A Chester City Break

Two Nights, Several Pints and an Accidental Concession

Sometimes the best weekends are the ones you haven't actually planned.

Our latest couple of days away in Chester came courtesy of a mate making what can only be described as a fairly impressive anniversary-related c**k-up.

He'd booked a hotel for himself and his wife to celebrate their anniversary, which was a lovely idea apart from one fairly important detail.

He'd booked the wrong date.

The booking couldn't be cancelled, he couldn't get his money back and they couldn't actually use it, so they had to book somewhere else for the correct date.

The good news, for me at least, was that instead of watching the room go to waste, they gave it to us.

There are times when another man's administrative failure should simply be accepted with gratitude.

So, Wango and Wangirl were off for a couple of nights in Chester.

A Chester City Break That Started in Typical British Summer Weather

We woke up on Thursday morning to discover that British summer had apparently finished for the year.

It was chucking it down.

I have a perfectly serviceable Tranny van that would have got us to Chester without any problems whatsoever, but Wangirl decided this wasn’t for her and we were taking her Mini.

Fair enough, but there was, however, one condition.

I was driving.

I'm quite happy sitting in the passenger seat when circumstances demand it, but given a choice I'd rather be the one holding the steering wheel. Wangirl also argued she is quite capable of driving, although I'm not entirely convinced that six points on her licence strengthens her argument.

So, we set off for Chester in the Mini with me safely in control of proceedings.

Our first stop was Bridgemere Garden Centre for breakfast, where Wangirl had even made sure there was soya milk available because cow's milk and my digestive system have agreed that they're better off living separate lives.

Bless her.

Breakfast also provided our first bit of people-watching for the trip when we spotted a woman casually wandering around Bridgemere carrying a kitten.

Not a dog, or a puppy, but an actual kitten.

Now, I'm no expert on assistance animals, but I'm fairly confident this wasn't a service kitten. If its owner had suddenly keeled over or had a seizure, I couldn't see it springing into action, fetching help or alerting a member of staff. It looked more likely to sit there, lick its bum and wait for someone else to deal with the situation.

I’m sure it was a lovely little thing, but I'm just not entirely sure what it was doing on a day out at a garden centre.

Fed, suitably caffeinated and still slightly confused by the travelling kitten, we carried on towards Chester.

Well… sort of. Because there was somewhere else I wanted to visit first.

You Can't Drive Past a Motorbike Shop

We called in at J&S Accessories in Oakmere, Northwich, and for once I could genuinely claim there was something I needed rather than simply using a motorbike shop as an excuse to look at things.

I'd recently bought a pair of Draggin jeans for shorter runs out when the weather's a bit warmer, but my full sports boots are far too bulky to wear with them. They're great when I'm fully kitted up on the Gixxer, but slightly excessive when you're just heading out for a couple of hours and don't particularly want to walk around looking as though you've come straight off the starting grid.

So, I wanted to have a look at some shorter ankle-style motorbike boots that would work better with the jeans. Naturally, this meant wandering around the rest of the shop as well because no biker in history has ever walked into a motorbike shop, looked exclusively at the thing they came in for and then left.

Somewhere between the boots, helmets, jackets and everything else I didn't technically need, I found a retro racing-style carpet that I thought would look rather good in my kitchen.

Wangirl's response suggested she really didn't share my vision.

Apparently, just because something looks perfectly at home in a garage, workshop or motorbike shop doesn't automatically mean it should be introduced into the kitchen. I remain unconvinced, but we're still fairly new into this relationship and even I know there are times when it's sensible to choose your battles. 🤣

The carpet stayed at J&S.

For now.

Eventually, having looked at considerably more motorbike gear than the single pair of boots I'd gone in to see, we dragged ourselves away and carried on towards Chester.

The Queen at Chester and a Slight Problem With the Bed

Our home for the next couple of nights was The Queen at Chester Hotel, right opposite the railway station.

The hotel was lovely, but our mate's booking skills had delivered one final surprise.

Not only had he booked the wrong date for his own anniversary, he'd booked a twin room as well.

I'm beginning to think the date might not have been the only problem with his anniversary planning.

Thankfully, the receptionist was super helpful, took pity on us and kindly changed it for a double.

The room was perfectly good, and the bathroom was enormous. I'm fairly certain you could have serviced a small hatchback in there with room left over for somebody to hold the torch.

It had a big roll-top bath as well as a shower, and the bathroom genuinely felt almost as big as the bedroom.

We dumped our stuff and headed into Chester to do what we tend to do when we visit somewhere new.

