24th January 2020
After my slog of a walk into Marple and back I was done. No Manc Beer Fest, no trip to Macclesfield, just a train back to Halifax and bed, where I probably slogged away doing this blog so Dave doesn’t complain.
But by 9.15 I was getting jealous of the fun Duncan was having in preemptive Holmfirth and I’d paid £37 for the room and I’d better get some value out of it.
I popped out to admire the Piece Hall again. As should you.
I suspect the value of the Piece Hall to Halifax is a complex thing to calculate. The town was full of the sort of folk who a year ago would have gone to The Calls or North Parade for their night out.
I’d done the new Halifax ticks, I’d done the pre-emptives, and there’s not a lot of “basic boozer” left, Spoons apart.
So I had a look at Pub Paper, the local non-CAMRA guide to pubs with a big dollop of the great Chris Dyson inside it.
So up-to-date is this, there was a touching tribute to Terry Jones, who’d died the day before. And, appropriately, some of the worst jokes known to man.
It’s a joy to read, all about pubby pleasures rather than breweries. But it does list the beer the town centre pubs and bars had on that week.
I counted 163 different beers available THAT NIGHT, which makes you wonder why we need big beer festivals at all.
At random, I thought I’d head back to the Victorian.
This was the forerunner of the craft bar boom, the North Bar or Port St Beer House if you like.
It impressed me in 2016, and just as much now.
Not so much because of the Squawk (NBSS 3+) but the squawking from the lasses on the lash across from me. A top pub attracts all sorts, this one has the lot.
I texted Duncan, on his way back to Halifax station.
“Do you fancy a half in the Vic, They’ve got that Lervig stout with coconuts and vanilla”
He fancied a last half. But not that one.