retiredmartin

January 2026. Bradford.

2.9 miles in 37 minutes from the Crown down to the Alhambra, and a sorry tale of pub death awaits, despite a year as the UK’s Capital of Culture (and it IS a cultural giant).

This is the extract from CAMRA’s marvellous pub guide showing the area west of the ring road. Note the grey “P“s.

Fourteen (14) pubs, thirteen of them closed, and just one survivor according to CAMRA;

Honest. Look at these opening times;

That must be a micropub. Actually, I see no evidence at all that Flares has survived the cull of the Morley Street “fun” circuit.

Thank goodness there’s still curry in Bradford. Sadly, the best places (International, Sheesh Mahal) round here don’t open till later, so it’s back to the Kashmir, a Curryheute Guide perennial.

Last time here I was the only customer; 3 years later (at 3pm on a Monday in January) there’s a couple of gentlefolk and two younger mates popping in for what is a slice of proper Bratfud.

Just as people follow my every recommendation on pubs and young American songstresses, so I tend to follow Curryheute’s steer and order the Aloo Gosht with too many chapattis, which sadly is not as healthy as it sounds despite the presence of potatoes.

It’s my idea of curry heaven, the equivalent of an NBSS 4 pint of Tetley, and it came within 5 minutes of sitting down (and ordering in the same motion). Unlike Curryheute, I didn’t get free poppadoms, but for £10.80 all in I can’t complain.

It’s hard to leave the Kashmir in a hurry with curry in your tummy, as I have found out to my cost in the past. So I spent a leisurely hour in the revitalised Media Museum, genuinely one of the world’s great museums (and I’ve been to Southport’s Lawnmower exhibition).

The Kodak gallery is particularly brilliant, there’s a chance to create your own avatar (I was a rabbit, obvs),

and the science galleries pick a visitor at random to be absorbed into the internet or something.

Look, the extent of my science knowledge is Grade 4 Physics CSE, which equates to knowing thatb H20 isn’t just a Hall & Oates album.

Oooh, 2 minutes to 4, my train goes in 10.

I’ll be back for the Turner Prize exhibits, and more curry.