7th February 2020
PARENTAL ADVISORY : NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH
I’m bringing you right up to date now with a dramatic 3-in-1 post; it’s a bit scary not knowing whether I’ll ever be able to leave Cambridgeshire again and bring you more tales.
You left me feeling all artisanal after my last Staffs tick, pondering mortality and Poynton in bod on Stoke Station.
A tasty, but inadvisable and unnecessary half of Titanic Stout, savoured on the platform.
In truth I was feeling a bit worn down by now, not so much because of the walking,
as the wearing-in of my bargain new shoes on my heel.
Should I have a quiet night in Stockport, or do a 3 mile walk to a suburban pub in Macclesfield, probably in teeming rain.
This blog makes no money but if it did my early post on Macclesfield would have made me about 3.5p by now. In truth,the title was the only good thing about it.
There’s one thing it didn’t tell you back in 2015, which I was reminded of on the uphill stretch of Back Wallgate.
My chances of being a dad (again) were pretty much extinguished on a dark night as I strode down that lane in 2013 after a session in the Red Willow.
I’ll leave you to work it out.
As in Whitehaven at Christmas, I probably said “Ow”, and it’s taken some time to forgive Cheshire’s second best pub town.
The 20 minute slog out east to Broken Cross and the Bull’s Head was uneventful.
But the pub was a lively community allrounder hunkering down for the Friday evening session, with a piano on hand to allow later renditions of Dire Straits classics.
Those seats at the piano were pretty much the only ones free, with groups of old friends taking up the left side and younger lads and lasses on the right.
A decent half of Unicorn from the usual Cheshire range was cool and crisp and it felt good to see a “normal” pub in the Guide.
So I popped in Picturedrome, aka Maccy Mayor as I’ve just called it.
Yes, Macclesfield now has communal dining, posh chips and Blackjack, with Laurel and Hardy on the big screen as entertainment.
Don’t knock it; there’ll be one in Crewe soon.
Just time to break the journey for a third time today and tick off the obligatory Poynton micro.
When I say Poynton you undoubtedly think ah, Everton defender. But you’re spelling his name wrong. No, Poynton in only famous for its shared space, which allows you to run across the road just like Stafford Paul without fear of being hit.
There’s nothing much across the road to risk your life for, unless you really like ticking Costas and Waitroses.
But the Flute and Firkin is cheery and attracts a mixed-age crowd who’ve once again taken all the available seats (downstairs, there’s no way I’m going upstairs).
A Beartown Kahuna is chewy and tasty (3+), albeit with that signature Cheshire taste that dogs all those posh micros round here.
Luckily, Poynton does still have one classic, unspoilt family brewer pub, which Pub Curmudgeon will be able to identify immediately…