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I couldn’t put it better myself….

I had my first proper trip out today since the accident. I did try going to the big, local ASDA last Friday but it was a bit of a failure. It’s a huge store and the method I was trying to use to get about (using the crutches to throw my entire weight forward while keeping my bad foot and the moon boot off the ground) was exhausting. I had to give up and ended up sat on a bench outside the Barclay’s Bank concession with two old ladies who had bad legs as well. They must meet there regularly, ‘ooooo look’ they said ‘we’ve got a fella!’ 

There’s no pain when I put my foot on the ground in or out of the boot now but walking normally is impossible. But I can do it with the help of the crutches and it’s a lot less exhausting than my previous method. So we had a little trip out. I went round the little Sainsbury’s in Culcheth and enjoyed it. I never thought I’d look at a trip to a supermarket as a pleasure.

And we went to Bent’s, the wonderful garden centre near Culcheth just before you get to the East Lancs Road. It was all ready for Christmas and I enjoyed taking these pictures of their display. They are always worth a visit. They do these beautifully decorated trees. With an average price of about £6 an ornament we reckon it would cost £1000s to do an entire tree. 

It was weird, at my age, to find that people were holding doors open for me and stepping out of my way so I could get about. Very kind of them but I didn’t expect to be here for decades! Hopefully by Christmas I’ll be the one stepping out of people’s way and holding doors for them as they get about on crutches. And I hope I will get a chance to see at least some of the Christmas Markets in Manchester. They open soon and I love to visit them but it will be difficult with the crowds and the huge number of stalls that are stretched through the city centre.

I had my first mince pie of the season at Bents and a delicious coffee. I arrived home and wasn’t exhausted as well. Some of the pictures might be a bit fuzzy. It’s hard to hold a phone camera and balance on your crutches at the same time I’ve found!

Still stuck in the house with a broken ankle so….

It’s will come as no surprise to regular readers of this blog that I’m a great fan of Manchester. I’ve lived here all my life but have had the good fortune to have visited some the great cities of the world, London, Paris, Rome, New York, San Francisco, and very fine they are but nothing quite works for me and feels better than touching down at Manchester Airport or arriving at Piccadilly Station and coming home.

Over the life of this blog I’ve been marking the redevelopment of the city and, what I’ve posted on it, is really the tip of the iceberg of what is actually going on. If I were to follow every development it would be a full time job and I’d need staff to keep up. And the developments in Manchester have happened at a time when the world was in the biggest economic slump since the 1930s. Other cities in the UK may be doing well but Manchester, along with London, seems to have become almost recession proof. The building projects slowed down in the depths of the recession but never stopped. Apart from one year, 2011, the economy grew, sometimes spectacularly, 9.6% in 2013. New businesses are opening and thriving and the population is going up. We seem to have got into a virtuous circle where a thriving economy attracts more business, more wealth and so on. The increasing number of hotels are full and, always an indicator of a sucessful city, people eat out on a Tuesday night in well supported restaurants.

However, not everyone shares my enthusiasm for the developments. Some think the city is going in the wrong direction. There seem to be three arguments against the current spate of development of the city. One, the developments are only aimed at the affluent part of the city that can enjoy them and some people in the city can never afford to eat in the high end restaurants or shop in the likes of Selfridges and Harvey Nichols. Two, the city centre is pushing at its traditional boundaries and is spilling over into the surrounding suburbs, displacing the local population who can never afford to buy into the skyscraper apartment blocks rising around them. Three, Manchester is becoming a city like any other the world over with a style of architecture that would fit in any city from Melbourne to Vancouver via Hong Kong and Saõ Paulo and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Before I address those three points, a little history lesson. As I understand it, in Georgian times, Manchester was a small, well built, prosperous market town. Little of that town remains, a rather grand house on King Street (now the Jack Wills store) and a few houses along St. John Street and a scattering of buildings across the Northern Quarter.

Then the Industrial Revolution happened Manchester found itself at the centre of a region that was perfect for the production of cotton. Within a few decades the city exploded, Georgian Manchester was swept away to make way for Cottonopolis. I wonder if there were people about then bemoaning the destruction of the Georgian town? The population grew and grew and the city spread to swallow the surrounding fields, villages and hamlets. It might have made a lot of money but it wasn’t pretty. Stung by accusations of ‘Philistinism’, the Manchester cotton barons looked around at what they had created and saw that it was not good. There followed a period when the city built many of its most iconic buildings like the Town Hall, the Royal Exchange and the great commercial buildings along the likes of Princess, Whitworth and Oxford Streets. Cultural institutions like the museums and galleries and the Hallé Orchestra were set up. It must have been a building boom like we are experiencing now, if not greater.

