retiredmartin

March 2024. Rochdale.

Enough of pubs, let’s return to northern England’s architectural heritage.

OK, and some pubs with Blackpool Jane, in “Remarkable Rochdale” (the TIC can have that in exchanged for a rag pudding).

I nearly never made it, after a near fatal flesh wound caused by taking Roberta Flack’s classic album out of its sleeve.

Someone on Twitter suggested I sue Roberta, but this is not America, and I suffered in silence.

The trains between Sheffield and Manchester across the Peak weren’t running (hardly news), so we became Rochdale’s first non-football tourists since Cyril Smith hosted a blind tasting of Webster’s Yorkshire bitters in 1997.

Broadfield Park hotel was clearly the town’s flagship at one point, but had fallen on hard times reading Booking.com reviews that probably accounted for it’s bargain midweek pricing.

£48, so not a bargain if you’re Stafford Paul, even with breakfast to come.

A work in progress under new ownership, but a clean room in impressive surroundings,

only 2 minutes walk through the attractive park to the town centre.

Last time here the Grade I listed Town Hall was under scaffolding,

and there’s still a bit of ongoing work,

but the interior has just reopened with the council dispatched to a modern building, leaving locals and the occasional tourist to enjoy one of the most stunning buildings in the UK.

No, honest, it is. Mrs RM said “Wow”.

Downstairs is a bit of a local history exhibition;

I think that’s the 1974 CAMRA Pub of the Year trophy.

The mayoral rooms remind you of a 1970s parlour pub in Carmarthenshire,

the upstairs hall, available for weddings, beer festivals, Tarot readings,

is the equal of anything you’ll find in National Trust hands.

The pop-up cafe has better cakes than the NT, too.

All it lacked was a random organist playing “Killing Me Softly”.

Astonishing.