Belatedly, here are some notes on Mild Magic 2024, Stockport and South Manchester CAMRA’s annual celebration & promotion of mild.
One of the pleasures of Mild Magic is planning proper trips out, whether to New Mills, Disley and Whaley Bridge or to Droylsden, Ashton and Stalybridge. I made four such trips this year, although by the time I started planning them I was in sight of my self-imposed 48-pub ceiling, so I ended up keeping them all fairly brief. They were all long enough to require sustenance, though; if you’re reading this shortly before a meal time, be warned, there will be pies.
The longest of the four was out to Salford and beyond. I got the train out to Patricroft, which is an area I’ve never been to before and, I’m afraid, probably won’t be hurrying back to in future. The Stanley Arms was a nice street corner boozer; sadly, the night before they had had a run on the Holt’s Mild, and it was off. The bartender gave me a sticker with my half of Joeys’ bitter and said she wouldn’t tell anyone if I didn’t; I assured her this wasn’t necessary. I got the bus to Eccles, where I’d heard the Lamb was closed. Not only was it closed, it appeared to be in the middle of being extensively renovated, inside and out. This left me with only one pub to visit: the Eccles Cross, the local Spoons. Here I was able to secure a half of mild; unfortunately it was Coach House Gunpowder Mild.
On the bus and on to Monton. Now, Eccles town centre certainly isn’t rough; it’s quite smart in comparison with Patricroft. Monton, while the map will tell you it’s a suburb of Eccles, is like another world – very much on the Deya side of the Holt’s/Deya continuum; it’s a bit like getting a bus in Northenden and getting off five minutes later in Hale Barns. The Park Hotel, a sprawling purpose-built single-storey building, is a Holt’s pub, but a really nice one; I had high hopes for the mild offering. Sadly, for the second time that day, the Holt’s Mild was off. I had a pint of Tower Ale, Holt’s collaboration with Everard’s and Hook Norton, and a nice pie to go with it. Then it was back on the bus – or two buses – to Swinton and the Morning Star. This was different again – the old Victorian townhouse style of pub. After a brief altercation with the bartender, who was under the impression that stickers were only available if you ordered the Mellow Mild, I repaired to the beer garden and settled down to enjoy a pint of the seemingly elusive Holt’s Mild. This lasted approximately two minutes, whereupon I casually asked Andy when my next bus was; I was shocked to find that I had approximately three minutes in hand (and not, as I had thought, 17). I knocked it back and got the bus, and in due course I was on the train back to Salford. This wasn’t the end of the afternoon, though, I finished at the New Oxford, where I had a perfectly decent half of Empire Moonraker and followed it with a very pleasant half of RedWillow Bock.
An all-day bus and train ticket was also involved when I went to Marple. For reasons I now forget – possibly to do with opening times – I started at the Norfolk Arms in Marple Bridge before doubling back to the Samuel Oldknow in Marple, then doubling back again and finishing up on the far side of Marple Bridge. The Norfolk Arms, disappointingly, had a firmly closed front door and no light showing in the windows. On further inspection this turned out to be because they don’t use the front door, or put very many lights on. If you know you know, I guess. This was a big and – once you got inside – surprisingly busy country pub, with a bit of an emphasis on dining. It’s also the only pub in all the 48 I visited where I struck out completely in terms of Mild Magic: there was no mild on the bar and the bartender couldn’t find any stickers, or indeed find anyone who knew about it. On the plus side, the Acorn Chocco Porter was rather good – not nearly as sweet as the name makes it sound.
Then on, or rather back, to the Samuel Oldknow, a small but friendly bar where I was rapidly drawn into the conversation about the enormous mystery object that had just been delivered to the bar’s loading bay (“The driver said to me, have you got a forklift?”), but decided to sit out the discussion of how someone on This Morning had said there were 54 genders (“Lesbian, that’s not one, is it?”). All human life is there. The selection on the bar wasn’t ticker-tastic – I had Titanic Mild and Stancill Flawless (a pale) – but the beer was in really good condition. It can make a huge difference when a beer’s kept well, even if it’s hard to put into words what it is.
The bus to… wherever it is you end up if you carry on up the hill out of Marple Bridge (Glossop? The Peaks? Rohan?)… got me to the Spring Gardens, whose muted decor reminded me of the motto of Tiffany’s in Purley in the 1970s – “A Nice Place for Nice People”. Sadly, the Marble Mild – and the Landlord I followed it with – hadn’t been terrifically well kept; they were fine, with no actual faults beyond a slight lack of condition, but a 3.0 felt generous. There was nobody in that afternoon but me, the bartender and the bartender’s teenage daughter, whom she was showing the ropes; I could hear that she was telling her how to pull a pint properly, which was good to hear. I was also on my own at the Northumberland Arms, a community-owned pub popularly known as the Thumb; in fact I was there when they unlocked the door, some time after three o’clock. This being the last pub of the day, it was a shame they didn’t really have anything I fancied for a second drink; still, the Titanic Mild was perfectly fine.