It was in this period that the city centre grew to fill its current boundaries, roughly an area between the River Irwell and the railway viaducts that skirt the southern edge of the centre still. By 1914, Manchester was a global city, the population of what is now Greater Manchester making it the 9th largest city on the planet and controlling the world’s lucrative cotton industry. In the summer of 1914 they must have thought it would last for ever.

But it didn’t. Other countries began to produce cotton more cheaply. Slowly at first, the cotton industry began to die, taking with it the engineering industries that supported it. World War II happened and the city suffered badly in raids by the Luftwaffe. After the war the decline of the cotton industry sped up and while German cities rebuilt by restoring what they could of their former glory, British cities went in for the brave new world look with cities carved up to accommodate cars and the brutalism of 1960s architecture. Manchester was not immune.

By the 1980s vast swathes of former industrial land had been abandoned and the population of the city had declined as people moved to more prosperous parts of the country in the search for work. By 1990 the city had lost 500,000 people from its pre World War II height of 2.7million. Politicians in London were talking about the ‘planned decline’ of Manchester and the other northern cities. Chilling phrase.

Manchester was having none of this ‘planned decline’ and over the last thirty years has fought back hard to restore its former position. And it has worked. Building on its strengths, every artisan coffee shop to the new cultural infrastructure has added to Manchester’s attractiveness as a place to live, work and do business. Manchester regularly appears near the top of lists of cities to visit, live in and do business. No longer is Manchester looked at as a place to go to and get out of as fast as you can. We have become a success. And we have the problems of success which, as one of the city fathers pointed out, are a damn sight better to deal with than the problems of failure.

And I think, at this point, it’s probably a good idea to define what Manchester actually is. Is it the sliver of land that runs down the centre of Greater Manchester from, roughly, Prestwich in the north to Manchester Airport in the south with a population of about 520,000? Or is it the ten local authorities, with a shared interest, that make up the continuous urban area that runs from Wigan in the west to the Pennines in the east. From the old cotton towns of Lancashire in the north to the plush Cheshire suburbs in the south, with a population of 2.7 million? I’ve always though the latter and that view has been reinforced recently by the election of a Mayor for Greater Manchester. And people from outside of Greater Manchester regard Manchester as the wider urban area. You live in Leigh/Oldham/Rochdale? Where’s that? Near Manchester? I know about that place! Some areas of Greater Manchester are fiercely independent but there is an acceptance that we will all be more prosperous and be able to make out voice heard in places like Westminster if we all shout together.

But to return to people’s concerns about the direction of development in Manchester. First is that some local people aren’t able to join and enjoy the new developments in the city. They don’t see the shops as places they can go, they don’t eat in the restaurants, they don’t visit the theatres and cultural attractions. Of course it may be that these things don’t appeal to them and are not things that are a part of their culture. That’s fine of course. I’m not into cage fighting and have no desire to be part of that culture but some people enjoy it. The more common reason given is that they are poor and can’t afford to do these things. And certainly, to enjoy some of the things on offer in Manchester you are going to have to flash the cash. But that’s the same of any city anywhere I suspect. It’s actually a very simple and, at the same time, a very difficult problem to solve.

The renaissance of Manchester as a city has attracted new businesses to the city and created new job opportunities. These are not all zero hours jobs with Uber and the like, many are well paid with all the advantages that implies. These jobs are sucking in determined, educated people from Manchester and, increasingly, from other places, coming here to put down roots and make a life. That people from certain parts of the city aren’t able to access these jobs is they lack the education and skills to get them. Not everyone can get out of poverty by being a Premiership footballer or being lucky on the lottery. The way forward is through education for the majority of us. Go to school, learn to read, write and do maths, throw in a smattering of other subjects, work hard at GCSE level, do some A levels, access some higher education, learn a bit about the wider culture of the world, present yourself well at interview and get one of those jobs. Simple.

