Bury FC - Alive and Kicking - And Thriving!

Back in late August 2023, I ventured to the home of Padiham FC to watch an early season match against Bury FC in The North West Counties League Premier Division (tier 9 of the English football pyramid). The newly merged entity of Bury FC was reunited with its spiritual home of Gigg Lane and the fans had their club - and their ground - back after four years of turmoil. I wrote about it here Bury Alive - And Kicking.

My mate Darren, about to fall in love.

Three years down the line and despite narrowly missing out on promotion at the end of that 2023/24 season, consecutive promotions since have seen Bury rise to the Northern Premier League, Premier Division. After my mate Darren's fall-in-love-affair with the club back in June (see Flaming June), I thought it was about time I got myself down to Gigg Lane for a first visit in twenty five years* and an FA Cup third qualifying round tie at home to Bromsgrove Sporting provided the perfect opportunity to do so.

And so it was that I headed out on Saturday morning with a life size replica FA Cup made of silver foil and cardboard, a wooden rattle and a kingsize, blue and white "Up for the Cup" rosette. Okay, that's not true but I'm old enough to remember when the FA Cup was the glory trophy of English football and an FA Cup day, third qualifying round or not, was invariably superior to a league game in terms of excitement, atmosphere and the prospect/ possibility/ pipedream of a trip to the twin towers at Wembley in May.

It would be remiss of me not to mention that Bury have actually won the FA Cup on two occasions, admittedly many moons ago but that just goes to show that this is a club with a real football heritage.

Darren in fifteen years time.

As an old geezer of a certain age, I am now the proud owner of a Bus Pass which currently saves me a maximum of £3.00 per trip. Thanks to Andy Burnham this will soon only save me a maximum of £2.00 per trip which is most unfair, particularly as taking the bus means that I don't have to stop at one and half pints so I'm going to be hit with a double whammy of saving less and spending more. Bloody politicians. Anyway I bussed it into Bury town centre where, upon alighting the bus at Bury Interchange bus station, I was piped off the bus by a one-legged bloke playing the spoons. As he was playing the spoons and not actually playing a pipe, I maybe should have said that I was "spooned" off the bus but this might easily have been misinterpreted so we'll stick with "piped". Anyway, with plenty of time to spare I rehydrated with a pint of J.W.Lees Dragon's Fire amber ale at The Robert Peel and then moved on to The Marketside Tavern where I quaffed a rather splendid pint of Phoenix Brewery's Arizona pale. 

Mrs C tells me that Bury is famous for its market and the market renowned historically for its black pudding. Now, I may be a southerner but I am quite partial to black pudding but I don't like markets. Shopping - generally - is a necessary evil. It has to be done but there's nothing enjoyable about it. How anyone can "enjoy" shopping and/or combine shopping with a "nice coffee" or a meal, or even a pint, is beyond me. Shopping is shopping. Get in. Get out. Job done. As its name implies, the Marketside Tavern is adjacent to the market and its location is genius in that one is tempted in by the excellent choice of beers on offer before one might otherwise, accidentally, set foot in the market. Phew. Narrow escape.

Suitably refreshed, I walked the near one mile from the town centre to the ground where, upon arrival, I was patted down and security wanded before paying my £10 entry to the main stand which houses Starkies Bar. Unusual name? Yep. Named after the old "Starkies" area of Bury which itself was named after the original land owners, the Starkie family of Padiham who also once owned the land on which Padiham FC now play their home games. Unbelievable Jeff.

You're never going to get a cask ale in a facility such as Starkies but the keg Hobgoblin IPA was decent enough consolation at £4.40 a pint. The bar looks out over the ground from the west end of the main stand. With an average home crowd of around three and a half thousand in an eleven thousand seater stadium, the stands behind the two goals are typically closed on match days although the east stand was open today for the hundred or so Bromsgrove supporters who made the trip. 

