” and then started singing “Tubthumping”.
Just mind the steps down, eh ?
retiredmartin 
Hadn’t heard of any of those beers, (a good thing), looks a great place, long live the pub.
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The only thing keeping it from being perfection was the lack of a mobility scooter. But the singing whisky drinker is a good substitute!
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Stupid WordPress…
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Talking of prerequisites I was in a craft beer brew bar in Ireland on Sunday afternoon to watch the boys gain revenge over Croatia whilst herself was filleting TK MAXX for Christmas presents.
As it was England playing the place was deserted except for a few Croat lads and myself although the Paddies may have been sleeping off the celebrations from their magnificent victory over the All-Blacks the night before.
It had everything you’d expect – shiny brewing kit behind glass walls,lots of exposed brickwork and industrial furniture,fixtures and fittings in what is basically a large shop unit in a newly-built shopping centre.
I had three different pints all of which were variations on the same theme of over-hopped IPAs until finally I gave up and had a bottle of La Chouffe from the fridge.
On the plus side they had an excellent outdoor smoking area with TVs,lots of overhead heaters and heated benches.It was from one of those benches while toking on a large cigar that I quietly said ” Yesssss” to myself when Sir Harry Kane knocked in the winner.Out of the corner of my eye I saw another old bloke do a little fist pump to himself.
Ah,another Brit,I thought to myself.
We tend to do our celebrations in private when the boys are playing.
Brexit has made us even more unpopular here.
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P P-T,
After my Sunday lunch I went to the Railway Inn not knowing a football match would be on the television there but despite the pub being unusually crowded and noisy I enjoyed my two pints of Draught Bass.
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Unpopular in Eire ? But we always voted for Johnny Logan, didn’t we ?
And I though the Kiwis walloped the women by 8 wickets ?
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The A646 corridor is very well known to me.
The pub and other business names might be bluntly factual, but they’re not quite as, well, plain ugly, as the place names often are in West Yorkshire: Hole Bottom – could have been worse – Mankinholes; Lumbutts; Bog Green; Breakneck Lane – that’s enough for one post, I think.
Saffron Walden could never be here.
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Fourth photograph from the top, the one with “Bunnies” underneath.
Is that Simey-Sevenpints in the photograph ? There is certainly a passing likeness to your earlier images of him.
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Uncanny.
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A very good looking boozer…if there is such a thing! Three different styles of beermats on the bar I’ll have you know…
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“Only fair that I continue my journey to Manchester via a quick stop in Todmorden, the sane older brother of Hebden.”
You’re just doing that because I misread it on the map in the last post. 😉
“particularly for folk with minds as puerile as Russ.”
I prefer to think of it as forever young. 🙂
(plus I’m completely ignoring how many holes and bottoms are on that map). 😉
“My tattoo says “Your name here””
And here’s me thinking “Johnny’s Tattoos” with the arrow meant you could go round the corner to see some fellow named Johnny with nary a square inch of skin that hasn’t been inked.
“Jelly baby singular must be a large one”
You try sucking on a whole baby.
“Surely “Miaow” thinks Russ”
Technically, ‘miaow’ is the British way. 😉
“including (I kid you not) Polished Knob”
They renamed it that after Harry Potter became popular (wizard’s staffs and all that).
“Mind those steps after six pints, Simon”
With his wonky knee even one pint will make that difficult. 🙂
“And fresh flowers, an underrated feature”
I’m more concerned about the holes in the middle of the, er, stools. Not for stools surely?
“joking, joking”
I thought for a moment that one on the left was named after me, but it’s Russet alas.
“A clear beer board with prices.”
Was the Eagle’s Crag free? It doesn’t show a price.
“Mind your head after seven pints, Simon”
Not to worry; with his wonky knee he’s crouched over most of the time.
Cheers!
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Don’t know where to start with all those questions, Russ. Where’s my intern when you need one ?
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