But, for some, it’s not that simple of course. I’m pretty sure that the amount the government spends on the education of a child in Knutsford is the same as spent on a child in north Manchester. But the outcomes for those children can be radically different. Of course the parents of the Knutsford child could afford to hire a tutor to bump up the grades of their child before GCSE. They might donate some cash to the school for a new computer suite as well. But the main reason a child in Knutsford does well is that the culture of the family matches that of the school. The Knutsford child has from an early age been told, either overtly or subliminally, that they will do well if they work hard. They will have a home full of books, parents will take an interest in their education, homework will be done, there will be trips to museums and galleries, places of historical and geographical interest. They will be talked to and included in conversations about things that we value as a society, the kind of things that lead to being successful in life. They will sample interesting foods in restaurants, they will be taken abroad where they will explore different cultures. They will be told they will be a success, by school and home, and we shouldn’t be surprised if that’s what they become.

Of course there will be homes in north Manchester where that culture exists even if it’s not as well financed as that in Knutsford. And the children in those homes will go on to have successful lives as well. But in some homes in north Manchester the culture runs contrary to that of the schools. Education isn’t really seen as a way of improving yourself even though, if you ask, they will say it is. The parents don’t really believe it because, possibly, it didn’t happen for them. Children from Knutsford and north Manchester are going to rebel of course, with that rebellious period coming, usually, in the vital period up to the vital GCSE stage. But, your Knutsford kid, pushing the boundaries and developing independence, will always have it at the back of his/her mind that education matters. Sadly, too many children in north Manchester don’t have that. Many do worse at GCSE level than their contemporaries in more favoured suburbs and by the time they have matured and realised the opportunity missed they are on the back foot and losing in the race for the good jobs with Mr/Miss/Ms Knutsford.

Quite how you get the kids in north Manchester to wise up I’m not sure. Some say the teachers need to do more. Having teachers in my family, I’m at a loss to see how they can do more. Throwing money at the problem doesn’t seem to work either. I’m sure that the parents of north Manchester kids want them to do well but don’t seem to know how to do it as effectively as the parents in Knutsford (could be Hale, Bowden, Didsbury, Chorlton of course). How we can get inside the culture of an area and change it to one that truly sees education as a way forward and out of poverty and get to a point so they can afford a meal in Iberica, Manchester House,The Ivy etc. I really don’t know. But if the people of less favoured parts of the city are to be included in its success that a lot of us enjoy, someone is going to have to grasp that nettle.

The second point people are concerned about is the expansion of the city centre. I may be wrong but what we have defined as the city centre was cemented in the years running up to World War I. After that event Manchester began a slow decline with the demise of the cotton industry and the city centre stopped expanding with places like the one we now call the Northern Quarter actively going into decline. World War II destroyed parts of the city centre and the further decline of traditional industries left swathes of the city centre abandoned.

With the renaissance of the city the decline has been reversed. Old buildings have been repurposed and the ‘zombie’ car parks have all but disappeared. Spectacular so at Greengate, opposite Manchester Cathedral where it looks like a completely different city from 5 years ago. The developments are a mixture of business and residential with the tallest ones built, going up and planned, being apartment blocks. And apartment blocks for the well heeled people who have the well paid jobs in Spinningfields and Media City. Why aren’t they building things for families and local people they cry? Well, the figures don’t add up. I read somewhere that land values in Manchester now match Manhattan. Build a couple of semi detached on land in Manchester city centre and the prices would make an oligarch blanch. That’s why Manchester now, like New York did, is developing upwards. The people who are buying or renting the apartments want to because they are close to the city centre where the amenities and lifestyle they want is happening so the developers are simply addressing a demand.

Why not family accommodation like you see in city centres in continental European cities? Because we don’t have that tradition. Well off young people enjoy the city centre lifestyle for a few years here but when that first baby appears they’re off the Chorlton and Didsbury for a nicely converted semi, a garden, good schools and a tram station to get them into town when needed. As for building for local people see section on education above. Though I do accept that it would be a good idea to have more integrated communities.

But we do seem to have got to a point where the traditional city centre is, mostly, fully developed and it is bursting it’s constraints. It’s looking for new places to spread. Greengate was mentioned. Across the entire length of Great Ancoats Street into Angel Meadow and the Irk Valley, Ancoats and New Islington, down Oxford Road to meet the universities coming up it, into Hulme along First Street and the massive developments around Owen Street and towards Ordsall. These areas are changing as a result. This is what happens when cities grow and are successful. It is nothing to be afraid of and should be embraced. True, some people will see their area change and people only seem to like change when it’s happening somewhere else and not outside their front door. What we are seeing in Manchester is Human Geography in action turning rundown areas like Ancoats into successful parts of the city.

