Manchester
Early October 2018
So I mentioned that things took time, right?
Well, yeah. Amy was required to attend a meeting in Manchester to gain her National Insurance Number in October. But we managed to get a weekend in Manchester out of it, so there’s a silver lining.
Manchester is the heart of the north, so they say. A thriving, red brick, Victorian metropolis, Manchester exudes a confidence and attitude that I was yet to experience in England. Football scarves are everywhere to be seen, streets are constantly bustling, banter abounds, and drink is plentiful. People also seem to acknowledge your existence, unlike in London, which is nice.
We stayed close to the central train station since this was basically a business trip. Arriving from Glasgow in the late afternoon, we quickly went to the nearby Richmond Tea Rooms for a delightful Alice in Wonderland inspired high tea. Not usually my thing whatsoever, I was brought around by delicious scones, superb loose-leaf tea, and pleasant atmosphere. I’d highly recommend spending a slow hour or so taking tea here if you happen to be nearby.
We then headed in to town, and briefly took shelter in the Central Library as a stint of British weather set in. Eventually we somehow ended up in the musical history wing, which was lovely since a number of musicians were rehearsing; one alcove would have a classical pianist, the next a violin soloist, and another would have an insufferable bongo player. It was a rather interesting half hour spent out of the rain.
We then carried on to Deansgate to do a little bit of shopping prior to returning home, both of us being rather spent from a long travel day. No significant purchases were made and our credit cards escaped unharmed.
That evening, we rallied and went to the nearby LGBTQI part of town, primarily situated along Canal Street. The area is colourful and truly fabulous, and many of the street signs appear to have dropped the C, which makes for a humourful walk. For dinner, we stopped by the Molly House for some lovely tapas, craft beer, and wine. We even received a free serve of patatas bravas because they forgot our order – I’m quite sure that free food tastes better, somehow.
Still being unable to escape our tiredness, we returned home to rest. Walking home we spotted the nearby Alan Turing memorial. A charming statue situated in a quiet, out of the way park, it is a fine dedication to his accomplishments and tragic life story.
The following morning, we went to the Northern Quarter; a bohemian mix of eateries, second hand stores and bric-a-brac pop-ups. It had a very Melbourne feel, which was strangely comforting. For breakfast we had an Ulster fry at the Koffee Pot on Oldham Street. For anyone not aware, an Ulster fry is a completely debauched “Big Breakfast” in Northern Irish style – eggs, bacon, sausages, bread, fried bread (soda farl), tomatoes, beans, and black and white pudding. Oh and shame, deep delicious shame.
Sated, we then perused a few second-hand shops. I wasn’t able to really make anything work, but Amy found a pretty sharp denim jacket - one that I continue to be quite jealous of. It's refreshing to see people actually wear different clothes, make-up, and accessories here – there isn’t such a stifling social pressure to ‘fit in’ like I felt there was in Perth – I was certainly one of the thousands of guys rolling around in a blue suit and brown shoes during 2018. Shave your head, wear leather, buy second-hand, get a piercing, be different. Express yourself. It's refreshing.
Later that evening, we did a walking tour of a few craft beer establishments – which is exactly my kind of night out. Starting at Seven Brothers, we moved on to the Port Street Beer House, and finally the City Arms, where we stayed rather late, enjoying many a red ale and stout. Manchester seemed to have a great pub scene and a lot of support for craft beer and local breweries, which I really appreciated.
The next day, Amy went to her meeting, which went off without a hitch. In the meantime, I went to the People’s History Museum, which is uniquely dedicated to the history of the working people in the UK. Since it’s free, it’s certainly worth checking out – that is of course assuming that labour unions and industrial reform interests you like it does me.
Speaking of labour...
So unbeknownst to us, there were national railway strikes occurring all weekend. Upon arriving at Oxford Piccadilly station we were unhappily surprised to find out that our train home was delayed, or cancelled... maybe – please await further instructions. So we stood about with all of the other punters on a cold platform until we found out that our train was indeed going to leave as planned. However, it seemed that it was now every man, woman, and child for themselves. There is a special kind of panic that envelops you when your travel plans go off-piste – is this the right train? Is my ticket still valid? Is this my seat anymore? Who’s in charge? Living in Manchester wouldn’t be so bad, would it?
After stuffing ourselves on-board, we then travelled an hour or so to a nearby town which I can’t remember the name of. We then had to disembark, walk 30 minutes across town, and then catch a second northbound train to Glasgow.
After an exhausting, frantic day of travel, we finally arrived home in Glasgow at about 8pm, having left around noon. Things just take time sometimes, I guess.
But we managed to get a weekend in Manchester out of it…
JC
PS. On our way to Oxford Piccadilly station, we were surprised to see a pop-up Spice Girls exhibition, complete with the Union Jack bus out the front - Amy absolutely had to see it. A diverse collection of outfits, albums, memorabilia, and curios were packed in to Manchester Central – certainly, this was an unexpected and amusing moment during our last few hours in Manchester.
"Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all of one’s life."
Mark Twain
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