retiredmartin

October 2024. Droylesden.

“Fancy a cut tomorrow before the City game ?” asks Matthew. Such a nice lad.

Well, if your children won’t take you to the pub I guess a monthly haircut is second best.

An 11am slot gives me time for a pint or two before the Etihad. Very few new entries anywhere near the centre,

so I take the tram out east to “Delightful Droyslden“, as no-one has called it, ever.

As ever, a look at the demographics show the boom and bust of a Lancashire mill town in the 20th century.

Last time here, 5 years ago, we saw small bar “Silly Country” debut, and now across the road it’s the Snug, a micro in a former charity shop.

20 steps from the tram stop, I hear a bloke on the tram pushing a pram tell his mate to open the Snug door for him, and bound ahead to do the honours, but he’s only collecting his ticket for the City match.

If we didn’t have pubs, where would people meet ? I’m sure I’ve said that before you, know.

You’d never know it’s only been a pub a year, what a gorgeous transformation.

Still largely a Madri crowd, mind, and just Castle Rock Preservation (a rich NBSS 3+) on after the local one went off, and an atmosphere that would have been completely alien to the fellows of an unnamed Generating Board Committee.

A prime example of how small bars/micros have changed since they were invented in the middle ages 2005. Keg Boddingtons, lager over cask, music at good volume, blokes on stools sing along to The Killers.

“He doesn’t look a bit like……Jeeeesus” he sings, better than Brandon did at Manchester Co-op Live, probably.

I nearly stayed for a second, no point getting to the Etihad and drinking Asahi, but then I thought…

…ooooh, what’s along the A662 ?