And for those people afraid of the change I can only see more of the same as the city centre expands. I can see it happening in Ardwick beyond Mayfield, along Upper Brook Street towards the universities, from Ancoats to the Etihad Stadium and along City Road into Pomona Docks where the developing city centre will eventually meet and join up with the expanded Salford Quays. This development of the city is good and infinitely better than the decline we had only thirty years ago.

The third concern is the style of the buildings being put up. Manchester doesn’t have a style or an era that defines the city. We are not spectacularly Georgian like Bath or quaintly medieval like York. The closest we ever got to that was Victorian gothic but the Luftwaffe and 1960s planners did for that. Manchester’s charm lies in its eclectic mix of buildings, you wander about and suddenly come across something totally unexpected. Now into this mix we have now had thrown an awful lot of early 21st century towers and the like. And I do. Especially where the old is in juxtaposition with the new like with the John Rylands Library and the Armani Store building, Central Library facing No 1 St. Peter’s Square and the long Victorian horizontal of the railway buildings along Deansgate ended by the emphatic vertical of the Hilton Tower. All good stuff IMHO.

We are told we are, again, a global city, with aspirations to be a top 30 global city within a couple of decades with all the benefits, and problems I suppose, that might entail. To do this we need to have people come here to invest and see us as a viable alternative to London, Paris and other European cities. These people, with the influence and cash to invest, expect to see certain things. They expect a city that has great amenities which Manchester does. And they expect a city to make a great first impression. It’s like being on a first date or going for an interview. The first minutes really counts. For Manchester that means possible suitors landing at a world class airport and driving into a city with an emphatic skyline that says ‘success’. And that means towers, tall gleaming ones that catch the sun (when we have it) and radiate light at night. They see them in other sucessful cities and expect them to be in Manchester. We do have a world culture now and we shouldn’t be surprised if that stretches to architecture. And, to be honest, in spite of the towers, there is still a lot of old Manchester left. Once that first impression has been made we can then introduce them to our more low key attractions and woo them over so they set up business.

I’ve always been a fan of good architecture and firmly believe that everything that is built, be it a retail shed or a gleaming skyscraper should be built to the highest possible standards. Sadly, not everyone shares my opinion. Where things are not done that way we should not be afraid to say so and get people to change where necessary. We’ve just done that with the Booth Street development where even little me did his part by tweeting and blogging about a very ill conceived scheme. I wasn’t able to change people’s minds over the Central Library blob though.

I think every new scheme needs to be looked at on its merit. People complain there is too much glass and steel in Manchester. Possibly. But I have to say I’m a fan of the corporate perfection of Spinningfields and, judging by the number of people enjoying it, I’m not alone. I love the contrast between that and the dignity of civic Manchester, not far away around Albert and St. Peter’s Squares and the funky, chaos of the Northern Quarter. I take visitors to all three and they leave feeling that have been to three separate cities and love that the city is so diverse. Places like Spinningfields have added to the city’s architectural lexicon, not degraded it. People should remember what the area was like before.

So let’s not be afraid of the new. Keep what is good of the past but let’s not get stuck with the idea that just because something is old it has to be kept. I’ll lie in front of any bulldozer or wrecking ball headed towards Central Library, the Midland Hotel or one of the great cotton warehouses of Cottonopolis. But an unremarkable, brick built building in Piccadilly Basin? Just because it was old? I was more concerned about the future of the thriving sandwich business inside it. Choose you battles. Ancoats Dispensary…yes! Unremarkable buildings of little architectural merit, not so much.

Final point. Manchester has a north south divide. Of the ten boroughs that make up Greater Manchester, the southern ones, Salford, Trafford, Manchester, Stockport and Tameside have a GDP that will not look out of place in the Home Counties. The northern boroughs, Wigan, Bolton, Bury, Oldham and Rochdale have a GDP of about half that of the southern part of the city. Of course there are pockets of poverty in the south and some very affluent areas in the north. But we do have that north/south divide. It does need to be tackled, hopefully with the north of the city being brought up to the levels of the south.

It’s a difficult one. Manchester city centre is always going to attract the big cultural and business concerns and well to do people are going to want to live there where they can enjoy the lifestyle. Not every borough can have an international airport or the BBC setting up shop attracting 1000s of well paid jobs. There’s a limit to the number of world class universities or football clubs one city can have. We need, as a city, to work together to see what we need to do to develop and prosper and how each of the different boroughs can develop to add to the prosperity of the city and its people as a whole. Housing in south Manchester is expensive, in the north less so, what could be done to develop a Chorlton or Didsbury in Rochdale or Oldham? How could we improve communication links so people living in one place could work in another. What can we do to bring brownfield sites into productive use again as places to live and work? How should we develop the tram system? Do we make the best use of brownfield sites along motorways?  The RHS is building a world class garden complex in Worsley, what other attractions do we need to attract people to visit the city and live here?

