retiredmartin

November 2024. Manchester.

Last Tuesday saw ward C4 still under quarantine due to an infection outbreak, and Mum no closer to a discharge, honourable or otherwise, from Addenbrookes.

I took my opportunity; driving back to Sheffield to check the house was still there, turning the boiler back on, doing a round of laundry, then hopped on the first train to Manchester.

Three wishes on a rare day off. Haircut, a trip to the Etihad for a City win, a great Mancunian pub.

Only City would let me down.

2 months since my last cut from Matt, at Helvete opposite the Chinese Arch.

Chinatown only comes alive after dark, which due to Brexit/Trump/Labour now kicks in at 4pm.

The Grey Horse is your first pub leaving Helvete;

Matt had never been, I hadn’t popped in since Matthew Curtis launched the Manc beer book so I “needed” it. It’s odd to be ticking such familiar pubs, though searching my own blog confirms that last visit was nearly six (6) years ago !

Has it changed ?

Obviously not. The same symphony in brown, the same City and United prints above the bench seats.

Perhaps Hydes have modernised the pump clips, not too disastrously though,

and those pints look, and drink perfectly.

“That was eight pounds sixty-five, Matt” I whisper.

Matt confirms he’s used to paying over eight quid for Guinness.

“No, for both pints”. Matt is awestruck.

Mixed crowd, cool pint of Ruby Mild (3.5), eclectic soundtrack.

Talking of “Fashun”, Matt how now acquired one of those German porn star moustaches.

Suits him.

I could have sat there all evening watching yellow buses along Portland Street,

but Manchester never stands still, and nor must we.