Two decades of overlooking the obvious in central Manchester

Manchester has many wonderful old-fashioned pubs that, for some reason, we’d overlooked until last weekend.

Why haven’t we spent more time in The Peveril of the Peak, The Britons Protection, The City Arms, The Circus or The Grey Horse?

First, there’s our obsession with The Marble Arch. When we’re passing through Manchester with only a few hours to spare, our instinct is to head somewhere we know we like, with reliably enjoyable beer.

It was difficult to resist on our most recent trip, but resist we did.

Then there’s the fact that, on previous trips to the city, we’ve had missions to complete.

In 2016, researching 20th Century Pub, we needed to visit and photograph a Wetherspoon pub in East Didsbury, another Wetherspoon on Deansgate, a post-war Sam Smith’s pub in Withington, various estate pubs… Classic Victorian pubs weren’t on the agenda.

Another trip took us to a range of pubs, some of them very decent, in pursuit of Boddington’s and beers brewed in homage to it. That meant spending time in J.W. Lees fairly bland Rain Bar, while ignoring The Peveril of the Peak across the road.

It’s also fair to say that on our very earliest visits, when we were just out of our twenties, we were more excited about craft beer and bars than cask ale and pubs. Our tastes have changed as we’ve got older.

And, finally, it’s not quite true to say we’ve never been to these pubs: Ray’s drunk in some of them on his own while researching things like this piece about mild, or while visiting friends and relatives.

But it doesn’t really count unless we go together, each of us being the person most obsessed with thinking and talking about pubs the other knows.

This time, with no books or articles to write, we chose our own mission, and started with a trip to The City Arms, hidden on a side street opposite the Romanian Consulate, of course.

What is that quality of light the best pubs have? Multiple sources of light, diffused through stained or frosted glass, is part of it. Warm yellow light bulbs, cool grey daylight, tinted lampshades…

Multiple spaces are another important component of the feeling – room for standing, sitting and settling, with intimacy built into the very structure of the place.

Does the beer matter? Of course it does. There has to be something you can enjoy drinking, and if there are several, that only adds to the warm glow. Titanic Plum Porter did the job here (do we need to give tasting notes for this?) alongside Foss by Cumbria’s Fell Brewing, a delicate, dry 3.4% pale and hoppy.

We sat in the back room drinking with friends for several hours. We watched entire parties come and go, from groups of excited lads to parties of middle-aged people in shiny going-out shoes and their best frocks. Staying put, as we were, began to feel like odd behaviour. You don’t go to the pub, apparently, but to some pubs.

The Britons Protection didn’t impress Ray particularly when he visited with friends a few years ago. Then, it seemed gloomy, and the beer was warm and rough. This time, though, it charmed us completely.

The public bar at the front is narrow, looking out onto a busy main road. Through the bar we could see the lounge (with defunct bellpushes) and another secluded seating area, with a serving hatch opening onto a tiled corridor.

“These are all pale ales,” a man complained. “What’s the nearest you’ve got to a bitter?”

“I’ve just put another pale on,” said the barman. “I don’t know why.”

“I don’t like pale ales. I don’t like all them hops.”

The barman shrugged and a compromise was reached.

It would have been easy to get stuck here, with seats in the very darkest corner of the pub, listening to the music of twenty conversations at once.

The Peveril of the Peak feels as if it could be in Sheffield. Is that terribly insulting?

The exterior is astonishing, of course, and the subject of a million photographs, and even some paintings.

Inside is plainer and more functional. Not quite Early Doors territory but certainly on the plain side. There’s enough wood, stained glass and carpet to add warmth and dampen any clamour.

From the back room you can see right through, watching people perched on stools in the public bar. One man drank alone, head in hands, glancing around with distant eyes as if puzzling out a problem. He didn’t look happy but at least he was in the pub.

The Timothy Taylor Landlord was good and felt like the right beer to be drinking.

The Circus Tavern claims to be the smallest pub in the city. It is definitely small, with two tiny seating areas and a bar crammed into a corner of the entranceway.

The woman behind the bar was dressed in a huge winter coat and in the space of a single transaction called us love, sweetie, darling, angel and a few others we’ve forgotten.

It’s the kind of pub that only works if people talk to each other and collaborate to make space. When we entered one of the two rooms, everyone said hello, and then, as Ray’s Lancastrian mum would put it, “buddlied about” until there was space for us to sit.

You also need to keep a pub this small clean and tidy, so empty glasses were taken away within seconds. Some Germans arrived, muttering the quite accurate phrase “kleine Kneipe”. They were football fans from Berlin there to meet a Mancunian friend.

Another party was a group of older men in high visibility workwear and dusty boots discussing a trip to the West Country: “And there was a sort of bowling alley in the pub, so of course we got a team together…”

A few doors along, at The Grey Horse, we found a fairly similar environment – and our first pint of mild. Not that it was badged as such, of course, but what else could a 3.5% “malty red ale” ale called Dark Ruby be?

It’s not as charming, The Grey Horse. It’s been painted grey, for one thing, in a stroke of frustrating literalness. And there were piles of shopping bags and coats taking up valuable seating space.

Still, if this was the only pub in town, you’d think it a bloody good one. We enjoyed sitting at the bar, in a corner, feeling sheltered and warm.

We know what you’re thinking: what about The Crown & Kettle? Ray’s been, but Jess never has, and we’ll definitely start there on our next visit. And we know The Castle Hotel quite well, too.

But if there are others that fit the bill, do let us know, so we can start daydreaming.