Tthe day started, uncharacteristically, on schedule. Howard picked me up just before 11:45, we went to Daves, picked him up just 12pm, then had to go back to collect his phone, then we were on the way.
We got to the hotel in Hyde a little after 1, just minutes after the other car and we were ready to go.
We informed the hotel that we'd be back later, and drunk, and they were fine with that. They even looked after our stuff, as our rooms weren't ready. They ordered us 2 taxis and after a brief jaunt through sunny Hyde we arrived at Stalybridge station. We got our return tickets to Batley, £10.90, and waited for the train. We had about a 20 minute wait so me, Howard and Dave stood around waiting, while the others went for some food. Good old Subway.
The train arrived, we got on and about an hour later we were in Batley.
The first pub was just outside the train station and it was called The Cellar Bar. It was a nice little pub, very cosy with a few TVs on the wall and a snooker table. They also had gig nights throughout the week, and quiet as it was, I got the impression it could get quite rowdy.
We had 2 pints in here, Copper Dragon it was called. Then we headed out into the sun and over to the train station for the next train which was to take us to Dewsbury.
Another nice pub here, called ... Well I don't remember what it was called, but I do remember all of us supping a lovely pint of Timothy Taylor's Landlord. Which is lovely stuff. We met some friendly folk from St Helens who were doing a similar thing to us, but going in the opposite direction, and heading to somewhere to watch the rugby.
Next up was Mirfield. The pub here was again a bit of a walk. We were ostensibly in the middle of nowhere and had to find the pub which was behind a row of houses, in what looked like a car park. It looked rough as shit. It smelled like stale piss. Avoid at all costs (it won't be hard to, it's already hidden) The Navigation Tavern.
We left here, and headed back to the station in high spirits. A train arrived, we got on, I used the toilet and we approached a station none of us recognised from earlier and a chap said "Huddersfield? Wrong train lads, this is the Manchester Train". We got off the train at Brighouse. We were confused. We hadn't even considered this eventuality. We were also drunk, which I admit absorbed quite a lot of the shock. We weighed up our options, and looking at the board we were dismayed to learn the next train to Hudderfield wasn't due for nearly 2 hours. But then logic took hold and we realised we could just get on any train as long as it was going back to Mirfield. That arrived about 5 minutes later. We got on and Mike asked the conductor what time the next train from Mirfield to Huddersfield was, he said "about 10 minutes" so then Mike asked "and how long will this train take to get to Mirfeld?" and the man said "about 10 minutes". This was going to close. The next train after that wouldn't be for another 35 minutes or so, and none of us wanted to go back to Shitty Piss Pub. As we got off the train in Mirfield, the Huddersfield train appeared on the horizon, heading into the opposite platform. None of us could recall the last time we'd run that far, that fast, that drunk, that dangerously. |
| Fine cuisine. |
Huddersfield. We headed for a lovely looking pub called The Head of Steam but when we got there, Stewart insisted that it wasn't the one on the list, and that we had to go The Kings Head instead. It was a shit hole. Full of proper weirdos and there was an air of angriness in there. We had one pint, very swiftly and headed out for some fine cuisine.
Fillet Mignon scoffed, we hastened to the station for the next train, this time to Slaithwaite (pronounced, inexplicably, "Slahwuth"). The pub here was down an incredibly steep hill. It was a nice pub, called The Commercial. They had a lovely selection of real ales and it was very busy. We left after one pint, and headed out, up the hill to the platform.
The train arrived after a short wait, and we made the decision to skip the last 2 stations, Marsden and Greenfield, and get back to Stalybridge and relax. The train was packed with all manner of people, some going into "town" for "partying", some doing the same sort of thing as us, there was even a gentleman trainspotter complete with notepad and bulldog clips. He looked a little... unusual, and Mike noticed that was aswell as sporting an earring, he was also wearing what appeared to be a sort of S&M collar under his shirt. Alas, none of us took a picture, but as I write this I'm wondering if the bulldog clips had a dual purpose.Stalybridge pub is really nice, with a great selection of ales. It's a wide pub, but it's not very deep. I also recall the ceiling in the toilets being a little low. Just, you know, FYI.
Two here, then back to the hotel. I don't really recall the taxi ride, or at what time this took place but checking the time stamp on one of my photos it was 22:49. The second taxi got waylaid by a spontaneous trip to Tesco for supplies, and Mike also had the urge to but a bottle of Jameson's, anticipating extortionate bar prices. Anyway, we checked in and went to the bar, coz you know, we needed to drink more.
We found a quiet corner in the expansive hotel bar and made it a lot less quiet and after a few more drinks Mike broke out the Jameson's. At about 1am, me, Lea, Howard and Dave went up to bed. Not together. On our own.
We found out this morning that the party carried on until about half 3. I'm glad I went to bed. We all had a lovely fried buffet breakfast and headed home at about half 10.
Currently sat listening to some Ulrich Schnauss and fighting back the hangover. I'm well over due a shower, so I'm going to get that done, and then we're off to the in-laws for a hearty (I think I overuse that word) roast dinner.
I won't do another post today, unless something incredible happens.
I'd just like to say a big "thanks" to the guys who came on my stag do. I had a great time, and I really appreciate you all coming, and all that sentimental shite. Thanks guys.
See you tomorrow...
