I’ve never talked about this before, but when the time came to discuss moving away from London, I didn’t actually want to leave.

I love London. Ever since I chose to make it my home aged just 22, I became increasingly entangled with the fast, intense pace of life and culture that it offers those willing to adjust to its ceaseless flow. The more I explored and got to know the city, the smaller it began to feel. By the time I went freelance to write about beer full time in 2016, the city truly felt like my own, with each adventure across its vast berth making it feel more and more like the place I thought I’d call home for the rest of my life.

But I had other ambitions, chief among them being to one day own my own home, and maybe not spend the second half of every month skirting around my overdraft limit figuring how to make ends meet. I also had this weird, nagging feeling that maybe there was more to life than this city alone. So I relinquished, and in September 2019, when my feelings towards the city were arguably at their peak, I finally admitted to myself it was time to move on.

My partner, Dianne, and I had a short debate on where we should relocate. She wanted Glasgow, a city she has always loved dearly, and I wanted Leeds, purely because I loved the beer scene there. At least we both agreed on heading in roughly the same direction. Reaching an impasse, we moved onto our second choices. Within seconds of each other we both said “Manchester” before falling silent, and giving each other a long, knowing smile.

I remember well the day we caught the train up to search for a place to rent, because it was in that strange time between lockdowns in the summer of 2020. Masks were worn on the journey, with sandwiches hastily consumed by briefly lifting it away from our jaws before we thought anyone would notice. After spending the afternoon in South Manchester and successfully finding a place to live, we returned to the city centre, and went for a walk around its Northern Quarter.

Located a short stroll from Piccadilly station, the Northern Quarter could be described as a hub for Manchester's arts, culture and music scenes. It’s also home to some excellent pubs, and after a stressful day, I wanted a freshly poured pint of cask ale more than anything. I felt uncomfortable though, with the awkwardness of restrictions weighing on my decision to sit and relax with a beer. That was until we passed Port Street Beer House, and spotted a vacant table outside. We pounced on it quickly, before spending at least 15 minutes trying to connect to the Wi-Fi and download an app so we could order beers to our table, our stress levels escalating as we did so.

Thankfully, we got it all figured out eventually, and moments later two pints of Nelson Sauvin pale ale from Huddersfield’s Mallinsons brewery were delivered to our table. It shone burnished gold as the sun caught the edge of the glass, topped with a generous mound of white foam that drew me towards that first sip. Perfection. And although there were still documents to be signed, deposits to pay, and the logistics of moving our entire lives up the A6 still to navigate, I now look back at it as my first pint as a Manchester resident, because we had by now passed the point of no return.

That was three years ago, and I am pleased to tell you that we followed through on that ambition, and recently bought our own house. This is significant not just as an indicator of how settled we are here in the North West, but because it also feels like a statement – we’ve roots here now. I actually often find myself wishing I’d made the move sooner, but hindsight is always 20:20.

It’s only been a short time, relatively speaking, but I’ve felt my connection to this city deepen rapidly, far more quickly than it did when I lived down south. I consider that this is because I have spent much of my time here experiencing the city through its pubs, bars, and brewery taprooms, sometimes with friends, but often alone, watching people and the world pass by. What I discovered was an attitude to pubs, and beer that was different to what I knew in London.

In Manchester, people seem to almost take the fact the city is home to such an exciting beer and pub culture for granted, as if this is just how it should be. Scratch just slightly below the surface, however, and you’ll find that actually, people take it very seriously indeed. It’s this reason that I felt so compelled to document it and ensure that people – be they local or travelling from further afield – have the means to experience this culture in the same way I have, and all of those who love it like I do.

My new book, Manchester’s Best Beer Pubs and Bars, is a guide, yes, but it’s also my dedication to what I truly believe is the best city to drink beer in within the UK. I hope it helps you experience it in the same way that I have since I decided to call it home.