retiredmartin

Back in Manchester just after 7pm. A hotel room in the greatest city in the world, with no new GBG ticks for miles around. Should have stayed on the train to Blackpool.

Never mind, a quick veggie curry tea in the new Bundobust Brewery, whose cask collaboration with Thornbridge is the snappily named “Impromptu Ladder Convention“. Best, Mild, Plum Porter are the only names you need, lads.

James has been popping over to see his brother and notes how trains west are rammed with folk “having it large”* in Manchester.

THE Wetherspoons looked exciting. Winter can do that. They had 4 guest beers on, too.

But even James knows to avoid that Timbo Emporium. Those 50p vouchers will wear out (if not actually ever expire) soon.

Instead I meandered down Oldham Street, and stopped at the Ancoats Lad.

I have no idea what had grabbed my attention.

“GO IN! You know you want to” said a gentle lady leaving for a fag.

“I really do” I replied. And I did.

Actually, it wasn’t the promise of Bass (unconfirmed by Matt) that drew me in, it was a memory from a recent birthday (press play);

22 December 2021, folks, my first proper birthday since that Wallasey night.

Blimey, it’s wonderful. You could be in New Brighton at Christmas, and that’s something to aspire to.

“Got any Bass ?” A nervous look to the landlady.

“Sorry, only got bitter“. I have the bitter. I guess if Stafford’s Bass flagship can’t get then Ancoats has no chance.

I didn’t mind. Johnny Mathis handed over the Christmas baton to Michael and siblings, and I was in a Happy Pub (look for the special symbol in the GBG).

Since you press me I’m fairly sure it was Boddies, as it was £3 a pint, and it was OK, it was OK.

From the window you can see The Castle Hotel, which has better cask but worse music.

That was enough fun for me, but as an extra special quiz you can work out where the lasagne was.

*Obviously those weren’t his EXACT words