Right then, a cuppa and a confession: I have never once left any of these places empty-handed, and my purse has the receipts to prove it. This is less a list and more a confession of where I go when the archive's gone quiet and I need somewhere with proper shelves (and ideally a biscuit nearby). Chorlton gets the lion's share, naturally; I'm hardly going to trek into town when the good stuff's on my own doorstep. Pop the kettle on and have a browse.