B&Bs and Hotels in Manchester

Good Hotel Guide

Hostels and Hotels in Manchester

If you have a hotel in any of these locations then please contact us to list your hotel below, free of charge.

Altrincham, Ashton-in-Makerfield, Ashton-Under-Lyne, Atherton, Bacup, Bolton, Bramhall, Bury, Droylsden, Farnworth, Hazel Grove, Heywood, Leigh, Manchester, Mossley, Oldham, Radcliffe, Rochdale, Sale, Salford, Stalybridge, Stockport, Todmorden, Tottington, Westhoughton

For UK travelers going abroad, we recommend Tenerife, with feel of the UK yet all the sun of Tenerife. Read an extract below from More Ketchup than Salsa, the story of a English couple who left the UK to set up life in Tenerife. Info on how to buy the book can be found below.

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Below you will find short extracts from More ketchup than Salsa by Joe Cawley – not to be missed.

Short Extract

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After she had regained a little composure, she apologised to the rest of us and admitted she needed a break. Although it wasn’t the most convenient time to jump ship, in the middle of the summer season, Faith had decided that she was going back to the UK the following night. She’d spend a fortnight with her mum and then return for the end of the busy period. That left the problem of who would partner David on his shifts. We needed someone who could work 80 hours during the week, someone who could walk straight into the role without training. Michelle was the obvious choice but she wasn’t available for all those hours. Barry was available but wasn’t anywhere near capable. We had less than 24 hours to find someone. If we didn’t, the alternative was to close during the day and the three of us just manage the evening shift. That meant a substantial drop in income at a time when we had to make sure we banked all that we could. If not, when the season slackened we might not have enough to pay the mortgage, Jack’s loan or one of the dozens of other outgoings for which we’d assigned envelopes. It was a basic system but one that we all could manage. From just a handful of different envelopes, our financial distribution now had to be apportioned to almost 20 needs that we had to save for including ‘Holidays’, ‘Emergencies’ and ‘Christmas bonus’. Faith’s disappearance was considered an emergency and as such, it was this envelope that was raided to pay for her flight. The Rum Jug couple were sat at the bar. It was evident from their tired faces that all was not well. The enthusiasm and excitement that they had portrayed in Julie’s office was no longer evident.

Altrincham, Ashton-in-Makerfield, Ashton-Under-Lyne, Atherton, Bacup, Bolton, Bramhall, Bury, Droylsden, Farnworth, Hazel Grove, Heywood, Leigh, Manchester, Mossley, Oldham, Radcliffe, Rochdale, Sale, Salford, Stalybridge, Stockport, Todmorden, Tottington, Westhoughton

Joy had instigated this trend by offering to provide ‘work experience’ to one young holidaymaker who had followed her round all week awestruck, and announced, with all the seriousness that a six-year-old talking about careers could muster, that she intended to be a waitress when she grew up. Naturally this set a trend with other children. ‘Can I help, can I help?’ One week we had a supplementary staff of nine junior Smugglers cleaning tables, washing glasses and delivering a round of drinks – one at a time. In times of extreme business it was helpful to have extra glass collectors but sometimes it wasn’t possible to get behind the bar without trampling on at least a couple of mini recruits. We have a table reserved for eight. Name’s Connaught-Smith.’ The man leaned into Joy as if facial proximity would overcome any possible confusion. He wore beige slacks and a long-sleeved silk shirt topped with a gold cravat. The other members of the party were equally eccentrically attired. One lady wore what appeared to be a resting stoat around her neck. They swept through the bar towards table one like a troupe of variety performers. One of the party made a show of running her finger along one of the tabletops and shared the result, aghast.

Frank was a dour truck driver from Oldham who had brought his kids to Tenerife after separating from his wife. At 49 he had taken early retirement and bought one of the first apartments on El Beril. Along with most of the English-speaking expats – and I’m sure other nationalities as well – he got easily bored. Being bored abroad is a mischievous combination. We had a standard team of barflies, eager to occupy the tedious sunny hours with other people’s concerns. They worked on a rigid two-two formation: Frank would hold the left wing next to the Dorada pump; Al, an alcoholic from Liverpool with a mysteriously large amount of cash and an equal quantity of razor-sharp wit, would provide a constant flow of banter for him to head at whatever target happened to have been chosen that day. At the back, Frank’s son, Danny, would lob the odd remark over his dad’s shoulder or pass it along to his sister, Sam, to dribble with for a while until the two attackers took control. The two kids had tried a term in a local school when they first arrived but didn’t like it and hadn’t been back since. ‘They know enough already, couple of wise-arses,’ Frank would argue when the subject was broached. Since their brief affair with education, they spent much of their time with their dad which, when not fishing, was more often than not on a Smugglers bar stool. Danny probably knew more than us about running the bar, from cocktail recipes to how to change a barrel. Over the first few nights the thirteen-year-old would often help Joy or Faith out in times of crisis. ”Undred ‘n’ fifty pesetas,’ he would demand from customers, his eyes barely level with the black painted bartop. The two girls had been scared out of changing barrels by Frank – ‘Don’t lean over it. Knew a man in England who got his head taken clear off’ – whereas Danny would be only too happy to oblige.