retiredmartin

If you’re wondering where “Half a dozen pubs…” has got to, the next edition is Staffordshire, the toughest so far, and I’m absolutely terrified of upsetting Stafford Paul so I’m planning to be in hiding for a few days after that post comes out later.

Before that, the second in my award winning Pub Revisit series, and an example of expert pubgoing between trains, as I do the Wigan rail station hop in reverse.

I arrive back from Prescot at 17:02, the train to Victoria departs across at Wallgate 15 minutes later.

Only one option, then;

When I suggested Half a Dozen Pubs in Greater Manchester last week I picked the Bass pub over the road,

which no-one could really object to but left Wigan Central devotees a bit miffed.

This is a corker of a micropub, adapted for station users with live train info, a Pub of the Year finalist blah blah blah.

And both rooms are absolutely packed. So busy that by the time I reach the bar it’s 17:07 and I’m looking at a 2 minute half.

So obviously I say “Pint of Jarl please” don’t I ?

There’s nowhere inside to sit,

so I perch it on the ledge for a minute,

admire the decor,

then take it to the outside tables to join the lone smoker.

And while I know you lot don’t believe everything I say, that cool, chewy, Jarl is close to perfect (NBSS 4.5); far better than the Jarl in the wonderful Laurieston. Cask volumes may be plummeting, but cask quality is at an all-time high (IMHO).

An hour later I meet Matt yards from his Piccadilly flat in Squawk’s tap.

Matt has their keg stout. I’m afraid I have a quick half of Pastore out of loyalty to Waterbeach. Matt is surprised to hear of Squawk’s impending demise, as am I. Quality is no guarantee of survival in 2024.