February 2025. Four Go Mad In Stockport Part VIII (or is it IX ?).
Foodie Friday in Stockport market place draws folk out from Manchester’s southern suburbs in huge numbers.
Mainly young folk, it has to be said. “But the youngsters don’t go to pubs and talk to each other out anymore” screams the burning wreck of our press. Oh yes they do. It’s the Oldies who sit at home and rant on Discourse about commas.
It’s the kids running the food carts, too, cooking up woke salads like my tea;
Well, there’s a gherkin in it somewhere.
I’ve seen old folk complain that Foodie Friday is TOO busy, but it didn’t seem to have stopped the pubs being packed that night. I slipped out of the crowd to try, for a third time that day, to get a seat in the Arden Arms.
Twice at lunchtime we’d been told there was no room in the house, not even for a quick pint, and definitely not in the snug behind the bar.
And still packed approaching 7, so I pounced on a spare seat on an occupied table next to a lovely chap with two (2) pints of Old Tom.
In my experience blokes with two (2) pints of Old Tom in front of them are the very best of men.
He swapped places with me so I could invite Mrs RM and the Blackpool posse, lost in the market place, to join me.
The phone call went something like;
“I’m in the Arden. Come and join me”
“Who ?”
“The Arden Arms, where we tried at lunch. On the right”
“Where are you ?”
“The Arden. Get a pint of Old Tom”
And she did. Look at the adoring way she looks at me, as is her spousal duty on any day other that International Women’s Day*.
Hang on. She’s not looking at me, is she ?
Suddenly the Arden, free of its foodie dominance, made perfect sense. Bench seats, cool cask**, conversation flowing on all sides, some of it more palatable than others. That’s pubs for you.
Right, one more before we wimp out for the night…
*Am trying for another BlueSky ban
**Actually, not quite as cool and gorgeous as previously, but good enough
retiredmartin 