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Manchester, United Kingdom
Tyson is a beer hound and cheese addict living in the beery metropolis paradise known as Manchester
If the people are buying tears, I'll be rich someday, Ma

Wednesday, 25 November 2009

York

Saturday saw us take a little tour of York, exactly one year after our last visit. This time, Eddie, the eager, legal beagle was under strict orders to keep his walking pace to sub warp out of respect for the elderlies in our group. Mind you, when the rain started coming down, there was no time for dawdling. Now everyone knows solicitors bring bad luck, but Eddie is actually known to the people of Eboracum as the “Rainmaker”, such is his habit of bringing bad weather to the city.

As per last time, the Rook & Gaskill and the Waggon & Horses were good, albeit quiet due to their location at the outskirts of the city and it being early afternoon. Not unexpectedly the nearer the Minster, the busier the pubs get and we were lucky to get a table in the Guy Fawkes. This is a historic inn and whether or not it really is the birthplace of Guy Fawkes, it certainly has a lot of atmosphere and a very promising menu.

Another interesting diversion was Pivo. This bills itself as a “world pub” and although we enjoyed its foreign offerings, it was somewhat surprising to find it had no cask available on a busy Saturday afternoon. Travelling back first class kept us comfy and out of the way of the Yorkshire chavs, although the guy sat opposite Eddie was definitely one Penny Black shy of a full stamp collection.

A nightcap in the Trackside was called for and Eddie insisted I couldn’t leave until we had made our way through the German collection. There were still some beers left from the recent Oktoberfest celebrations, including Flying Dog’s Dogtoberfest. This was amber coloured and had a caramel sweetness that, surprisingly, wasn’t unpleasant. With the beer flowing and the staff being very efficient and accommodating –you could tell the gaffer wasn’t there (joke)-we happily saw in the witching hour waiting for fresh drinking companions.

But time and bar staff wait for no one, so eventually we set off to find Don Ricardo. Drawing a blank we resorted to old fashioned methods-the telephone. A few rings later he confirmed that not only had he left the vicinity, but that he was in fact tucked up in bed. Honestly, you just can’t get the staff these days.

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