A busy August, including a day spent helping Matt move (checks compass) south-west of their house in Ancoats into what I understand from young people is called the Northern Quarter.
Emma’s parents had done the hard yards the day before so all I had to do was make a succession of car journeys carrying furry animals and Limp Bizkit posters.
Thrillingly, I also got to meet Emma’s lovely parents for the first time.
Worryingly, Dad greeted me with “Ah, so you’re Retired Martin ?”.
Meeting your son’s girlfriend’s parents should be a matter form some apprehension.
But NOT because you’ve probably slagged off their posh north-of-York village. Thankfully, they live near a classic rural pub, which you can read about here. They were great company.
We had lunch in Mackie Mayor, which would be cutting-edge in York, and then Matt took the dads on a tour of Manchester while the ladies went to Wilko.
Manchester never sleeps, does it ?
And when it does, it can now sleep in a Brew Dog hotel where the Elvis Juice comes out of the hot tap in the bathroom.
As soon as it’s available within my budget I’ll be staying there so the Southworths can book with confidence when they’re allowed here in 2024.
No, not the Waterhouse, or the Vine.
I reckon the City Arms is my Manchester pub of choice,
and at 3pm on a Tuesday the breadth of life was something else.
Note Matt drinking a pint of cask. Not Plum Porter (NBSS 4), but these things take time.
Oh, to be young and in Manchester.