The Tale of Port Street Beer House: Where Old Friends Reunite

A Night at Port Street Beer House

Last night, the gang and I decided to grace the hallowed halls of the Port Street Beer House, which, let’s face it, has easily become my top watering hole in Manchester. Dave Hallam, fresh off the plane from Hong Kong, and Stephen Southern, making a rare appearance from the big smoke of London, were the main attractions pulling us together.

A cracking night ensued, though we made a solemn vow to limit our tippling to just two varieties of beer. First up on the roster was a little number named “Beast” hailing from the Brightside Brewery in Bury. This malty marvel boasted a strength that demanded respect, balanced impeccably with a bitterness level that kept things interesting. With its sturdy body and a hint of English hops, rounded off with a light, zesty American hop finish, it was the epitome of a top-notch session bitter. A pint of pure joy, if you ask me.

Our second venture into the world of brews led us to the Thornbridge Wye. Now, according to the marketing spiel, this Pale Ale was supposed to offer a delicate hint of cucumber in its aroma. Well, let me tell you, it wasn’t just a hint—it was a full-blown cucumber extravaganza. While the novelty was initially intriguing, the taste soon became more of a challenge than a pleasure. But hey, that’s the beauty of the craft beer scene, isn’t it? Always keeping us on our toes.

Lewis’s School Leavers Ball: A Parent’s Predicament

Now, shifting gears from hops to high school hijinks, today marked Lewis’s School Leavers Ball at The Deanery High School, held in the grandiose surroundings of Kilhey Court in Wigan. We may not have been sipping pints, but the evening was no less eventful.

We escorted Lewis to rendezvous with his mates, where they were eagerly awaiting a chauffeured journey to Kilhey Court in none other than a stretch limo. At £45 a pop, it certainly wasn’t pocket change, but as they say, you’ve got to make an entrance, right?

And who’s left with the unenviable task of playing the part of the late-night chauffeur? Yours truly, of course. Yes, I’ll be the one bleary-eyed and yawning behind the wheel at the ungodly hour of 1:00 am. But hey, if it means the lad has a night to remember, I suppose it’s a small sacrifice to make.

Now, as I sit here contemplating the impending hours of sleep deprivation, I can’t help but wonder if a well-deserved lie-in might be on the cards for tomorrow. Here’s hoping.