I couldn’t let Mild Magic go by without a trip to Stalybridge, if only for Bridge Beers and the Buffet Bar. However, I could afford to skip Clayton, Droylsden and even Ashton – not to mention skipping the White House, the Q Inn and the Society Rooms – and make a trip to Stalybridge that was only for Bridge Beers and the Buffet Bar. It doesn’t seem five minutes since I was last moaning about the “see what’s on the blackboard and then wait while I tell you which of them are actually on” system at Bridge Beers, so we’ll take that as read. The beer was absolutely terrific, is the main thing – both Bridge Beers Golden Mild and their Chocolate Porter (again, not as sweet as that sounds, and all the better for it). How he keeps it in such good condition when it’s served on gravity I’ll never know. Before leaving Stalybridge proper – which was surprisingly lively on a weekday afternoon, particularly given how dead I’ve seen it at the weekend – I went and got one of the huge range of pies at the Tripe Shop, confusing the owner with an attempted joke about how they didn’t sell much tripe (she gave me a puzzled look and pointed to a large bowl of tripe which I hadn’t noticed). Then back to the Buffet Bar, where Blackedge Dark Mild was a solid dark mild, and Squawk Corvus (at 7.4%) an only slightly silly imperial stout.
Finally, we ventured out to somewhere we’d never been before, and which I don’t think has been on a MM or WW list before this year: Macclesfield. Our first impression was that, in order to get anywhere, you first have to walk up a bloody great hill, which wasn’t entirely fun (hardened Stockport readers may scoff at this point). Our second impression is that, once you’re up there, practically everything is on that level, which makes life a lot easier (Stockport take note), especially as the town centre is remarkably compact; I’d printed off a map, and repeatedly found myself saying “it should be just along… oh, we’re there” or words to that effect. Our first stop was at the Castle, a tiny and apparently ancient pub right at the top of the aforementioned bloody great hill; they were serving Brass Castle Rhubarb and Custard light mild, which to my great surprise (a) actually tasted of the said ingredients and (b) worked; it was a really nice light mild, which also happened to taste of, well, rhubarb and custard. Next, we went to the Picturedrome, which turned out not to be a cinema but a food court of the… well, you know Mackie Mayor? you know the old market in Altrincham? Like that; exactly like that, right down to having a Blackjack bar. We took a look at the food prices, decided we’d be better off going to Gregg’s and stuck to the beer – Blackjack Dark Ruby Pub Ale. Which was absolutely tremendous – even better than it had tasted at the Smithfield. It’s all in the condition.
After a pie on the market (a Pieminister pie – none of your rubbish – but still half the price of anything at the Picturedrome) we headed downhill (boo!) to the local Spoons’, the confusingly-named Society Rooms. The uninspiring Lord’s Mild was even more uninspiring than usual, being sour. (“This beer, I’m afraid it’s gone,” I said to the bartender. “No it hasn’t, it’s in your hand,” she replied. Whatever gets you through the day…) I exchanged it for something else they did have on, viz. Jaipur (result!). Which – for the third time that day – was in really excellent condition; a stellar beer. We finished off at the RedWillow tap, where RedWillow Dark Mild was solid but unsurprising and their Sabro Porter was a fair bit better than that.
Four Pubs With No Mild on these trips out – although in fairness three of the four had evidently just run out – one of which was also a Pub With No Stickers. Norfolk Arms: Could Do Better. In the other eleven I had nine different milds from as many different breweries, although most of them have featured in one of the previous two posts; for all 48 pubs, my overall total is 26 beers from 23 brewers, with most of the rest being accounted for by Holt’s (eleven pubs) and Hyde’s (five).
What have I learned? A few things: Bridge Beers is lovely – as are, well, Bridge Beers – and I’d go there a lot more often if only it wasn’t in Stalybridge; Holt’s mild is great, and appreciating modern hop-forward pales from oh say for instance Deya doesn’t stop you enjoying it; condition is really important, and for some reason they really seem to be on top of it in Macclesfield; you can find some quite decent pies in a surprising number of places; and you should always make sure you’ve got data on your phone before getting a train anywhere. And, while of course the longer-term future of CAMRA depends crucially on appealing to a younger demographic, I’ve got to say that retirement is great for this kind of thing. Support your local pub! Even during the day!
Next: the Festival…
Oh Good Ale 