How can this be achieved? I have no idea or simple fixes. I’m hoping people far more clever and connected than me are working on it.

Lovely picture of fast developing Manchester by Ed Howe, or VDB, of the Skyscrapercity Forum, he is passionate about Manchester and works hard to promote the city. Log on to the site and see what he does. It’s wonderful. Hope he doesn’t mind me using his picture as I can’t get out to take my own for the foreseeable future!

I have a lot of time on my hands these days while I recover from my broken ankle. And there’s only so much day time TV you can watch! I’m a bit more mobile around the house but getting out is still difficult. The calf of my left leg is wasting away through lack of use, it’s going to take some physio to get it back to the standard of my good leg. On the positive side the crutches are doing wonders for my biceps. The guns are looking good!

I’ve started shopping on the Internet to pass the time. An order went into Marks & Spencer’s this afternoon and in the week I sent an order into myoddballs.com for some new underpants. I don’t need any really but they had some new designs. myoddballs.com is a company that produced pants and, increasingly, other stuff for guys. The attraction is that a percentage of their profits go into a foundation that invests into research into male specific cancers. Supported by a lot of the U.K.’s rugby teams (a game played by men with odd shaped balls) they sell mostly online but they do have a mobile store that visits big games around the country. Their pants are fun and comfortable. Here’s this morning’s delivery of pants.

I bought a top that I can wear while I’m stuck at home with my broken ankle and will look good at the gym when I get back to it to build up my damaged leg.

And I got a free OBBLE hat to keep me toasty warm in the coming colder months.

The pants come in these packets with information on the back, and funny facts, about how to check yourself for testicular  cancer. If you’re a guy reading this follow the advice and have a bit of a check. It could save your life. And, with Christmas coming up, maybe the guys in your life might like to find a couple of pairs of fun pants I n their Christmas stocking. They start with oddballs pants for guys from about 12 upwards (testicular cancer can affect guys in their early teens who may not even realise something is wrong) and they have a range for even younger guys called Goolies. 

I had my first trip out yesterday since I got back from hospital after my ankle op. OK, it was back to the hospital for a check up on progress but it was out! Here I am with the cast in the Fracture Clinic at Wythenshawe Hospital. I hoped I could hop out of the car at the door but Wythenshawe is having a building programme and a new A&E dept is going up so I had to cope on my crutches for a 100m or so. Something that I wouldn’t have thought of 3 weeks ago seemed like an expedition to the North Pole! And I’m in shorts in October!

First it was into a treatment room to have the cast removed. I was worried about that. I’d heard stories of the hairs on guy’s legs getting set into the plaster and being ripped out when the plaster comes off. I’m not excessively hairy but there’s enough there to make me wince if they were to be torn out. Fortunately the technology has moved on and there was no pain. I was surprised to find that they had operated on both sides of my ankle. This is what it looked like after the cast was taken off. Once a nurse had cleaned the dried blood it looked very neat. The surgeon, Miss Fox, who did it was pleased with how neat she had made it. I’m pleased she had done it. She exudes confidence and sincerity.

After that it was down to the X-ray department to have it photographed. They fitted me with my moonboot and I was left to make my own way down on crutches. Sounds a bit harsh but, as a guy, I like that they let me do stuff by myself. X-rays are all computerised now of course. Gone are the days when they had to be developed with chemicals and there was a wait. Mine were sent to Miss Fox’s iPad before I’d even left the X-Ray suite and she declared herself happy with the progress when I got back. I tried to see them on screen before I left but it was on the other side of the room. But the X-Ray lady was impressed with the amount of metal in my ankle. Next time I’m going to have a look.