The guy on the door at Starkies had a question for me once my Sheffield Wednesday allegiance was mentioned. "What do you think about the state of the pitch at Hillsborough?" A fair enough question but a bit random? Not so. Turns out his brother is the head groundsman at Hillsborough! Fortunately, before he imparted this information, I was able to confirm that the new man has indeed performed something of a miracle in improving the pitch at Hillsborough. A partial rebuild of the pitch was necessary, involving a lot of digging, although he denies any knowledge of the whereabouts of ex-owner Dejphon Chansiri who hasn't been heard of for some months now. 

Both Jackson boys are fans of Manchester City, a club that is currently in the news for all the wrong reasons. Understandably, City fans generally are trying to rationalise the situation and I have some sympathy in the same way that I had sympathy for Bury fans when the club was expelled from the league in that none of it was their fault. Financially, football has never been a  level playing field and maybe the current financial fair play rules, of which City have fallen foul, are inherently misguided. But rules are rules and City's owners have deliberately ridden roughshod over the rules with the belief that they can deny and hide behind the power their riches afford. Now they've been caught out and face sanctions, they're threatening to take their ball home with them.

Al Capone used to engage in high profile charitable activity. It didn't make him a good guy.

Lifelong fan Tony Wright with Darren in 15 years time

I got talking to lifelong Bury fan Tony Wright. It's his dad's fault that Tony supports Bury and that, as far as I am concerned, is exactly how it should be. In fact, that really is what football shoud be about. The heritage. The pride. The belonging. 

Bury has a long and proud footballing heritage and Tony showed me the Bury FC Legends Wall, a permanent tribute consisting sixty large format panels, celebrating the history and players of the club. Famous names, some of whom I either didn't know of or had forgotten their Bury connections, including Colin Bell, Dean Kiely, Alec Lindsay, Craig Madden and Bob Stokoe. Bury FC is a real, good old fashioned football club. 

Bury FC Legends Wall

A second pint of the Hobgoblin IPA accompanied me to my seat in the main stand. Kick-off was preceded by a minute's applause to honour ex-Bury player Courteny Meppen-Walter who died a few days ago at the tragically early age of thirty two. 

Opponents Bromsgrove Sporting, managed by ex-Southampton, Blackburn Rovers and England goalkeeper Tim Flowers, play at an equivalent (tier 7) level in The Southern League Central Premier Division and came into the game unbeaten in their last nine games. By all accounts then, a tough one to call with two in-form teams of evenly matched status. 

A defensive error on 8 minutes led to Bury's opening goal. Another defensive error in the 59th minute led to Bury's second goal. In between times, Bury were the better of two well drilled teams although created little whilst Bromsgrove missed two good chances. Back to even steven and no real chances either way until a corner in the 91st minute resulted in a headed goal for the visitors, prompting enthusiastic celebrations from their small following including one lad who ran on to the pitch, giving it large to all and sundry. Potential squeaky bum time for Bury with the referee having added on a total of five minutes extra time but in between Bromsgrove pressing, the Bury forward Anthony Dudley missed a sitter when clean through against the goalkeeper. Mind you, the goalkeeper was a reyt big lad. Anyway, that was it. Final whistle and Bury were through. Wem-ber-ley, Wem-ber-ley!

Out of a crowd of 3,342 (more than when I came here twenty five years ago), I reckon all 3,342 had enjoyed their football fix and around 3,300 of whom can now look forward to further cup excitement in the next (final qualifying) round before the EFL teams enter the fray in Round 1 proper. The atmosphere throughout was excellent, generated particularly by the constant noise and backing of the Bury fans in the (opposite) south stand. 

When you have Bury FC to support, or Bromsgrove Sporting, or indeed any other football club, does it really matter that some clubs have more money and power than others? T'was ever thus and the imposing of anti-competitive guidelines to artificially level the financial playing field is akin to scrapping sports day at school to ensure that nobody loses. What football does need is a fairer distribution of money down through the football pyramid and the best way to achieve this is to link the contribution of the Premier League clubs to their turnover. The elite clubs wouldn't like this any more than Manchester City like the financial fair play rules but linking both their spending power and their solidarity contributions to turnover would at least ensure that the big boys can't have it both ways.

