…..Hello, Sadler’s Cat.
I finished that last post a little abruptly, about 20 seconds before I fell asleep, leaving you no doubt on tenterhooks as to where I’d found a post-match pint.
And if you don’t know where Sadler’s Yard is, you’re not alone, as neither does Matt. “Near Victoria Station, y’know, behind the Co-op” doesn’t cut it.
The Pilcrow , whose USP seemed to be it was built by slave labour from Chorlton or something, never seemed busy enough, but now Cloudwater have taken it over AND stuck their cask in it must be a destination venue, surely ?
Well, the Tand found it a bit chilled, in the worse sense, and rather quiet when he turned up a couple of hours before me.
As you’ll see from the photos, it wasn’t packed when I got there, having found every other pub on the way heaving.
It’s not going to appeal to the Old Codger crowd who’ll be terrorising Stockport next Friday, is it ?
But Mrs RM likes it, the staff are nice, and the cask (£5 a pint, Hey ! Manchester) was cool and tasty.
I really struggled to find a seat I liked, though. And I really dislike sitting on tables with reserved signs, particularly for reservations 90 minutes away. But that’s me, I never book.
On the way back to Piccadilly I marvelled at the outdoor drinking
and felt terribly jealous of a certain 20 year old living in the very heart of this wonderful city.