But first, the Dodo, another already famous micro pub. One I’d been looking forward to, even if I’d missed the Cloudwater on cask.
My first ever trip to Boston Manor Underground Station. I clearly hadn’t lived until this moment.
The walk to the Dodo takes you past Polish shops, pizza takeaways and plumbers merchants, less exciting than it sounds.
The highpoint is the frisson of excitement you get the moment before you arrive at a micropub that claims it’ll be open till 2pm but you have your doubts.
It takes approximately 2.75 seconds to sum up a micro pub, but you already know that.
A simple but classy place, sharing something with the RTBC in Burnage. Yes, some higher seating than I’d like, but some lower seating too by the huge windows, albeit nabbed by a couple of amiable Totten-ham fans playing a British version of Trivial Pursuit.
So what are Spuds fans doing this far west ? Ah yes, they play in Wembley these days, at least until the Beavertown Stadium opens in 2021 (tbc). They recommend the Siren.
Perhaps for the first time in a micro, I immediately see the Beer Menu on the wall, decide the Nor’Hop is the only option, and Lucy the owner shot off to the barrel to fetch a cool, unfined pint.
Our two Spuds were wonderful company, perhaps pints of 7% Siren were helping.
Showing rare restraint, I avoided answering their tougher question about Walter Raleigh and this one;
“Where do Manx cats come from ?” “Manchester ?”
I felt a bit Christmassy after a solitary pint, so it’s a good job I didn’t succumb to the Song of the Siren too.
My sort of toilet, too, from the twinning with a latrine in DR Congo to the no-nonsense advice we should all heed.