THE Pub Column never sleeps. Even though Yours Truly was on a welcome holiday break from Castle Greyskull, the spare time was put to good use, boldly going to boozers that other columns cannot reach.
The first expedition as the week dawned was with The Old Man into the oyster bed of pubs in the wilds of West Lancashire.
Up to now, this has always trawled up pearls.
Old favourites such as the Eagle and Child in Bispham Green were there for the taking, but as regulars readers will know, we’d already "had her" to use PC parlance.
We were looking for something new ' but surprisingly this time there was an empty catch.
This was because so many of what looked like hostelries with potential seemed to be closed during the day. It was hard to deduce whether this was due to their relatively isolated location, the time of the week or even the season.
However, later in the week a far more adventurous trip appropriate to holiday time was undertaken ' and this one cut the mustard.
This time the occasional PC companion, Lady Janet of Crockie Park, dusted down her own jalopy to transport Yours Truly for a day out far beyond the boundaries of our own galaxy to a pub in Littleborough, a village just outside Rochdale.
"Rochdale!!!!???" you might roar incredulously like the Scouse kid in the Reds’ shirt used to squawk "Accrington Stanley!!??" in the old TV milk advert.
Well, by car and a journey largely confined to motorway, Rochdale and Littleborough are only a mere hour’s drive away even by milady’s pootering standards.
The reason for the visit was simple.
Yours Truly had previously recommended the pub after consulting the Good Pub Guide as a handy stop-off spot for a trip that she and her friends, The Girls, were making to see Smokie in Yorkshire (stifled laughter ' Good Taste Ed).
Incidentally, when told of the name of their destination, they had curiously exclaimed "Oooo, yes please!!!" before collapsing in a heap of giggles like a gaggle of naughty schoolgirls.
The Moorcock Inn subsequently proved worthy of their enthusiasm and Lady Janet was keen to show me why.
A large former farmhouse built in 1641, it is blessed with spectacular views (from its platformed beer garden) of the Pennine fells, especially in the summer months when it’s a veritable honey pot.
Even better is that, while being very much a foodies pub with a reputation for serving quality but cheap food in huge portions, it hasn’t lost its identity as a traditional alehouse.
"You get the best of both worlds here," said Allan Ashworth who, with wife Pauline, has run the Moorcock for the past eight years.
We plumped for the side of the building that housed its traditional pub identity with low beams and stone clad floors chomping on a large plate of bangers and mash while supping one of the four beautifully kept real ales.
One of these was a gorgeous, refreshingly fruity, concoction called Brewer’s Gold, made by the locally based Picktish Brewing Company, which even the Lady teetotaller smacked her lips over after taking a large sip.
And talking of Reds’ shirts, there’s a framed one signed by the likes of Phil Thompson and Steve Staunton hanging from the bar which Mancunian Allan won on one of his regular trips over here.
Through his football contacts, this has been joined by those of many other legends, including a Real Madrid shirt worn and signed by Zidane.
But even without the footie connection the Moorcock both shoots ' and scores.
Make it your long range goal.
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