You left me at Salford Quays, downing a short pint of IPA in 60 seconds so I could catch the tram.
In a dramatic demonstration of the evils of drink, I bought my ticket but momentarily failed to apply my mask before leaping through the doors, raising the R rate by 0.00000271 in the process.
Matthew, Emma and Courtney boarded at Exchange Quay, the currently deserted office complex, and we admired the sunset I’d brought oop North from Cambridge.
I know many of you don’t agree, but Manchester really is magnificent from the tram. This is the Beetham Tower, where we stood in the same lift as Gareth Barry and James Milner in 2012.
And here’s some more modern buildings rubbing shoulders with the Midland Hotel.
And 10 minutes walk into student-land from St Peters, we reach th
e Lass O’Gowrie YES.
This is a smaller and less pashmina’d version of Mackie Mayor, packed with freshers from the Met gobbling half-price vegan kebabs and pizza and trying to follow the arrows to the loos.
The Beavertown Neck Oil and Magic Rock Sorcery isn’t half-price, mind.
Matt looks pleased as
I’m paying there’s no warm cask.
The Donna Summer garlic fries are almost worth the trip alone,
and Matt was clearly impressed with my perfect pour of the Magic Rock.
Two hours in YES, but the fresher’s night was still young. Where next…