Bury FC is currently a big fish in a small pond and the fans will have realistic hopes of further progression up through the football pyramid for some time yet to come. The wonderful thing about football is that notwithstanding individual club wealth, ultimately it's all about what happens on the pitch. And whilst money massively influences what happens on the pitch, it is not a guarantee of success. Which is why fans of Bury FC, and Bromsgrove Sporting, and indeed all other football clubs are still allowed their pipedreams and wouldn't swap them for all the money in Abu Dhabi.

No wonder my mate Darren fell in love with this place.

* 21 August 2001 League Cup 1st Round: Bury 1-3 Sheffield Wednesday (att. 3,129)

Flaming June!

The 2025/26 football season is very nearly upon us, much to the relief of football fans everywhere. The close season? It's just plain wrong. In need of his football fix, my mate Darren came up with this daft challenge. I'll let him tell you all about it.

A serious task calls for a serious face.
First four grounds at Wigan Athletic, Bolton 
Wanderers, Salford City and Bury FC.

If you're a football fan, then the month of June has a lot to answer for. 

June is officially football's Close Season, as defined in FA rule book clause B21.3 when, amongst other things, no standard 11-a-side matches may take place. Yes, I know about the world cups and european championships but that's not proper, pre-match pie, smell of the crowd, roar of the greasepaint real football. And whilst June has its cricket and Wimbledon tennis, the fact is that I miss my real football and it's all June's fault. 

Or the FA's. 

Either way this June I decided I should do something about it and thus set myself the noble quest of visiting ten football grounds, in and around Geater Manchester, all in one day and all by public transport. I do have form in this respect having previously visited the grounds of all fifteen tier one to five clubs inside the M25, plus Wembley for luck, on a similar basis. That was eleven years ago and I did it with a mate but this time I was planning a solo challenge involving all nine of Greater Manchester's tier one to five clubs plus (tier seven) Bury FC as my billy bonus.

Irrespective of your thoughts on the worthiness or indeed sanity of such a challenge I do hope you will appreciate that these things don't just plan themselves. The logistics took literally hours and hours of planning to coordinate timings for trains (four), trams (three) and buses (twelve) which begs one of two questions. Did I miss my true vocation in life, or more simply, why Darren, why?

Oh, and I had to get to Manchester in the first place as I live in Essex. Again, why Darren, why?

I travelled up to Manchester by coach on the Sunday and stayed at a Premier Inn in the city centre, just a few minutes walk from Manchester Victoria station where my challenge was due to commence the following day. With a 05.34 train to catch in the morning, an early night was in order but unfortunately several beers and an attack of the munchies meant that it was almost midnight by the time my head hit the Premier Inn pillow. Best laid plans and all that.

Anyway, five and a half hours later I was up, showered, a bit chilly (having only packed a polo shirt for the day), hungry (too early for Greggs to be open).......and on the train to Wigan. Whilst on the train I purchased my Wayfarer ticket which would see me through the rest of the day, travel ticket wise. In theory.

The first of my thirteen bus journeys (I know, it was only supposed to be twelve) saw the first of thirteen scanning rejections for the Wayfarer ticket. Fortunately the bus driver was completely relaxed about it and I boarded the bus for the short hop to the stadium which to me - and most other footie fans - is known as the JJB, or at least the DW, but most definitely not the Brick Community Stadium which is apparently its latest incarnation.

Anyway, I exited the bus, walked to the stadium main entrance, took a few selfies and then back to the bus stop to catch the bus back to Wigan bus station. All a bit low key really but it was still early in the day and the second bus driver was similarly relaxed as his colleague had been about the Wayfarer ticket scanning rejection. 

From Wigan bus station a fifty minute bus ride - with a less relaxed bus driver - to Horwich followed by a fifteen minute walk to Bolton's Reebok Stadium, Except now it's rather ludicrously called the Toughsheet Community Stadium. I mean surely someone's taking the pee there? 