Walk for miles, look at old stuff and eventually find a pub.

Chester Cathedral and an Unsuccessful Attempt at Divine Intervention

Chester is a cracking city if you like history.

There are old buildings everywhere, the Rows, the city walls, the Eastgate Clock and enough interesting architecture to keep you looking upwards rather than where you're walking.

First on our list was Chester Cathedral.

We both enjoy wandering around cathedrals, and I'm always fascinated by the amount of work, skill and craftsmanship that went into buildings created hundreds of years before anyone had power tools.

Somewhere during our visit, I found myself standing next to the font with Wangirl and decided that, while we were there, a little bit of divine intervention probably wouldn't hurt.

Wangirl is actually sick at the moment [insert pathetic cough here, like she usually does 🤣]. She's currently dealing with breast cancer, which I'm sure we'll tell you more about in another blog at some point, but for now we'll leave that particular story there.

So, I blessed her at the font and even said a little St. Wango prayer over her for good measure. Whether I'm officially qualified to perform blessings is probably questionable, but I reckoned whoever was listening would understand the intention.

We're still waiting to see whether it worked, although I'm fairly confident these things don't come with an Amazon-style tracking number.

From there we wandered through Grosvenor Park, headed down towards the River Dee and eventually found The Boathouse, where we had a really good meal overlooking the river.

There were walks along the walls, a proper look at the Eastgate Clock and plenty of wandering through streets where you constantly spot something you'd missed five minutes earlier.

There were also beers… Obviously.

Eventually we made our way back to The Queen, where I made the mistake of ordering a lager and dash for myself and a red wine for Wangirl.

I can't remember whether I actually needed medical assistance when I was told the price, but apparently my face suggested it was a possibility. Where's a service kitten when you need one?

London prices appear to have escaped and made it as far as Chester.

Day Two Started With an Assault on the Senses

The following morning we were up reasonably early and headed back into Chester.

Our route took us through an underpass. Jeez, this was a mistake.

I've worked around cars and engines for most of my life, so I'm familiar with some fairly offensive smells. Old oil, burnt clutches, stagnant coolant, the inside of vehicles whose owners apparently regard cleaning as an infringement of their civil liberties, and even the occasional dead farm animal that's been left festering in the back of a working farm vehicle for longer than anybody really wants to think about.

I've smelt things during my years as a mechanic that would make most people reconsider the benefits of having a functioning nose, but this underpass was in a different league.

Wangirl went a fairly concerning shade of green and increased her walking speed considerably.

For a moment I thought breakfast might be making an unscheduled reappearance.

I promised her we wouldn't go that way again.

Next time we'd take our chances crossing the road.

Death by traffic suddenly seemed the more appealing option.

Sick to Death. Thankfully Just the Museum

Our first proper stop of the day was Sick to Death, a museum in Chester dedicated to the rather gruesome history of medicine, disease and death.

Surprisingly enough, this one was Wangirl's choice, which caught me slightly off guard because when it comes to anything medical, this girl has got the constitution of a Victorian maiden. I've seen the colour drain out of her face at the mere glimpse of an NHS logo, so voluntarily choosing to spend part of our day surrounded by disease, surgery, autopsies and several hundred years of questionable medical practices seemed unusually brave.

To be fair, it's got the makings of a brilliant little museum because the subject itself is fascinating. You can learn about diseases, treatments, how medicine developed and some of the fairly horrifying things people once considered perfectly reasonable healthcare.

There is, however, a lot of information to take in, with a huge amount of reading as you make your way around.

If you're somebody who enjoys reading every panel in a museum, you could probably disappear in there for hours.

If, like me, you're dyslexic and faced with wall after wall of text, there comes a point where your brain starts looking for an emergency exit.

They've made efforts to make parts of it interactive, and I think even more of that would make it much easier to take everything in, because there's some genuinely interesting stuff there.

For the price, though, it was well worth doing and certainly different from your standard museum visit.

After spending the morning learning about disease, questionable medical procedures and various historic ways humans have managed to die, we decided it was time for something slightly more cheerful.

War.

Two Concessions, Apparently

Next up was the Cheshire Military Museum.

This was my choice and, as it turned out, one of our favourite parts of the trip.

Before we'd even bought our tickets, though, Wangirl and I were having a disagreement about age.

We're both 51 and she is, technically, older than me.

Only by a few days, but facts are facts… She’s OLDER!

Her argument is that because I've got grey hair, I look considerably older than she does.

My argument is that she's still older.

