retiredmartin

April 2026. Manchester.

Quite a contrast between the central squares in Tyldesley,

and Manchester, where I find Mrs RM in the art gallery. Well, the cafe.

She tells me the city looks gorgeous in the sun, the flashy high rise complementing the Victorian heritage, so I’m not alone in that view.

Opposite the Town Hall the Founders is heaving at 3pm on Maundy Thursday;

my son tells me it’s the end of the tax year they’re celebrating, the office workers spilling into the pubs.

Matthew started his barbering career nearby in Lincoln Square, where the eponymous office complex has acquired a Thai place we’re meeting Blackpool Jane later, on a night we’ll meet all the stars.

“What’s the Rising Sun like ?” asks Mrs RM, admiring the way the old boozers integrate seamlessly with the offices.

Not a pub I can tell you anything about, Matt says “a United pub” with derision.

One of Punch’s good value, sport-driven Unity Socials, the brand website containing a single image.

I’m surprised it has cask;

even more so that the Wainwright is perfectly drinkable (NBSS 3), so much so that Mrs RM drinks it.

A long pub, the back door will lead you to the rather more celebrated Nag’s Head, the Rising Sun is comfy and charmingly decorated and if you lived in, ooh, Minneapolis or Chicago you’d probably be quite happy and you’d wear your CAMRA polo shirt and see if you couldn’t get them to add a range of half a dozen constantly changing indie beers.

A bit blokey, but Mrs RM felt perfectly comfortable, just as she would in the Hare & Hounds. Wet Wet Wet and Eurythmics your predictably ’80s soundtrack.

After two rapid pints in Tyldesley I’d switched to Heineken 0.0. Look out for my podcast on sensible drinking.

Not sure how sensible the poppadoms were, but that gooey mango chutney dip is irresistible.