Back up North (A1/M62/M602) on Wednesday night before a day of Moving Matt to Manchester.
Yes, the day after we’d moved the entire Salford flat, giant snails and all,
into storage* on Ashton Old Road, Matt and mates belatedly had the keys to the city.
One last walk round the office blocks of Exchange Quay,
a vegan sausage roll from Greggs and fudge brownie from Bean Coffee, and off we go.
Oh, I seem to have killed someone overnight at Ordsall Park.
Will I ever be back to the Quays ? There’s a fair few brewery taps there now, but a dearth of proper pubs compared to Ancoats, where I headed with a car full of tat while Matt signed papers in Newton St.
Their house is pretty close to where the map says “Ale House Pub”.
Fake News. There is no “Ale House Pub”.
Their nearest bar is five minutes walk (ten minutes for those in inappropriate footwear) at Cotton Field Marina.
Yep, it’s the venerable cask.
Not open till 2 anyway, and I had a full afternoon of lugging boxes ahead of me, so I went for the daal, sour dough, long black and sanitising hand mist of uberposh bakery Pollen, after spending 12 minutes downloading their App.
Then I bought some nice housewarming flowers from ubernew Northern Lights, an unusually thoughtful act, I thought.
At the house, I seemed to have made my second killing of the day.
Six trips from the house to the storage depot later, it was finished.
A dozen six minute journeys with lots of pulling out into busy roads is actually more stressful than one three hour trip on a dual carriageway, and having to drive past this long dead pub didn’t help.
I never made it in the Bank, but Matt will have the choice of some of the world’s greatest pubs on his doorstep. For a few months, he can even do this one;
The main thing is, he’s finally arrived in Manchester.
*No, not the snails