Whatever, en route to the Toughshit a huge Tesco store provided opportunity for actual taking of a pee plus purchase of food and drink. And once at the stadium I happened upon two football club staff members who were kind enough to allow me into the ground to take a few photos. The first thing that struck me as we walked along the concourse was how quiet and eerie it all was. In a strange way, I think that football grounds often look more impressive when they're empty. Maybe the scale is more apparent when empty?

From the impressive Toughshit, it was a short walk to Horwich Parkway railway station where I caught a train to Salford Crescent and then two buses - with two unhappy bus drivers - to Salford City's Moor Lane ground, the Peninsula Stadium. The word "peninsula" isn't immediately ridiculous in the same way as the Toughshit and I was totally unable to come up with any remotely rude or funny words out of the nine letters available. "Pines" maybe? Or "spine"? Or "snipe"? Definitely nothing rude or funny. Anagrams obviously aren't my thing.

Stockport County, Oldham Athletic (careful, nearly
broke into a smile), Rochdale and Manchester City.

Moving on. From the bus stop a short stroll through a rather nice residential part of Salford saw me arrive at this tidy little stadium. Unlike the Toughshit where all of me managed to gain entrance to the ground, only my left arm managed to do so here, courtesy of a gap in the gate through which my arm and phone managed to take a few snaps from inside the ground.

And then it was on to Bury via a thirty five minute bus ride on which I didn't even bother trying to scan the ticket, instead merely advising the driver that I had a valid ticket which had already failed to scan on five occasions so he would just have to take my word for it. And he did. I alighted the bus at the appropriate stop and took a short stroll to the Gigg Lane ground where I took a couple of selfies before trying my luck at the main reception. It was here I was met by a very friendly lady who, once I had told her what I was up to, was kind enough to give me a guided tour of the ground including dressing rooms and the fantastic hospitality suite. She told me so much about the history of the club and the Gigg Lane ground, including the difficulties of the last few years, and I really couldn't thank her enough by the time I departed. I know how bad ownership can wreck a football club as I have witnessed this with my own club, Sheffield Wednesday, but that is another story. Fortunately, Bury FC appear to be on the up now with consecutive promotions to their current tier seven level and with an infrastructure and fan base geared to further elevation up the football pyramid. I walked away from the ground with a real sense of admiration for the club and wishing them all the best for the future. Hopefully it won't be too long before they are back competing in the English Football League.

So far, so good. The day's itinerary was working to plan and I was actually marginally ahead of schedule. A short bus ride back to Bury Interchange with a few minutes to wait for the 468 bus to Rochdale where I was planning to visit the ground before treating myself to fish and chips at the iconic Willbuts Lane Chippy, a famous and classic old fashioned chippy set in a row of terraced houses next to the football stadium. The football stadium is called the Spotland Stadium (although sponsored as The Crown Oil Arena) and I noticed the 467 bus on the stand, destination Spotland, so I hopped on that one instead as it was leaving earlier than the 468 bus. Bad move.

The 468 bus route includes a stop at (very near to) the Spotland Stadium. The 467 bus doesn't. By the time I realised my error, I had no option but to stay on the 467 all the way to Rochdale bus station and then wait on the next bus heading back in the opposite direction. All in all this cost me around forty five minutes in time, not in itself a disaster. Once off the bus at the appropriate stop, I headed up a fairly steep hill towards the ground which was pretty underwhelming from the outside and with no one around to try and gain access. So, I took a few selfies and then headed off to Willbuts Lane Chippy, arriving there at a 1.45 pm just in time to see them turning round the "Open" sign on the entrance door. Bugger. That forty five minutes was a disaster after all.

Rather dejectedly and not a little hungry, I walked back to the Spotland Stadium bus stop to catch the next bus back to the bus station. The, by now, expected rejection of the Wayfarer ticket was not warmly received by the bus driver and a heated discussion ensued before he reluctantly allowed me on board. Contrast this with the lovely bus driver on my next bus who cheerfully welcomed all passengers on board and cheerfully bid them farewell upon exit.

