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Friday 4th May 2007
    
So, yeah . . . the training in Manchester finished a bit early today, so I went along Canal Street, looking for a pub to get a drink. I ignored the bar called Queer and went for Churchills, a couple doors down from there, perhaps lured in by the sign on the window proclaiming, "Due to recent events, we will search all bags on premises," or similar. I got my drink and went outside, watching these two huge duck-like creatures and a duckling that seemed a bit lost. Then someone started shouting at me, "You can't take your glass out there. You gotta put it in a plastic glass." Uh? What? "You'll have to go back inside, get your drink in a plastic glass. I'm sorry," and so I did that. And then something jarred me, and so I drank up fast . . . I can't remember what it was.
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I then went for a wander, but returned to Canal Street and tried to enter a pub that sold something non-lagery, some decent bitter. Complete waste of time, of course. I entered Rembrandts and puzzled about the fact that all the clientéle were male. Not a single woman. I ordered a pint of Carlsberg and, noticing that it was being poured into a glass glass, informed the barman that I would be taking this drink outside, which changed the vessel accordingly. I was beginning to suspect all the pubs along this street catered to a certain cross-section of society, and so thought I would check out the fliers/postcards available in the entrance, hoping to corroborate my suspicions. I   
didn't get a chance to do this, as at that moment I was asked by a young man (entering the pub), with a big smile, "Are you going in or coming out?" although it may have been: "Are you going out or coming in?" I've no idea. The smile was far more suggestive than friendly, so I explained, "No, I'm off out of here," and headed back for the station, hurrying past two male skinheads hand-in-hand. So that's Canal Street then.
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