The Methodists fought a characterful battle for the soul of NG2. A century ago Wesleyan influence was such that if you were screaming for a decent pint you were more likely to find one in Rawalpindi than West Bridgford, once a powerhouse of dissenting Christian respectability.

Things have changed in the age of the Sunday morning lie-in. With its overload of bars and restaurants, the once-dry Central Avenue can now give ever-thirsty NG1 a run for its money for the ingestion of strong drink on hot summer nights.

The Methodist Church in West Bridgford’s slightly right-on Trentside enclave of Lady Bay has also changed character. After a spell as a cycle shop and café, the building on Trent Boulevard, dating from 1901, is now the pizza parlour Holy Calzone. And may the Lord forgive any exploitation of the premises’ history.

I dropped by during a sunny autumn stroll through Lady Bay, and very pleasant the neighbourhood is: lots of handsomely-mullioned early 20th-century homes, a smattering of little shops, riverside dog-walks; it is a few minutes from central Nottingham yet on the edge of cowpat country.

I’m not sure about all those medium-rise flats under construction across the river and the parish would be massively improved by a return to 1950s car ownership levels, but if you put a gun to my head and told me to reside in Lady Bay for my remaining years, I wouldn’t sulk for long.

Holy Calzone’s owners have wisely given the place some easy-wipe flooring, given West Bridgford mothers’ not-universally-appreciated habit of parading their tots in public dining rooms.