I was brought home by Suneil. I’m starved of human contact at the moment and we got talking. He didn’t have a Manchester accent and I wondered where in the world he’d come from. I suspected Greece. Right direction but add a 1000 miles or so. He was from Kurdistan. When he was 18 he was about to be conscripted into Sadaam Hussein’s army. As a Kurd that wouldn’t have gone well for him. His family decided to put him on a plane and at 19 he found himself in Heathrow Airport, London without a plan and not knowing a person in the UK. He found a policeman. In Iraq he would have got a good kicking so he was worried about approaching a British policeman. He was surprised to be bought a cup of tea, some food and, while he ate that, the police found people who could help him. Suneil has a high regard for British policemen and women. He was put in a taxi and sent to Portsmouth where an organisation exists that helps guys in his position. They helped him claim political asylum because his life was in danger in Iraq. He’s now a British citizen and told me with relish how he’d enjoyed cutting up his old Iraqi passport. He moved up to Manchester and now lives in Warrington to the west of the city. Kurdistan is the part of Iraq that has, mercifully, escaped the worse of the wars that have blighted that part of the world and seems to be thriving. They have even stood up to ISIS. Suneil is a Muslim person but wears his religion lightly, in fact he’s come to the conclusion that religion isn’t one of mankind’s better ideas. He likes a glass of wine and is a great fan of whisky. He loves living in the UK. 

I’m on an, enforced, hiatus from my blog. On the 7th of this month I was heading into the city to get some Euros and buy a couple of last minute things for the Barcelona trip. I parked up near Chorlton tram station. It’s Autumn. Leaves are falling. We get annoyed when the train companies cancel trains due to ‘leaves on the line.’ They now have my sympathy. I was crossing a damp pavement, in new shoes with perfect tread, and my feet went from under me and, before I knew it, I was on the ground.

No pain but looking down my leg and the weird angle my foot was at to it, told me that things weren’t OK. Two guys from a local car workshop heard me shouting and came. They called the ambulance and I was taken off to Wythenshawe Hospital. I’d obviously dislocated my ankle. People complain about our health service but I couldn’t fault it. I was in the resus dept in minutes and being seen to. A young looking doctor said ‘you can say ‘No’ as I’ve never put a dislocated ankle back in place before but I’d appreciate it if you would let me do yours.’ A more qualified doctor was on hand to watch and advise. It’s seems a dislocated ankle is either rare or fun to watch and I gathered quite an audience to see the procedure including the two paramedics who brought me in. I was, by now, high on gas and air. I heard myself say ‘They’ve broken out the good stuff now!’ The young doctor went to work. At first there was no pain, but, as the ankle slipped back into position no amount of gas and air was going to shield me from that. The second doctor found himself firmly gripped and I suspect he may have suffered bruising. I think I may have assaulted a National Health Service employee!

X-Ray revealed two fractures and the following day I had an op. My ankle is full of plates and screws and I’m dragging a huge weight around on the leg. The surgeon declared she was happy. Doctors never say stuff like that unless they really mean it. The anaesthetist gave me the impression that I would be lucky to wake up at all. As it was I woke up in a recovery room with a wall of luridly coloured landscapes and thought that was what heaven, or the other place, looked like.

The next morning they had me up on my feet getting about on crutches. I wasn’t brilliant and they tried me on a Zimmer frame, the kind you see be very old people using, and decided I was having one of them. I blame the drugs. No way was that Zimmer frame coming home with me! I’m 50 years away from that as far as I’m concerned! I got them to come back the next day and convinced them I was a lot better, and cooler, on crutches. 

I got out last Wednesday. I was in a little room with an interesting guy called Duncan. Duncan has an infection in his foot, a bad one. He has no idea where he got it from, the most exotic place he’s been recently is Wales! He’d had an op and they were washing the wound through with a constant drip of antibiotics. He has an office job in Warrington but also helps run a well thought of tattoo parlour in Manchester and is a musician. We were in there together, two guys used to doing stuff for ourselves suddenly having to rely on everyone else for the simplest thing. That’s difficult for a guy. We did a lot of talking and I got to see, those hospitals gowns are totally inadequate, all his tattoos and good much more besides. No doubt he saw more of me than I’d usually show a guy on such a short relationship. But being in a place like that you soon develop an intimacy that might take months or years outside. I escaped first but, hopefully, Duncan, won’t have been far behind me. When we are both back to normal I’m going to one of his concerts. In the meantime here’s some of his music. He does have a great voice.

So I’m home and my world has telescoped to my bedroom and the adjoining bathroom for the moment. Travels are well and truely restricted. And the Barcelona trip had to be postponed of course. Next week I go back to the hospital to have my ankle looked at. I’m hoping this restrictive cast is taken off and they give me a cool Moon Boot thing so I can walk again.

So no travels and no pictures so my blog will be on a hiatus for a while. Cheers for bearing with me.

