Back to Manchester last Saturday for an eight goal thriller at the Etihad.
I kid you not, the couple next to me turned up after a quarter of an hour, went for chips at half time and missed the sixth goal, then sodded off home to Stockport (it’s miles away) before the eighth. They probably think Watford won.
Before that, the joy of an arty morning in Manchester,
and the mild disappointment of the closure of my new favourite curry cafe.
I’d time for one new pub.
NOTHING (zilch) new in central Manchester so I took the fast train to Ashton. Would have been cheaper on the metro but takes 3 times as long.
First time on Tameside for a while, and always a joy.
QUIZ TIME : Name the TWO World Cup winners from Ashton. Clue – One got a hattrick in the final. And no, the other one wasn’t Pele.
A bustling shopping centre with plenty to admire:-
For research purposes, I popped in the revitalised Ash Tree; a Spoons teeming with City fans somehow ignoring the bargain Lees. I thought it was all United out here ?
The Ashton Tap House is tucked away at No.16 in the indoor market, which means an idyllic wander through hosiery, hinges and Hot Pot.
Ah, there it is.
It’s tiny. It makes Chorley’s Bob Inn look like a Spoons. 16 blokes squeezed in; some call it cosy but I’m not that type. Really friendly though.
Two beers and a Perry. Always go for the strong, dark one, folks. It was silky (NBSS 3.5+).
I stood at the bar and plonked my glass on the table behind. Frankly, I couldn’t move.
Ten seconds later, a chap was drinking my beer. Foxfield in reverse.
To stop him profusely apologising, I nicked his pint off the bar, luckily the Stout as well.
He was great. Came from Cheshire (Hyde) to drink in Lancashire, and like the rest of the bar had already been immortalised in caricature on the pub wall.
Sure, I’d prefer bench seating, wheezing Old Boys and a pub cat, but the Tap is as pubby as it gets. Which is just as well given the decimation of Ashton’s pubs since 2007.
A cracker. Just don’t forget the Hot Pot.