You left me in St Neots, making sure young Si was heading in the right direction over the bridge. Two and a bit hours later I was in the curry capital of the world. No, I didn’t start at the Punjab Sweet House and then top up my curry at the Fighting Cock. That way… Continue reading A QUIET NIGHT IN BRADFORD
Another tricky post, as I find myself having to praise That Leeds, something an (honorary) Mancunian hates to do almost as much as taking a coach trip round Anfield. I was there the other Sunday to see Phosphorescent at the Brudenell, enjoying the £35 rates you get at Accor hotels before the suits and… Continue reading THAT LEEDS
Only five photos from Oscars in Morley, and not a lot of cultural context to bring you about a proper old market town in Greater Leeds. After a week ferrying BRAPA and Pubmeister to their pubs I fear may be turning into a ticking machine. I’m sure there’s more attractive buildings in Morley, but… Continue reading MORISH MORLEY MICROS
The last post from “New Bradford”, and the sort of pub that makes you want to book an Ibis Budget room for an immediate return trip. A short hop uphill (by Cambridge standards) to the Peacock Bar, with stops to search through McDonalds dustbins reflect on the majesty of Bradford architecture. The Peacock looks a… Continue reading SAMOSAS UNDER THE WHITE ROSE
As Dave said on the last post, Bradford is a delightful surprise, particularly for anyone whose view of the place is formed by biased BBC reports or “Notes From A Small Island“. Dick and Dave were, no doubt, thrilled by the stately but scarred architecture and quaint gift shops. The walk from Pub 1… Continue reading SUNBRIDGE WELLS
Believe me or not, but this punishing 3 posts-a-day routine is paying off, and I might even catch up this week, if I can even remember why Dick took back those two pints in Leeds. Before Leeds, Harrogate. (Slightly) overrated by retired gentlefolk and cake lovers, underrated by folk who like good beer. While I… Continue reading HOOVERING UP HARROGATE TICKS
My journey back from Manchester was enlivened by news reports on the craze sweeping the country (i.e. the South) for grown men to dress up as dogs. My only comment is that you can’t possibly drink a pint of Bass wearing that outfit. The debate (what is there to debate ?) brought to mind my… Continue reading HARTSHEAD – PUB OR KENNEL ?