As for the rude driver, he reminded me of the Peninsula Stadium in that he was a bit of Snipe/ Pines/ Spine or something similar perhaps.

Next stop was Oldham Athletic's Boundary Park stadium and a ten minute walk from the Royal Oldham Hospital stop and down the hill with the ground visible in the distance complete with its four traditional floodlight pylons rising high into the sky. What a wonderful sight, and one that is rapidly becoming a thing of the past with the modern stadiums, so it's something that always puts a smile on my face. It's hard to explain and maybe you have to be of a certain age to appreciate this vestige of real football.

Similarly the main stand was a fantastic throwback to the past with the words OLDHAM ATHLETIC on the back of the stand in a 1970's retro style. I took a few snaps and as I was right by the main reception area, I buzzed the intercom to see if I might be able to gain access to the ground. A nice chap came to the door, I explained what I was up to and he was kind enough to let me in and we headed for pitchside. The pitch itself was in immaculate condition and the stadium was a wonderful mix of old and new and very different from when I last visited here. That was on the final day of the 1990/91 season, a dramatic afternoon with Oldham coming back from 2-0 down to win 3-2 against Sheffield Wednesday. That result edged out West Ham United to the Second Division title but all three teams ended up being promoted.

We chatted football for several minutes and talked about the 2025 National League play-off final when my home town team, Southend United, snatched defeat from the jaws of victory against Oldham in a dramatic extra time period. He was telling me that a lot of Oldham fans have developed a soft spot for Southend following that match and are hoping that they too will be back in the football league sooner rather than later.

Back up the hill towards the bus stop and my noble challenge was very nearly brought to a premature halt by a chap taking more interest in his mobile phone than the electric vehicle he was driving. I proffered some suitable advice to the guy, possibly invoking a five letter anagram derived from Salford's stadium name, before two bus journeys and a thirteen minute walk saw me at the Etihad Stadium, the fabulous home of Manchester City. I actually visited the Etihad last year and did a proper stadium tour so today was all about a quick selfie to prove I'd been there and then off to catch a tram to Picadilly and then train to Stockport.

Following my Willbuts Lane Chippy disappointment, had it not been for a packet of TUC cheese biscuits then I might have been tempted to get at least some satisfaction out of the Wayfarer ticket by eating it. But as I entered Picadilly and approached the barriers with ticket in hand the clouds parted, angelic voices sang and shafts of sunlight came upon me, the barriers parted and I was as Moses and the parting of the red sea.

It was a short hop on the train to Stockport station and only a five or six minute walk to Stockport County's Edgeley Park Stadium. The stadium came into view and as I approached the main stand, the first thing that struck me was the fantastic sign of blue letters on white background, running virtually the full length of the stand, spelling out STOCKPORT COUNTY AFC. It was very impressive. No obvious opportunity to get a look inside the ground so I took a few pictures behind the big modern stand at one end of the ground before heading back to the train station.

I'm enjoying it really. Honest.
Altrincham and Manchester United

From Stockport I had a fifteen minute train journey to my penultimate destination being Altrincham FC of The National League (tier five). From Altrincham train station it is a ten to twelve minute walk to Altrincham's Moss Lane ground. All this traipsing about on not much more than a packet of TUC biscuits had me feeling a bit knackered by this stage but once I've set my mind on something there's usually no stopping me. One of the gates to the ground was open and having asked permission to enter from a chap who, it transpired, had nothing to do with the club I wandered inside and took a few more pics. 

Nine down. One to go! 

I walked back to the train station and caught the tram to Old Trafford. The tram stop is right next to Old Trafford cricket ground, home of Lancashire CCC and as I do like my cricket, it would have been rude not to take a few pics here as well. But it was Manchester United's Old Trafford stadium that I was here for, just a further half a mile up the road.

