retiredmartin

January 2024 (though I fear I’ll be writing 2023 till at least the 12th so good job we don’t use cheques anymore). Chorley.

I very nearly skipped the Flat Iron, as it used to be the Market Tavern, and professional tickers would consider it poor form to revisit a pub just because it had changed name.

But their Facebook said “stands where the Market Tavern used to be“, suggesting a rebuild I didn’t spot inside, and if the bar had been moved even half a foot the tickers would need to revisit it, so what the heck, as Olivia Rodrigo famously sang.

I still love crossing the threshold of a pub, wandering what to expect.

Open plan, bright and cheery, TV sport, Old Boys on high seats and low benches.

I thought the soundtrack might be a bit modern for the punters;

but then I realised they were all in their 20s when the Manics and Oasis and the Stone Roses were at their peak.

Ooh, look at those shiny handpumps.

I expected Cross Bay and Lancaster, the “value” (no offence, great beers) North-Western brands, but Jarl ? And Blackedge ?

“Are you a CAMRA member ?” Unlike Peter, I couldn’t deny the fact.

“Two pounds thirty please“

“TWO pounds thirty ? Blimey“. A chap on the seat next to me cursed his luck that he wasn’t a CAMRA, though I expect Life Membership may have been a duff deal.

The barmaid, one of the gems of the year, said “I know, it’s because we sell so much” and returned to pleasing banter with the Old Boys.

That Blackedge seasonal was stunningly rich, malty and chewy, NBSS 3.5 at least.

Loads of cask being served at 12:30 on the first Friday of the new year, even with Strongbow at £2 (no CAMRA discount).

I thought it might be a bit “blokey”,

but some husbands and wives came in and the atmosphere was SO jolly that I almost stayed for a Citra,

But no, my third (or second, depending on your inclination) GBG tick was about to open, and this was the time for sensible drinking.

I thought.