February 2026. Timperley. Greater Manchester.
On Saturday I dropped Mrs RM off at Manchester Airport after an exciting trip through Wynatt’s Pass and less absorbing trek along the A555, which let me tell you in no A57.
Mrs RM was off on another planet-killing trip with a very famous pub blogger, but it wasn’t me (no spoilers !), as I had more important work to attend to.
A 20 minute metro hop on the posh Manc line brings you from Piccadilly to Timperley, for the first time on this blog.
To say I was shaking with excitement would be a gross understatement.
Chat GPT listened attentively to my request for “essential Timperley”, and suggested, well, not a lot. “A 3-5 minute walk from the metro to the one unmissable sight“, it says. But Chat GPT clearly has duff info; it probably gets the facts off my blog.
It’s 20 minutes of dull suburbia along Park Road from metro to village centre,
but I like dull suburbia, particularly interspersed with a bit of unloved community garden,
and spiky Holy Cross church (“good for teddy bears picnic” – Google).
At the crossroads you get a Greene King pub gearing up for Rugby Union (ugh),
a betting shop, Costa and “Street Food“, which turns out to be a spectacularly unfussy little (3 tables) Asian cafe,
where the Hot & Sour Beef is as lethally spicy as you could wish,
and I spend 20 minutes wondering whether I should eat the plums in the jasmine tea (YES, but not the stones, idiot). Superb value, too.
“I’ll come back” I tell the Chinese owner, but I really won’t, unless the Stonemasons Arms gets in the Guide, and these days who can tell ?
Oh, there he is;
Timperley has a rich musical history, the Stone Roses (no, me neither) have roots here, but you’ll know it for Frank Sidebottom (above) and his mate Chris Sievey, whose John Peel favourite remains a classic.
But what of the pubs ? I knew you’d ask.
retiredmartin 
“TO BE FRANK, TIMPERLEY IS A CURATE’S EGG”
To be frank, I can’t unpack the Babuska doll-like nested egg thingy that is the pic above.
(looks down)
Ah. Though, to be honest, that still doesn’t help. 😏
“and less absorbing trek along the A555, which let me tell you in no A57.”
Pfft. Yes, yes but… how does it compare to the A514?
“Mrs RM was off on another planet-killing trip with a very famous pub blogger, but it wasn’t me (no spoilers !)”
We can wait.
“A 20 minute metro hop on the posh Manc line brings you from Piccadilly to Timperley,”
(looks down)’
Is that the same transit map that can’t tell its East from its West?
“To say I was shaking with excitement would be a gross understatement.”
To say that I believe you would be… lying. 😉
“But Chat GPT clearly has duff info; it probably gets the facts off my blog.”
(slow golf clap)
Although, to be fair, that was Copilot; but I’m sure they all swap notes. 😎
“but I like dull suburbia, particularly interspersed with a bit of unloved community garden,”
It has to be unloved, in order to keep up the dull appearances.
“and spiky Holy Cross church (“good for teddy bears picnic” – Google).”
That must be the UK Google. It doesn’t say that over here.
“and “Street Food“, which turns out to be a spectacularly unfussy little (3 tables) Asian cafe”
(looks down)
Is the menu item that’s completely yellow Chef’s Surprise?
“where the Hot & Sour Beef is as lethally spicy as you could wish,”
But no pint to wash it down!
“and these days who can tell ?”
Indeed. And that is why we wake every day in absolute wonder. 😁
“but you’ll know it for Frank Sidebottom (above) and his mate Chris Sievey”
To be frank, I didn’t until know, but that explains that odd photo at the top.
“whose John Peel favourite remains a classic.”
That’s a bit like the Bonzo Dog Band.
“But what of the pubs ? I knew you’d ask.”
Nah. We were waiting patiently, just like we’re doing with Mrs RM’s mystery famous pub blogger. 🤗
Cheers
LikeLike
RM unleashed. What majestic events lay in our future?
LikeLike