I walked past The Trafford pub with its murals of Bobby Charlton and George Best then crossed the main road and into the stadium complex. Despite it being quite late in the day now - around eight o'clock - there were still plenty of tourists around taking photos. Why is it that all tourists nowadays seem to be Japanese? I felt a bit like a tourist myself at this stage although consoled myself with the near certainty that I was the only one amongst them who had also been to Bury FC that day.

I have to say that I have no real feelings either way about Manchester United nowadays. Back in the 1990's when they were winning everything under Sir Alex, many non-United football fans held an intense dislike for the club, mostly borne of jealousy probably, and I was no different. But even on a Monday evening in the close season, the weight of football history, legends, victory and tragedy is palpable as you walk around the place. It's hard to explain but I definitely felt it.

By now, I was in danger of turning into a full blown Japanese tourist with selfie stick and half and half scarf so I took one final selfie (doh!) and headed back to the tram stop and a final use of the Wayfarer ticket back into Manchester city centre. 

What a day it had been. I met so many nice people, particularly the kind folk at Bolton, Bury and Oldham, plus the bus drivers who knew what a Wayfarer ticket was supposed to do. Boo to the other bus drivers together with the EV driver who nearly ran me over and whoever it was at Willbuts Lane Chippy who decided that lunch time closing should be at 1.45 pm.

But none of that made the experience any less enjoyable. And as for the ten football clubs I visited? Well, I hate to say it but there can be no doubt that there is something special about Manchester United. And we're all allowed to have a soft spot for a team or teams other than the one we support aren't we? Of course we are, so it was with some relief that I realised the football club that had left the biggest impression on me, during the day, was actually Bury FC. 

Bury FC is the epitome of real football and real football people, a community that very nearly lost its football club but through resolve, dedication and sheer bloody mindedness dragged their club back from the brink. A very special football club that I will hold deep in my heart from this day on.

You may still be asking "why Darren, why"? And I can't really give you a definitive answer. Some people collect stamps, some get their kicks from train spotting and others like visiting JD Wetherspoon pubs. I like visiting football grounds. And besides, what the hell else is a footie fan supposed to do with himself in the close season eh?

June really does have a lot to answer for.

Thanks for reading.

Darren.

Prince Edward Island - Nothing to do with Sheffield Wednesday

Prince Edward Island - the birthplace of Confederation - where, after almost three years of an often difficult gestation period, the infant that was Canada was slapped on the bottom and brought kicking and screaming into this world. Born on the 1st of July 1867, Canada is just sixty five days older than Sheffield Wednesday.

Imagine that, us Brits were forming association football clubs at a time when Canada was barely into nappies, let alone out of them. 

UK podcasters Nick and Amy Thomson continue on their epic road trip around the four provinces of Atlantic Canada, collectively being the Americas closest neighbour to dear old Blighty. Continuing their exploration of Prince Edward Island - Canada's smallest province - this episode is like a relaxation therapy all by itself with its focus on rest, reconnection and nature-led wellness. In fact, it sounds like the perfect place for any Sheffield Wednesday supporters at this particular time in history because we certainly ain't getting much of anything else wellness-wise at the moment.

Basically, it seems like the Prince Edward islanders are the most chilled people on earth and only too happy to invite others to share in their experience.

"We took a walk, ate lobster rolls............and watched the sun go down". 

Ahh, that feels good.

As opposed to watching Sheffield Wednesday go down.

To find out more about this epi-centre of wellness - with absolutely no mention whatsoever of Sheffield Wednesday - click on this link Prince Edward Island - Nothing to do with Sheffield Wednesday, part of the Atlantic Canada podcast series.

Prince Edward Island (phew - not Andrew)

Prince Edward Island (often referred to as PEI) is Canada's smallest province both in land size and population, yet perversely the most densely populated. So presumably its inhabitants live on top of each other, shoulder to shoulder, side by side and in each other's pockets?

No. Don't be daft. This is Canada. Population density on Prince Edward Island is around one tenth that of Great Britain, meaning that they've all got around ten times more space in which to work, rest and play compared to us Brits. Throw in the red sand beaches, stunning sea views and glorious landscapes and one might be forgiven for feeling a teeny bit envious of these lucky Prince Edward Islanders.  

