retiredmartin

May 2026. Stockport.

Having a son living in Stockport presents a challenge; will I impose on him to put me up in his spare room after a night out in Manchester ?

In honesty, I’m grateful our two lads still seem to want to meet their ancient parents so often and I wouldn’t want to push my luck, unless a cancelled last train home after the Julia Jacklin gig next year leaves me stranded.

I expect I’ll be popping over to Stockport even more often than normal, there’s been more new bar openings in that market place than in Sheffield and I need to help Emma “get into beer”.

Back from the Etihad the other Sunday I took the Edgeley exit to a pub Emma might like almost as much as the Crown.

This was the pub that introduced me to Stocky’s pub gems a quarter century ago, it’s probably where I read the first Pub Curmudgeon column in Opening Times, and it’s where I had a calm pint after City won the league in 2012.

It’s also home to some of the nicest, and sharply humorous, folk I’ve ever met in a pub. My note says “Dry slap with a wet kipper“.

Like me, the Vic was a bit subdued; County had just lost the play-off final at Wembley (next year lads) and the early evening trade was outside in the sun.

That 3.4% Three Acres pale was particularly good for the strength and a lot more resilient to the Stocky heatwave than some of us.

BIG bonus, I shazammed a track with a lone shazam. There must be a word for that.

15 minutes in the Vic and my almost customary Last Lagoon takeaway was ready.

We hadn’t eaten since an Asda cheese roll at lunchtime, so Mrs RM and I devoured nearly all of it, including what looked like a whole leg of lamb in that Kacchi Ghosht. Tremendous stuff.

Last Monsoon, but possibly our last stay at that Travelodge after the mess we made (see also : Preston Premier Inn and Mick’s Hut).