Manchester

Friday 16th April: A day of firsts as the intrepid adventurers – Stephen, Nick, Ken and myself – descend upon Old Trafford to watch the second day of Lancashire v Warwickshire…

Its an early start, heading to Queen Street to catch the 325 National Express coach at 7:55am. Waiting outside the Express & Star offices, the coach arrives on time and proves quite comfortable for a relaxing start to the day. This was my first time using National Express coaches and I was suitably impressed, especially as the £15.50 return seemed very reasonable compared to the train option. The journey was enjoyable, cruising up the A449 and M6 on the VE2 chatting with Mr B.

Bonus: We didn’t need to stop at Penkridge so our first pickup is Hanley, a place I’d never visited before. The approach proved fascinating with some intriguing pubs like the Coachmakers Arms, and then we arrived at the bus station which looked dated and grotty on the side of a dodgy precinct, one long row of numbered bays on the left (served by the First local routes), then another row at the far end for the coaches. The fact it wasn’t particularly modern meant the station rather appealed to me, especially the layover area where a parade of buses were lined up with blinds for Market Drayton, Bentilee, Mere and so forth. When the driver invited us to stretch our legs (he wanted a cigarette break), I darted off for some bonus photos, trying to get shots of the stands and routes like the 101 and the 20. I even had a sneaky peek at the town, dashing up Charles Street to find the Market Tavern, the Burton Stores and the Reginald Mitchell Wetherspoons on Parliament Row – cracking stuff. I’m seriously now contemplating a proper visit.

Back on the coach, we whizz through Etruria and back on the A500 (towards Nantwich) to rejoin the M6. We branch off to call at Manchester Airport, a maze of circulatory roads, terminal buildings and hotels – the bus interchange looks smart with the odd Stagecoach in attendance. The final approach into Manchester takes us along a straight main road with the Royal Brewery, a large cemetery and glimpses of Moss Side. We enter the city flanked by intriguing railway viaducts and bridges, passing pubs like the City Arms and the Peveril of the Peak (glorious green tiles) to arrive at Chorlton Street for Manchester Central Coach Station. The interchange is built into a multi-storey car park but the passengers areas are quite bright and inviting with a WH Smiths, ticket offices and vending machines.

Manchester it is then, and time for the journey to the ground. With a merry dance we swiftly find the Metrolink; Chorlton Street by Yates’, crossing Portland Street to Charlotte Street with hints of the Chinese Quarter then Mosley Street to St Peter’s Square. The cityscape is quite inspiring, with tall characterful buildings all well presented and creating a sense of excitement. The Metrolink stop has yellow GMPTE branding and is overlooked by a distinctive large circular library. The trams seem to run very regularly with a combination of new and older fleet (cue for a few pictures there), whilst the ticket machines are simple to use and the £2.40 return to Old Trafford is again reasonable (especially considering the bus fare from home to town in Wolverhampton!)

Old Trafford is served by the line to Altrincham – there is an offshoot to Eccles, with both branches connecting to Bury on the other side of the City Centre. We have one of the older trams, the interior being more reminiscent of the Tube than our own Metro. Nick and I sit near the rotating join and admire the scenery at stops such as GMEX, Cornbrook (change here for Eccles), Trafford Bar (ramps and steps, more like a proper station than a halt) and Old Trafford itself. The stop here has been built with matchdays in mind so there are lots of segregating railings and barriers to contend with, bear left for Altrincham keep right for Manchester. The stop is also next door to the cricket ground so the whole thing could not be simpler.

We head off down Brian Statham Way looking for a place to get our tickets. There is a turnstile section (Welcome to Old Trafford) but we have to continue round the corner with great views of the impressive Trafford Town Hall (apparently the Manchester United ground is further up the road, you can just about see some of the stand struts on the horizon). The perimeter fence of the cricket ground includes some nice railings with the red rose emblem, plus a carved corner sign too. Arriving at the main entrance, the back of the pavilion is prominent with its towers. We hand over our £15 and follow the concourse round to find some seats, noting a second hand book stall (leave donations) and a members enclosure.

We end up sitting in the Brian Statham End with good views behind one set of wickets. Looking around the ground, the old pavilion is quite enchanting with its clock turrets, green domes and elegant balconies. Sadly a giant red monstrosity is being constructed right next to it which rather ruins the view and appears to have seriosuly annoyed the locals - I'm not surprised! Elsewhere there are a motley collection of stands, some of which appear to be completely empty, with sponsorship by Thwaites’ Brewery Wainwright Beer and Chewits! The JCBs are in alongside the red lump, so construction is an ongoing process here and the ground has an incomplete feel with one particular corner of the ground having a car park backdrop rather than a stand.

It’s a lovely sunny morning, more like summer than spring and a far cry from the recent cold drizzly snap. Warwickshire had resumed on 18/1 overnight and had progressed to 24/1 by the time we took our seats – then the chaos starts. Westwood is bowled by Glen Chapple (good ball or poor batting, not too sure?), and is quickly followed by Naqqash Tahir (also bowled Chapple, this one keeping low according to SB). Warwickshire are then in a mess when Trott goes without scoring, 28/4 and the jinx strikes again, cue for some furious scribbling on scorecards. Bell and Troughton see us safely through to lunch and are beginning to build a partnership.

