retiredmartin

May 2025. Reddish. Greater Stockport.

Actually I’m not sure if Reddish really is in Greater Stockport, nor do I really care. Its GBG entries are picked by S&SM CAMRA, and that’s all that counts.

Reddish Ale was both new in the Guide and in Matthew Curtis’s essential Manc beer book.

Frankly I couldn’t tell you much about the place beyond a pleasant country park, a Beartown pub near the motorway, and, er, that’s it.

Jane had done her homework to identify the 203, a 30 minute journey along the well-trodden Hyde Road before a sharp turn into suburbia.

There’s a parliamentary rail stop (Saturday only) close by, but like most things parliamentary it’s of no use whatsoever.

Look, we were barely there 2 hours and barely left the pubs, but I can’t pretend Reddish enthralled me.

Think of it as you’d think of Chapeltown on the edge of Sheffield; solid and liveable.

Our target is literally across from the main Holdsworth stop, and Mrs RM and Jane compete to see who can secure the best table. It’s a draw.

I thought Reddish Ale was wonderful, from the appeal for information on a lost tortoise, to the eclectic vinyl soundtrack,

to a tight but impressive cask/keg/fridge line-up, the Rivington and Burton Bridge both NBSS 3.5.

You’ll guess who hit the cans.

More community small pub than craft bar, the high point was a simple little food menu,

fresh interesting food making a change from the usual.

Chatty staff and locals, none of whom would take responsibility for the music choices.

After a taster of Jane’s dregs I would have stayed for an unwise can of the Imperial Stout,

but just in time remembered those wise words from the Grange Hill Gang in 1986.