Part II of the Great Wigan Wobble, which somehow squeezes 3 posts out of a lone half pint.
In 1937 George Arthur Blair wrote a piece that so infuriated Wigan folk that he had to change his name before releasing that dreadful Eurythmics record nearly 5 decades later.
And George didn’t have micropub opening times to contend with.
Regular readers will know I’m scarily positive about everything, and have been overjoyed to see towns as diverse as Nantwich and Beverley bouncing back from the pandemic.
But Newcastle-under-Lyme and Wigan and at the dead cat stage of bounce back, I guess, and felt a bit sorry for themselves.
If you don’t know what “Co-Mingling” is, it’s best not to ask.
I was also in need of food, having turned down the Swan & Railways pies. But a Google Maps search found hardly any lunchtime options, an increasingly common situation in small-town Britain.
So, reluctantly, I headed to you-know-where with an hour still to kill before my tick.
Yes, that one on the left is actually the Moon Under Water, which was the ACTUAL basis for George’s thesis on the perfect pub.
Back in the 40s the chicken bites (top) were made out of old shoes and gripe water, of course.
And the beer range would have had beers made in actual beer factories.
I had the Dalston Rhubarb water, as I’m trying to avoid unnecessary beer consumption unless Mrs RM is with me.
And then I headed off to Swinley, admiring the Victorian arcades, and wondering why we need High Street shops anymore.
As we’ll see, what we really need in 2021 is
a fairer society people who can show pubs how to update their opening times on Facebook.
2 thoughts on “DALSTON IN WIGAN”
I kinda like that red tile.
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I endeavour to mingle on a solitary level these days.