The lunch interval gives us chance to explore more of the ground, heading round towards the car park corner. Security announcements warn spectators not to leave bags unattended, and there’s a message for drivers that their cars might be clamped – it all seems rather foreboding and restrictive. Taking our perambulation, it appears that some of the stands are roped off as inaccessible (hence being empty) and the concourse is flanked behind green metallic screens screaming out No Alcohol at regular intervals. I was hoping to get some nice angles of the various structures but felt the scope for this was very limited, although we did confirm that the red thing looked out of place wherever we viewed it from. We arrive over by the Stretford End to find we were effectively leaving the ground, so its an about turn back to the Brian Statham. On a more positive note, I was able to note the arrival of an ice cream van and picked up a spot of lunch (cheesy chips for £2.50, might have been more expensive elsewhere).

I actually really enjoyed those chips as we settled back in our seats. Ken and Nick had visited the pavilion and smuggled out an Eccles cake, and the conversation turned to cheese, fruit and nuts. Resuming on 122/4 we were hopeful of making progress, but the innings is put on the back foot when Jim retired hurt (apparently with a migraine) and then Bell got out for 47 attempting a sweep shot off debut spinner Kerrigan – an unlucky dismissal possibly but risky shot selection? Ambrose didn’t last long before also falling to Kerrigan, whilst Ricky Clarke managed a useful 43 (including one fine six) before Saj Mahmood uprooted his stumps just before tea. Woakes and Carter reach the interval at 238/7, so the initial crisis of 28/4 had been averted but the chance to really impose ourselves on the game hadn’t been taken either.

Tea then, and another walk around the ground. With Nick leading the way we head into the Pavillion so I can claim my own Eccles cake, plus have a general look around the Long Room and the member’s bar (lots of real ales) – I was very impressed and quite surprised that anybody could apparently get access. We even saw Jimmy Anderson by the dressing room, a nice highlight. After comparing notes with Railway Pete, SB and I grab an ice cream from Gerards van (unfortunate name in Manchester surely?) then its back to our favourite vantage point for the evening session.

Stephen had predicted another start of session collapse and so it proved – a pointless run out saw off Carter, then the returning Troughton rather gave his wicket away with an injudicious swish. Woakes and Imran Tahir just about crept us above the 250 mark for a valuable extra bonus point, and the innings closed on 254 all out, a lead of a solitary run. Lancashire began their second innings and didn’t look in a huge degree of trouble. Tom Smith departed early c Ambrose b Carter, but Horton and Moore looked assured and you couldn’t really see another wicket coming. Thankfully there was a strike before the close, Clarke taking a fine slip catch to snaffle Horton off Woakes. Anderson performed his night-watchman duties quite comfortably and it was 84/2 at the close. An intriguing days play then, finishing quite even with neither team able to build a commanding advantage – good competitive entertainment.

Filing out of the ground, its round the corner to the Metro stop, timing it perfectly to hop on the tram to Bury – it wasn’t as crowded onboard as I was expecting. I’d definitely consider returning to Old Trafford again and wouldn’t mind exploring the wider Metrolink network. At St Peter’s Gardens we make our way down Oxford Street to find the Paramount Wetherspoon’s but its packed out on a Friday evening and we don’t want to chance waiting ages to be served. Portland Street has a couple of narrow hostelries – the Circus Tavern and the Great Horse (the latter a Hyde’s house) – again popular but food might be an issue. We thus continue with our city centre wander, emerging at Piccadilly Gardens and eventually finding a chip shop on Oldham Street. We tuck in over by the fountains, a popular spot or so it seems, revving up for the nightlife as a hen party parades by – I pity the girl dressed up as Marge Simpson!! Actually the meal was very enjoyable, the chips crisp with lots of vinegar tang and the pie proving easy to handle with a firm crust and a great filling.

We still have a bit of time to kill before the 8pm return coach, so we consider the prospect of a quick drink. I have a closer look at Piccadilly Gardens – there’s a bus interchange here with a few routes on layover (85/86 to Chorlton?) plus a Metrolink stop on the spur to Piccadilly Station. We head round by the coach station, close to the Canal Street Gay Quarter, and find the Paddy’s Horse pub and Maxwell’s chip shop which might be useful for future reference. Passing up on the chance of a swift half, we loop back to Coach Central and wait on the concourse for our departure – I stock up on cola and Boost bars just in case.

The ride back home provided a quiet, reflective end to the day, leaving Manchester as darkness fell and then negotiating Manchester Airport as I tuck into my Eccles cake. Stephen and I enjoy a varied conversation discussing Wolves, Eccles the dog on Corrie, Westwood’s captaincy and life in general. It was interesting to see Hanley in the dark, with the Town Hall and Regent Theatre both lit up all enticingly, then its a slog down the M6 and back through Penkridge, arriving a couple of minutes ahead of our 22:10pm ETA. Waving off Nick and Ken, I wait with Mr B for his 559 then jump on the 533 to complete proceedings for another day.

And what an adventure it was – I really enjoyed sampling another major British city and now have some bearings on which to build in the future. I would definitely consider returning to Manchester for a general day out, perhaps sampling one of the pubs we didn’t quite manage this time. The National Express coach worked well and provides future food for thought, and I even achieved a little ambition by tackling an Eccles cake with its curranty centre – you can’t ask for much more than that!!