Named after (Queen Victoria's dad) Prince Edward in 1798, another stroke of luck was that it wasn't named after any royals named Andrew.

Prince Edward Island is the second of the four provinces visited by podcasters Nick and Amy Thomson on their epic road trip around Atlantic Canada. Their hectic itinerary included a stay at a Nordic style spa resort, kayaking on a lake explorer tour and learning about the indigenous Mi'kmaq people. Hmm. Doesn't sound too hectic to me. I might be feeling a teeny bit envious about podcast producers now as well. 

Could Prince Edward Island actually be the home of lifestyle and wellness?

What was it that made Nick go all tingly?

Is tetrochromatic really a real word. Really?

How does one pronounce Mi'kmaq?

And is eating cattails as fiendish as it sounds?

For answers to these and other questions, click here to listen to Atlantic Canada - Prince Edward Island, part of the Atlantic Canada podcast series.

Newfoundland and Labrador - The Codfish That Didn't Get Away

I know.........let's go have a picnic at the lighthouse!

Canadian folk are a happy lot. Patriotic, proud and big-hearted, the latter never better evidenced than during the events and aftermath of 11 September 2001 when the small town of Gander, Newfoundland found itself temporary host to seven thousand stranded airline passengers. The hospitality and friendship exhibited by the townsfolk at that time later came to be celebrated in the hit musical Come from Away, a Newfoundland and Labrador term for an outsider or visitor, someone not from the province. 

Podcasters Nick and Amy Thomson were therefore two such "come from aways" as they embarked on an epic road trip around Atlantic Canada, the easternmost region of the country and closest point between Canada and the UK. Visitors they might have been but they were warmly welcomed and all it cost Nick was a snog with a codfish, part of the Newfoundland Screech-In ceremony.

But what is the Newfoundland Screech-In ceremony?

What is Newfoundland Screech?

Why do you always find the locals in the kitchen at parties? 

And will Nick ever learn how to pronounce Newfoundland?

For answers to these and other questions, click here to listen to Atlantic Canada - Come From Away, part of the Atlantic Canada podcast series.

Incidentally, here's a picture of Nick kissing that codfish. Although with that black bin bag it's wearing it looks more like a turtle. The codfish that is. Not Nick. Either way, I'm not sure who is the more disgusted by this act of animal cruelty. Nick, the lady in the background, or the codfish?

Newfoundland and Labrador - and a beer called Dildo

Canada is big. Very big. In fact it's the second largest country in the world by total area, around seventy times larger than the UK although with a population some 30 million less.

Crowded it is not.

Canada is also named as the Most Loved Country in the World 2025 in the most recent RepTrak report (look it up for yourself) as a model nation for stability, quality of life and social justice. It has stunning landscapes, vibrant and modern cities and a people renowned for their friendliness and politeness. 

It is also home to Dildo Brewing Co. 

The Dildo Brewing Co. & Museum is based in the town of Dildo in the Province of Newfoundland and Labrador, one of four provinces - the others being New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island - that form Atlantic Canada, the easternmost region of the country and shortest hop between the UK and the Americas.

Humpback whales have no teeth so how do they chew?

Is Atlantic Canada worth visiting?

Newfoundland and Labrador is the starting point for an epic road trip by podcast producers Nick and Amy Thomson, across the four provinces comprising Atlantic Canada, finding out as much as they can about this least well known and visited part of Canada and asking the all-important questions; 

What's with the Irish accents?

Can puffins really sleep on water?

Do humpback whales have the hump because they have no teeth?

Am I pulling your leg about Dildo beer?

This is the first podcast in a new series called Atlantic Canada. 

Click here to listen Atlantic Canada - Part 1

Happy Heavenly 60th Birthday Trevor Beechey

Ten years ago today.

Pictured left to right, myself, Pat, Neil and Trevor enjoying a

beer in Koh Samui, Thailand celebrating Trevor's 50th birthday.

Still miss you mate.