We arrived back in Manchester from Malaga just after 20:00. I’d once again saved £9 by not sitting with Mrs RM. She said she’d have paid £90 not to sit with me.
Despite it taking 15 minutes for Mrs RM to disembark the plane, and 10 to clear passport control, we actually made the Welsh train just about to leave for Piccadilly, and but for dropping us at Platform 14 rather than 5 we might have been home by 22:30.
Instead we had nearly an hour till the 21:41.
Just enough time to meet Matt, who actually seemed pleased to see us, and get my first pint of cask in 12 days in the Piccadilly Tap.
Where else can you meet people apart from a pub? Primary was closed by then.
The Tap’s fortunes have seemingly waxed and waned like a Cocteau Twins deep cut since it opened.
Still a decent cask range, stuff you might have heard of, though sadly no Plum Porter.
Mrs RM and Matt took the upstairs table, leaving me to the key decisions.
Brass Castle, Roosters and Deya (all pints, we’re not savages).
If you want the very definition of NBSS 3. Tasty and cool enough, just lacking the crispness of a City Arms or Cask.
But never mind the beer. The Tap was packed, Bitburger imbibing youngsters playing pool and getting pizza delivered upstairs.
It felt like a pub. And after 10 days of bars, you can tell the difference.