We were continuing this highly mature discussion as we reached the counter when the bloke serving us looked at the pair of us and said:

“Two concessions then?”

There are moments when life hands you comedy so perfectly timed that there's absolutely no point trying to improve it.

We accepted our concessions.

I'm not proud.
Actually, that's b*ll**ks, I was delighted.
However, we did put an extra few quid in the charity box as we passed.

The museum itself was excellent, covering the history of Cheshire soldiers across several centuries, and there was loads to look at without it feeling as though you needed to read a textbook beside every display.

The chap working there was brilliant too. He gave us loads of information, clearly knew his stuff and was happy to chat rather than just point us towards the next room.

I even found somebody I knew listed on one of the honours displays, which made the whole thing feel unexpectedly personal. Especially when you haven't spoken to them in years and you send them a photo of their name on a wall.

Apparently being mistaken for a pensioner has its benefits.

Don't tell Wangirl I said that. She's older than me.

Chester Is Very Good at Distracting You

The rest of the afternoon involved exactly the sort of wandering around that makes a city break good.

We found some lunch, walked along the canal, explored more of Chester and indulged in one of our favourite hobbies.

People watching.

Give two Gen Xers a seat, a drink and a steady supply of strangers walking past and you've basically provided several hours of free entertainment.

There was the bloke whose walking style can only really be described as a human snowplough because both feet appeared determined to clear separate paths through Chester.

Then there was a lad playing pool who looked so thoroughly fed up with the people he was with that we became slightly concerned he was going to start advertising for replacement mates before the game had finished.

People are fascinating when they don't know you're watching them.

Eventually we headed back to the hotel, showered, changed and prepared ourselves for another evening exploring Chester's drinking establishments.

Purely for research purposes.

Ask for the Caretaker

One of the places we ended up was Liquor & Co on Watergate Street.

There's something you need to know about this place.

If you go in after 7pm, ask to see the caretaker.

I'm not going to tell you exactly what happens because that rather spoils the point, but it's worth doing.

There are some experiences that are considerably better when you don't know what's behind the door beforehand.

We also found an 80s bar, which meant I was immediately in my natural habitat.

I love 60s, 70s and 80s music, and once they started playing the stuff I grew up with, they were going to struggle to get rid of me.

Then Boney M came on.

Now we're talking.

Some blokes pretend their musical taste consists entirely of serious rock bands, obscure albums and artists you've never heard of.

Not me.

Put a bit of Boney M on and I'm perfectly happy. 🤣

There were drinks, a lot of laughs and another evening where neither of us seemed particularly interested in keeping an eye on the clock.

One person also made an unexpected new best friend.

The Greatest Bouncer in Chester

At some point during the evening we headed towards another bar on Watergate Street, Watergates Bar.

The bouncer asked us both for ID before he'd let us in. Now, given that we're both 51, I think we can safely assume this was policy rather than either of us having experienced some miraculous overnight reversal of the ageing process.

Wangirl didn't give a t*ss about the technicalities. As far as she was concerned, she'd been asked for ID at 51 and that was all the information she needed. The bouncer immediately became her favourite person in Chester, possibly knocking me down another place in the rankings while he was at it.

I suspect she'll still be telling people about it when she's 80.

She'll probably still have the ID ready as well.

The Morning After the Night Before

The following morning, something unusual happened.

Wangirl drove.

This was entirely unrelated to the previous evening's refreshments, obviously.

I was perfectly fine… absolutely fine.

I simply decided it would be nice for her to enjoy driving her own Mini for a change.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Before heading home we somehow found ourselves back at J&S Accessories, this time for breakfast.

Yes, we'd already been there once.

No, apparently that wasn't enough.

A man can spend a surprising amount of time looking at motorbike gear he still doesn't technically need.

The racing carpet was still there too.

I'm just saying.

Sometimes Someone Else's C**k-Up Works Out Rather Well

So, cheers to our mates for the unexpected Chester break, and perhaps next anniversary they might want to double-check the date before pressing Book Now.

Or don't. We quite enjoyed ourselves.

If you've got any ideas for where Wangirl and I should visit next, come and let me know over on Built By Wango on Facebook. We're always up for somewhere with a bit of history, something interesting to see, a decent pub nearby and, if I'm lucky, a motorbike shop somewhere along the route.

Although apparently Wangirl has already got her eye on a damn pencil museum in the Lakes. 🤷🏻

A pencil museum.

I'm beginning to think the kitten at Bridgemere wasn't the strangest thing about this trip after all.