retiredmartin

April 2026. Salford.

Greater Manchester’s pubs complete, I headed back to Wigan Wallgate, ignoring the lure of the Bass in the Swan & Railway,

and joining a group of bewildered young women on a train heading to Todmorden via Victoria.

“Where’s Todmorden ?“

“Never heard of it !“

“Somewhere near Blackburn ?“

What do they teach in Geography these days ?

Most southerners (everyone below Stoke) can’t tell Salford apart from Manchester, and to be honest it’s a hard place to get to grips with. I wandered aimlessly over the Irwell,

had an excellent burger at Ohannes near the Audacious Church,

and marvelled, a bit, at all the high rise dwarfing the Eagle in Colliers Yard.

Not everyone likes the Mancunian/Salfordian urban sprawl, but folk living in city centres will keep pubs like the Eagle and the Peveril and the Briton in business more than outrage on Discourse.

A bit of street art by the bridge,

and a look at the teeming mass of humanity in Shambles Square,

which Nadia Reid herself couldn’t quite believe, and she lives in Manchester these days.

A low-key gig at the Halle’s rehearsal rooms at St Michael’s Church in Ancoats was a joy, right up until the trains seemed to stop running back to Sheffield, and I called it quits after hearing this;

I’m not sure I have ever been able to stay to the end of a gig in Manchester, you know.