Sunday is the new Thursday I was told some time ago. I can’t remember what that makes Thursday, but it’s a good excuse for a trip into Manchester. The WHB had decided to cut loose and, in that mood, only the city centre can hold him. As the new brolly hadn’t even survived the journey to the first pub yesterday, I had to venture out unsheltered. But, never mind, the weather was lovely in Bury, so no need to worry then.
What a difference 9 miles makes. It was absolutely pouring in the centre of Manchester. Needless to say, I got soaked. We met at the now very-vogue Angel, where only a handful of drinkers were taking advantage of Sunday imbibing. We tried both the Dunham Massey and Pictish Little Gem. The Pictish was a pale 4.5% beer brewed with Bramling Cross hops which imparted a the slightest of bitter finishes. Both were in good condition, with the Pictish being particularly lively.
Our next stop was, inevitably, the Marble Arch. Once here, it’s always difficult to shift the WHB. The combination of beer and women usually proves too much. It was pretty full when we arrived, with diners chancing their arm with the unpredictable food. Unusually the beer choice wasn’t very appealing. A lot of strong beers dominated the bar. Where were the summer quaffing beers? Gone along with the sunshine, it appears. I tried a Coastal and Abbeydale Steel Hammer, both of which were underwhelming.
And then a moment of madness. Before falling back on the tried and tested Marble range, I decided to sample Chateau Leyden. This strong brew has already gathered a reputation as being the worst Leyden beer ever. And that’s saying something. But I can never have imagined in my wildest nightmares just how bad it was. An overpowering stench of rotten eggs and raw fertiliser greeted my nostrils. The smell actually made me nauseous. Holding my nose I attempted to drink some, but unfortunately it tasted like it smelt and for a moment I thought it was coming back up. Luckily (or unluckily) my stomach managed to hold firm but there was no way that half was being drunk. Easily the worst beer of the year, and straight into the top ten of all time.
After the Leyden horror, I played safe with Janine’s One until we called it a day. The tram then took us back towards Bury-the WHB getting off in the jungle of Prestwich, whilst I continued on to enjoy the delights of Sunday evening in the Trackside.