Categories
Fitness Manchester Marathon Sport

The Greater Manchester Marathon (it’s not Snickers. Heathens) 2016

This was my third marathon. My hat trick.

There, any kind of remote feelings of wonderment towards me must end (only in this regard, of course, carry on for the other reasons).

My third as a spectator, bag looker afterer, next of kin, meerkat impersonator as I attempt to spot my partner in crime (the Rabid Mime) proud supporter and, it has to be said, worrier.

My first was the Greater Manchester Marathon 2013, my second the New York Marathon 2015, and this the third, the Greater Manchester Marathon 2016. 

My marathon (supporting) career resembles a kind of New York sandwich. Which would make it a Reuben.

The journey on the day begins with the actual journey. Early rise on a Sunday, on public transport with fellow runners and fellow supporters – do they feel as embarrassed as me to be in civvy clothing? Probably not as they are sure to be well adjusted and more self assured than myself.

None more so than the couple who swanned on at Cornbrook.

Hey everyone, if you move down it creates space and allows more people on!

This, revelation, mind, was bellowed as the doors were opening. Everyone, not having had a chance to create space. 

We then approach Trafford Bar.

Open the doors! Open the doors and let me off. This is the stop for the Marathon.

A kindly soul gently explains that they are best to get off at Old Trafford Cricket Club, that being, in actual fact, the closest to Old Trafford Cricket Club, the start of the race.

This was met with silence and a refusal by the couple to make eye contact with everyone.


Great weather was matched by a greater location for the race village; Old Trafford Cricket Club. Yes I know its full name includes its sponsor but I’m no corporate puppet, no siree.


I do understand that the baggage collection element of the ‘Manchester Marathon didn’t go brilliantly, but this didn’t affect this blogger and her charge, as this blogger also serves as supporter and packhorse at races.

As always, it was heartwarming (read ‘soul-destroying’) to see all these fit and sporty people, smiling, laughing, and milling right before running 26.2 miles.


It’s important to have a pre-arranged meeting place after any well-populated race. Where better than in the Pavilion with this view:


Goodbyes said, the runners make their way over to the Start Line whilst supporters plan their vantage points, consider how they’ll spend the next few hours, wonder if their phone batteries will last the course (me), where the nearest loo is (me), whether they’ll find somewhere to linger and write, that won’t judge me (see Foundation Coffee House post) .

Most of all, whether they’ll ever find themselves running a marathon (me and no).


After having the brilliant idea to go to the Costa Coffee down the road (did you know that it’s an actual drive-thru?! I’m still getting over my first visit to a McDonalds one, two years ago – what a seamless magical routine they have), I quickly discovered that pretty much everyone had the same idea.

And so it was to the 5 miles mark that I headed, right opposite the infamous Lou Macari’s Chip Shop. Here were lots of fervent supporters and whoopers and there I stood, and filmed, and photographed, and clapped, and managed to miss seeing my runner.

Come on! Hooray! Well done.

You get the general idea.


I and my fellow self-loathers did see plenty of other runners though and magnificent they all were. Two boys behind me made me smile as they listed the characters who were so far beating their dad…

Batman and Robin!

A gorilla!

118 men …

and

Wait for it

A man in a skirt!!!

yes, we’re looking at you man and indeed all men from Scotland.

Some hours later, the runners, they did run and emerged back at Old Trafford Cricket Ground tired, magnificent, happy and victorious.

Whilst this blogger and supporter got out of breath walking over to Salford Quays and back, these runners had been here, there, everywhere and essentially to Altrincham and back.

As I sat in the ground on our pre-arranged spot I was just considering whether a spot where my runner had to walk up steps, immediately after finishing, was wise. And so just as I was looking around for a plan B, up those steps he did appear.

With a personal best of

3.45.03

the Rabid Mime did become the Rapid Mime (brilliant, eh?).

And so another wonderful day for (Greater) Manchester as Mancunians joined with non-Mancunians who came from far and wide, to run, see South Manchester, achieve personal goals and raise money for charity in the

Greater Manchester Marathon 2016.

 

Final mention and word, however, must go to fellow supporters, little George, and his mother, as we were all leaving the race village…

George, you’ve pulled your pants up with tomato ketchup hands!

Congrats to all (especially George)!

