retiredmartin

June 2025. Macclesfield.

Less tickin’, more talkin’. That’s the story of my pub life post GBG completion.

And that’s how it should be. The shy Unretired Martin of 40 years ago is now a social creature seeking out company on pub crawls to discuss hopping rates, CAMRA regional reviews, and the correct spelling of Church End Goats’ Milk.

So I was delighted to join the two Mudg(i)es of Stafford and Stockport, and youngster Jon from That Frome, on our regular Macclesfield meander.

A modest little route based around Sunderland Street, with one (temporary) closure at the wonderful Jolly Sailor hopefully compensated by a newbie across the road.

The sun shines on the righteous, but rarely on Macclesfield, so let it be recorded this was a glorious day.

And a modest one, barely a mile’s walk, so I added a cultural hour before the Macc Lads kicked off at the Waters Green Tavern.

Those 108 steps up to St Michaels & All Angels get no less steep,

but your reward is a sturdy Anglican church with views to the Peak Forest,

sturdy exterior,

a neat cafe and a lot of tombstones.

Macclesfield houses the remains of its most famous son, Ian Curtis dominating your view at the foot of the main drag.

It’s a town you expect to look smarter than it is, but despite the arrival of Gail’s (the Brunning and Price of bakeries) this is not a posh town. Never was, says Mrs RM, who did a stint consulting at the local Building Society.

My video comes from outside Savers, a touching Asian rendition of “The Old Rugged Cross“.

But before you start thinking this post is all about death, I can assure you our pub crawl started with a burst of life as Mr Mudge bounded through the door of the Waters Green at 11:58. How does he always get in early.

What a gorgeous pub, fantastic seating ideal for chat, and a soundtrack of “Rock the boat“.

I wish the beer had been as sparkling, the Jarl clinging firmly to the 2.5 you get here.

But, no, that’s not Pub Curmudgeon about to a tip in the flowers.