It’s 35 years since I played “New Year’s Day” by U2, and I still can’t be sure about the apostrophe in Year’s. Russ will correct it now I’ve given him editing rights on the blog.
I tipped up in Heaton Chapel on Tuesday afternoon having barely had a drop for 5 days, and therefore feeling rather better than the 99% of the population who consume half their annual units on 31 December.
Some folk had been having such a good time in the Heatons that they’d left their shoe for the shoe fairy.
Manchester was quieter than I’d ever seen it, with all the important places like the Piccadilly Tap closed up. How are we supposed to conquer Dryanuary when nothing is open ?
At least I could stand in the middle of the road and take photos for a change.
I arranged to meet Joan and Dave Southworth, who had travelled from Minneapolis to
laugh at us save cask at Brew Dog, which was shut. Surely everyone NEEDS an End of History on 1 January.
Albert’s Schloss next door was open, but fully booked, so we resorted to a Proper Manc Pub.
The Sir Ralph had its year of GBG glory when under some threat of demolition by Salford Devil “Phil” Neville; not that I’m equating the two.
Nowadays it’s just a great Manchester pub selling beer you might have heard of and showing Leeds lose at Forest. Always a good thing.
Dave and Joan don’t have pubs like this in Minnesota, apparently.
I suspect we discussed the burning issue of the day.
Just how do I get those lacings ?
But where next ? You’ll never guess.
NB Day 6 of 2019, and already the internet is on goslow, which means multiple short posts. Sorry to those of you who like BRAPA length epics.