Well, I hope you enjoyed that live-blogging from a Spoons today, the Heaventeenth of May, as life returned to normal. Mostly.
But now I’ve got to bring this blog up-to-date, or I’ll get distressed and take it out on Baa Baa.
So here’s part II of the Cheadle Hulme Hop, as I look for something interesting to say about a busy Stockport suburb.
Google Maps tells you all you need know;
My notes says “nice flowers, smells nice“, which Cheadle Tourism can have free as a slogan.
I also like the styling of the Conservative Club,
and the brickwork at Pimlotts (est.1869) Butchers,
and the panini with bacon and nduja from Trattoria Express leaves a satisfying greasy smudge on my fleece which is sure to impress Quosh later.
A lot of pubs about, though most of those (upper) Cheadle ones turned us away last July.
There’s a Holt pub, a Greene King pub, and a Wetherspoons recently rescued by Stonegate; SIX GBG ticks over the years.
I headed for a half in the Hydes, cause it’s the best looking of the lot.
Like Holts, and Robbies to an extent, Hydes have moved away from their wet-led roots to operate upmarket diners like the John Millington, which I’d easily mistake for a Brunning & Price.
Compare and contrast this interior with their Jolly Angler (RIP).
I wasn’t sure that 3 beers was entirely sensible,
and when I was shown to the edge of the garden, or “pub creche” as it’s more accurately described, I soon realised that cask wasn’t king.
Not that those famous Cheshire thin glasses do anything for beer condition.
The staff are really great, happy to fit in the half-pint drinker after a warning that it might rain (rain? In Manchester?) soon, but they reckon without my righteousness, which ensures the grey cloud hovers but doesn’t dump its load till I reach the Norther Quarter.
The Original (I guess, I simply asked for a Hydes) is the epitome of NBSS 2.5+; foamy, soapy, a hint of straw but tasty enough*. Under £4 a pint, though I let them keep an unidentified amount of change.
A baby burps, he should have stayed off the Fosters. There’s more women than men here, I like that. As posh pubs go, this isn’t bad at all.
But enough of poshness, let’s head back to Piccadilly and show off my grease stains.
*Hey, does that count as beer tasting notes?!