“We never win at home and we never win away…”

Still 90 minutes till the late kick-off at the Etihad; the weather in Manchester had improved since I’d arrived (funny that) as I left the Lass O’ Gowrie for student-land. There are approximately 37,577 different routes to take to get to the Etihad, and I chose the one that went past the famous Vimto statue.… Continue reading “We never win at home and we never win away…”

PSG ARE IN TOWN. I’M IN SWINTON.

I stayed in Manchester (well, Eccles) on Wednesday night, the night that Messi, Neymar and Mbappé came to town. But I didn’t watch City put the moneybags French in their place, instead letting Matt and James have the two tickets my season ticket allows me. I’ve seen Messi three times anyway, and I’d rather have… Continue reading PSG ARE IN TOWN. I’M IN SWINTON.

STILL NO REAL ALE AT THE ETIHAD

In the days before the Americans started complaining that this posts weren’t long enough, I could get away with 200 word commentary pieces, like this one on beer at the Etihad. 65 views over nearly six years, that’s a Chris Tavare of a post, that is. Nothing has changed since then; it’s still Amstel (in… Continue reading STILL NO REAL ALE AT THE ETIHAD

CASK IN ANCOATS, CACK AT THE ETIHAD

Am I allowed to use the word “cack” ?  My mum says cack-handed, so must be OK. Into Manchester, having narrowly avoided being lynched for missing the second “k” out of Kirkby Lonsdale (thanks Russ). Or more properly, into Salford, where I was spending a night in romantic Weaste. Never been before, a semi-mythical place… Continue reading CASK IN ANCOATS, CACK AT THE ETIHAD