Categories
Food and Drink Manchester Uncategorized

The Blue Pig (I like it)

I have a friend. Let’s call him Beer (no I’m not metaphorically telling you I have a drinking problem, Beer is an actual man). Beer, I said (typed), give me three words to sum up your thoughts on The Blue Pig.

I like it.

Thanks, Beer, I said.

Beer wanted to expand on this and I allowed him to.

Parisian beer tent

Even better, Beer, I said.

Why are you called Beer, I said.

Beer was gone. He hadn’t died, just gone offline.

 

pig ✔️ blue✔️ (the the is inferred, prop-wise)

 

The first thing to say about The Blue Pig, in the Northern Quarter, is that inside it does give good Parisian bar. Parisian bar in ‘the old days’.

The actual bar area itself is something to behold and for those who haven’t stepped through the blue hue (or heu bleu), you’ll be surprised at how much more compact it is than my picture below suggests. And by that I mean it is ostensibly grand for its size, in quite a marvellous way.

 

credit: @thebluepigmcr on Instagram. I was seated at a jaunty angle to the bar and my own photo would not have done it justice. ok?

 

The fixtures and fittings, are iron, in general and both impressive and a little unnerving.

Let us look at these meat hooks…

 

meat hooks

 

Can’t see them? You’re perhaps distracted by the events and promotions on the boards (more on these later – see how I tease). A closer look…

 

meat hooks but nearer

 

A nod to the pig, I guess. At pains not to embarrass myself by misinterpreting the various styles, nods, homages and raison d’etre of The Blue Pig, I turned to the bar’s website to see if I could quote a summary of its wondrous usp. I’ve lifted this…

…an illustrious drinking hole situated right in the heart of Manchester’s Northern Quarter.

Along with Beer’s summing up of the bar…

I like it

No, the other one

Parisian beer tent

…my own summing up is Pigs in Paris. Swine on the Seine. Erm Hogs in Hermes?

Anyway the heavily scribed ceiling is pig-heavy and fun to read, twisting your neck to a variety of angles in the process.

 

pig, bacon, those hooks again

 

Drinks. Great cocktails. Current rival to Lost In Tokyo for great, good value (not, in this case, code for cheap and nasty) cocktails which are Happy Houred up until 7pm.

My favourite of those tried, both feature on the House Creations page – the exotic Madame and the Quincy, which I sampled only yesterday (bang upto date, this blog, you know).

I was seduced by its promise of vanilla vodka, honey and lime. Only once had the process started did I read the ingredients properly and did CHILLI jump off the page at me.

As I turned white, my partner in crime (let’s once again, call him the Rabid Mime), whispered the comforting words…

It might be alright

It turned out it was alright. Mostly down to the excellent customer care which came from the bartender who either noticed my pallid complexion, heard the reassuring…

It might be alright

or, more likely, is good at his job, and took the time to ask how soft I am (my words) to which I replied very and so bespoke me my own mild version. He even checked in on me a few minutes later.

The Quincy was delicious and made me feel daring. Kind of the same effect that diverting from Beef Monster Munch to Pickled Onion Monster Munch has on me.

 

the Quincy – note the delightful little chilli garnish

 

The bar also prides itself on its craft beers and my two friends, the Rabid Mime and Beer both bear testament to this.

On a final note, The Blue Pig is red hot on its events. A few weeks ago I found myself late to the party, when I walked in on the climax to a loud, lively game of Oink! Punk Bingo. 

 

look at this pig on this flyer. and at the farmyard animal in the bottom right hand corner


Mental Bingo, as I like to call it, is really taking off and popping up all over Manchester.

In this case, the general premise is your bingo card contains band names or singers, not numbers. Bursts of songs are belted out, not numbers, and it’s a race to identify the artist and cross them off your card, if present.

Not numbers.

spoiler – Kanye West got taken out (oh imagine)

 

I arrived just in time to see my friend  victorious, but not before she had danced in a dance off to a dancey tune for reasons I’m still not entirely clear on, but did lead her to walk away with free wine and this…

see that arm? that’s Beer’s arm.

And so there we have it.

The Blue Pig, the Parisian Beer Tent,  is stylish in appearance, fun and extensive in its drinks, its food, according to its website;meaty and luscious (it smells good) and its events calendar lively, loud and on point.

do i need permission to feature this back of head?

 

To paraphrase  The Thick of It‘s Julius Nicholson, The Blue Pig is positively hoggish.