Working on the IndyManBeerCon, they fed us. We were giving tokens and we could swap them for something delicious from the food village. Various street food specialists set up their field kitchens and cooked delicious fresh food to order. You asked for what you wanted and watched it assembled and cooked before your eyes. 

I had a delicious pulled pork burrito one day. I can’t remember the name of the street food vendor sadly, nor can I find it on the IndyMan website. Another day I had some Malaysian food from a kitchen called Nasi Lemak. I’ve had Malaysian food a couple of times now and find I always enjoy it. I had some Vegan Chicken Bites (I imagine it was tofu) covered with three types of sauce with some of those pickled vegetables that you see in Korean cuisine. It was delicious and probably did me a fair amount of good.

I did manage to get these pictures of the pizza I had on the third day from a street kitchen called Honest Crust. They managed to get one of those huge pizza ovens into the festival. The pizza was assembled before you cans you could watch it cook in the oven. I was told to try it and, even though there was a wait, it was more than worth it. I had a sourdough crust pizza with wild mushrooms. It was VERY good.

It wasn’t all beer. In a side room Three Rivers, a Manchester based gin company, had set up a gin parlour. I must find their distillery, they do tours I’ve heard. The three rivers referred to in the name are the Irwell, Medlock and Irk, the rivers that run through the city centre.

On my first evening working at IndyManBeerCon I was working on receiving the guests at the door. A call came through to see if anyone could be spared to work on the increasingly busy bar of the Northern Monk Brewery from Leeds in Yorkshire. When I was in university I had a job working in a pub behind the bar. I got quite good at it and learned how to pull a perfect pint of Guinness with exactly the right proportion of creamy white top to black stout beer below (did you know that Guinness isn’t actually black, it’s a very, very dark red beer). I didn’t perfect the shamrock on the top even though I am of Irish descent.

Northern Monk had an entire tent to themselves beyond the food village. When I arrived it was already busy. I met Billy (grey T in the pictures), one of the craftsmen brewers, who lovingly talked me through the beers and ales on offer and showed me how to pull them. After a few mistakes I got into the groove and all that muscle memory from nights behind the bar in the Friendship Inn came true.

At the beginning of the evening there was a lot of ‘beer tasting’. People swirled the beer in their glasses, inhaled the aroma, swashed it about the various parts of their mouths so they could assess the ‘feel’ and the ‘depth’ of the taste. Appreciative noises were made and comparisons with beers drunk at other times and at other events. All rather like a wine tasting. The difference between the two events was that, while the wine may have been spat out, the beer most definitely wasn’t! 

The beer was sold in one third of a pint measures so three glasses equated to a pint in a normal pub. Problems might have arisen because the beers on offer can be, and were, a lot stronger than the mass produced beers that can be bought anywhere. And people were on a mission to try a lot of them. Only the number of tokens you could afford limited you. I saw no one getting drunk and the security people said it was a good event to do from their perspective because everyone was out to have a good time and were so chilled. 

However, as the evening went on there was less appreciation of the beers and more of the how much can I drink attitude. For example…

Young Lady to me: Give me a glass of your favourite beer and then I’ll have another of your second favourite one!

But my favourite interchange of the evening came courtesy of a young, Australian guy…

Aussie Guy: (possibly having had one more than was good for him) What have you got that’s most like an Aussie lager?

Me: (looking along the beers on offer from Northern Monk and finding nothing remotely like an Aussie lager but spotting Billy not busy for a moment) Billy, this chap wants something that’s most like an Aussie lager. What do you suggest?

Billy: (looking Aussie guy up and down with barely concealed distaste) Well I can offer you some piss in a glass!

Aussie Guy wasn’t put off so I chose him a glass of an India Pale Ale flavoured with Passionfruit.

Me: Try that. In some pubs in Sydney that’s considered a cocktail. 

 

I was really busy last week working at the IndyManBeerCon, a festival that celebrates the huge number of artisan crafted beers and ales that are now being produced across the UK in small breweries. These beers used to be a tiny proportion of the beer consumed in the UK, the province of diehard aficionados. Now they are mainstream with people from all walks of life taking the trouble to search out these beers.

The IndyManBeerCon started six years ago and was the brainchild of a guy who owns a couple of bars in the Northern Quarter and one in Chorlton. I’m not sure where it started but its present home is the Victoria Baths, a short walk from the Whitworth Gallery on Oxford Road. It probably started out small but, talking to some of the brewers there, it’s now one of the most important beer festivals in the country. Brewers from as far away as Cornwall in the south to Aberdeen in the north of Scotland came to the city to show off their beers. Some brewers, like Cloudwater from Manchester and Northern Monk from Leeds were here for the entire festival. Others came and went so there was always different beers to try.

