A bit of a confessional tonight (don’t worry, not in a Patrice Evra way). After finishing Lancashire near Clitheroe I toyed with the idea of stopping for the night at the Red Pump. But it was a) £65 a night, b) about to close its bar at 8pm. And the Premier Inn at Preston central… Continue reading A PRESTON PRE-EMPTIVE
Author: retiredmartin
THE SUN SETS ON LANCASHIRE GBG FOR ANOTHER YEAR
Ah, bucolic Bowland, favourite of Her Majesty AND me. We also share a love for Doom Bar and errant sons, I believe. Here’s some drone photography of Lancashire for you; see if you can spot the areas in enhanced lockdown (no exchange of bodily fluids allowed after 18:45 Mon to Wed, 20:45, Thr to Sun).… Continue reading THE SUN SETS ON LANCASHIRE GBG FOR ANOTHER YEAR
WELCOME TO MANCHESTER
Back up North (A1/M62/M602) on Wednesday night before a day of Moving Matt to Manchester. Yes, the day after we’d moved the entire Salford flat, giant snails and all, into storage* on Ashton Old Road, Matt and mates belatedly had the keys to the city. One last walk round the office blocks of Exchange Quay,… Continue reading WELCOME TO MANCHESTER
“Who’s your favourite revolutionary ?”
Between moving Matt’s tat into storage and then out to Ancoats I popped back on Wednesday to take my Dad for an X-Ray at Addenbrookes and my Aygo to Newmarket Road for its M.O.T. One of these days I’ll get those things mixed up, with disastrous consequences. With the Aygo at Cambridge Vehicle Services all… Continue reading “Who’s your favourite revolutionary ?”
THE QUEUE FOR A HOLLAND’S PIE
Just to prove I’m a cultured creature, I now head deep into West Lancashire for a Holland’s steak pie and a pint of Bank Top Mild. Eccleston blotted it’s copy book by claiming as its own a Belgian biker who won a race round Box Hill at the 2012 Olympics. Tidy little place, nice northern… Continue reading THE QUEUE FOR A HOLLAND’S PIE
BUSTLING BURSCOUGH
This has been a tiring week of travel, and it’s not often I say that. Two trips to Manchester, a dozen journeys taking Matt and his precious possessions between Salford, a storage depot on Ashton Old Road, and his new house in Ancoats. He’s looking worse for wear too. But he’s moved now, so no… Continue reading BUSTLING BURSCOUGH
THE TEMPLE OF CONVENIENCE
“You haven’t really done Manchester till you’ve done the Temple of Convenience” said no-one ever. I’d never. But these Young People know how to have a good time, and insisted we finish our Freshers’ crawl in a converted public toilet. Frankly, if the Temple can re-open during Covid, anywhere can. Eight of us in, unless… Continue reading THE TEMPLE OF CONVENIENCE
FRESHERS
I hadn’t realised I was in the middle of Freshers Week. For a start, Freshers Week had apparently been “cancelled” for some woke transgression or other. But then, who believes a word that Sky News (or the BBC) says. Best get all your news off BRAPA, I reckon. Matt and his flatmates had just had… Continue reading FRESHERS
YES ! MANCHESTER
You left me at Salford Quays, downing a short pint of IPA in 60 seconds so I could catch the tram. In a dramatic demonstration of the evils of drink, I bought my ticket but momentarily failed to apply my mask before leaping through the doors, raising the R rate by 0.00000271 in the process.… Continue reading YES ! MANCHESTER
“SINK THAT PINT LAD”
If ever there was A Year To Be Generous To Your Children (they pick your care home), then I guess 2020 is it. Not that moving Matt and his flatmates’ stuff from Salford Quays to a giant metal box (not the Public Image Ltd. one) on Ashton Old Road in six goes was FUN. Here’s… Continue reading “SINK THAT PINT LAD”