April 2025. Bolton.
Blackpool Jane had expertly curated a pub crawl tour of Bolton’s artisanal public houses, expertly blending GBG entries with heritage pubs,
and a visit to the closest bar to Fred Dibnah‘s house.
Fred has the sort of adulation in this country reserved for national heroes like Bobby Charlton, the Queen Mum and BRAPA.
I’m not sure I quite get the appeal of a bloke who knocked down old chimneys; it’s obviously A Northern Thing.
I was more intrigued by a return to GBG occasional the Ukrainian Club,
a solid social club without Ukrainian beers but with a strong community focus and a high quality pint of Bank Top Port O’ Call (NBSS 4) in the sunshine.
Worth supporting for the cask as well as the obvious reasons.
Jane got her shot of Fred’s gorgeous family home,
and we headed back into town via the tight back streets.
I believe that a pair of trainers abandoned in the street is used to ward off evil spirits and Wigan fans.
Suddenly, Bolton started to look magical;
as long as you only look at the top half of that photo.
retiredmartin 
The last person who stood on that window cill – as seems to be a thing in Bolton – was asked to remove his trainers by the householder.
The question, as to whether he lived to reclaim them, would seem to be moot.
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Heck of a pub man was Fred by all accounts, would have made a fine companion for a Big Day Out.
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The Paul Mudge of his day. Probably overdressed compared to Paul.
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