The three pools had been drained of course and the bars were set up in them, surrounded by wooden tables. There was recorded music in the First Class Male and Second Class Male baths. The Female pool was turned into a club with DJs and live music as well as the bars. A brewery from Buxton set up in the Turkish Baths. Another brewery took over the Pineapple Room (the stained glass windows feature the fruit). Behind the baths was a tented food village where street food sellers set up shop. There was a huge tent with a chilled Ibiza club vibe about it with more bars. And Northern Monk had their own tented bar.

You booked online for a session (an afternoon or evening) or you could have a weekend pass or a pass for the entire festival. You paid for that online. People arrived and brought their tickets on their phones which were scanned in the street outside and you got a wristband for your session. Inside you were given a glass and a map (I helped with that once). You then went to buy some tokens for beer and food using cash or card. Then you were off round the festival swapping your tokens for whatever beer you fancied. It certainly made life easy for the bar staff. I worked on the token exchange once and it was crazy busy. The bars were busy but at least we didn’t have to count change out. And we could talk to people about the beers. I was amazed how I quickly got to a place where I could chat about the beers with authority. TBH I knew next to nothing but throw in phrases like ‘double IPA’ and ‘hoppy ale’ and they seemed to lap it up. 

At then end of each session the people there (1,500 for each) just seem to melt away and the festival was tidied up for the next session. There was security. We had a very scary lady who went round ‘suggesting’ that people would like to go home and forbidding people like me from serving any more beer after a certain time. I certainly didn’t.

The lovely people at HOME, Manchester’s theatre, cinema, art gallery complex on First Street were kind enough to invite me to see two of their new season’s productions a couple of weeks ago. And very fine they were too. Look back a few posts and your will see what I thought about them. This blog, which started as a way of organising a few photos for family and friends, is read by many more people than I ever thought. It has been touted as one of the top ten blogs to read if you want to find out about Manchester. I am humbled by this. Social media is huge, something not lost on HOME, and I suspect that’s why I’ve been invited to review somethings. It’s taking my blog in a new direction and I’m grateful for that. It also makes me go see things I might, otherwise, not go to or completely miss.

However, the blog doesn’t pay the bills and work has got busy again and I’m off to Barcelona for a few days soon (hope it calms a little) so I haven’t been able to find time to see other things just yet. Which is a shame because HOME is having its annual ORBIT festival. A series of theatrical events, a lot handpicked from August’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe, have been brought to Manchester to entertain, educate and make us think. I’m not sure if I can find the time to see any so I’m not in a position to review any. So, with their permission, I will use their own words to describe the festival…..

Orbit Festival 2017 brings together innovative new work from theatre makers across the globe who want to explore our place in the world. Many of these shows come straight from the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, exploring our relationship with the past, how we remember, the stories we tell ourselves and what it is that makes us who we are.

How do we navigate today’s world, forging and challenging our economic, political and social circumstance? What about our plans for the future and the threats to our ideals and aspirations we hold dear and hope will keep us safe?

Like you, these artists are extraordinary. They have their stories; all they need now is you. They want to talk to you about where we are now, where we’ve been and where we are going.

So join us for a journey through what it means to be human in these unstable times.

HOME is a very different arts space. You, probably, won’t see the latest blockbuster movie or one of the huge West End musicals there. The city is well served with venues that do that. And there’s nothing wrong with those particular pieces. I’m happy to watch WICKED as many times as someone wants to take me.

What is shown at HOME is, of course, entertaining. If it didn’t do that people wouldn’t go. But you will also leave having had an experience you won’t get elsewhere in the city. You will leave enriched by the experience, you will have had food for thought and it will certainly give you something to discuss on the tram home.

When you read through the prospectus for an up and coming season at HOME, maybe everything isn’t instantly recognisable or appealing. The thing to do is to be brave and take a punt on something new and provocative. Just give it a go and broaden your mind and experience.

The ORBIT Festival started on 28th September and runs to 14th October. PLEASE, give yourself a treat and log on to https://homemcr.org/ follow the link to the ORBIT Festival and try something out. I know you will be pleasantly surprised.

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Photo Credit: The Other Richard
info@theotherrichard.com

Greg Wohead