Greater Manchester
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Coming home from The Lowry theatre last night, my designated plus 1 in theatre and basically life, told me the story of the snail and the ginger beer. It’s a little like the owl and the pussycat. Well actually nothing like it. The snail and the ginger beer was the court case Donoghue v Stevenson, which
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I last wrote about this topic (in more detail)in my dissertation in the year cough cough etc. You understand my entire dissertation wasn’t based on Michael Douglas but a small portion of it. I don’t have a degree in Michael Douglas. I focussed on the femme fatale on film and how feminist theory has been
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I’ve been commuting since I was 12 years old, getting the bus to school, 2.9miles away (that 0.1 is very important given that it disqualified me from the free bus pass that the elusive and illustrious 3 mile commute brought you). Buses gave way to trains once starting uni and then work, and I seriously
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Brought up by cricket-loving parents. I can boast that I was there at the infamous Headingley Test in 1981. I was barely stringing a sentence together given my young years what’s new? (Good one, me. Who just wrote that too. About me) … but I was there. And so with that grounding, I had no
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This was my third marathon. My hat trick. There, any kind of remote feelings of wonderment towards me must end (only in this regard, of course, carry on for the other reasons). My third as a spectator, bag looker afterer, next of kin, meerkat impersonator as I attempt to spot my partner in crime (the
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I’m often outraged by things. It’s my favourite go to emotion. Question Time – outraged, Making a Murderer – outraged, someone getting on the bus and passively aggressively closing a window without thought of whether already present passengers were happily enjoying the cold relief it was bringing – outraged. When I heard that the Cornerhouse
honorary manc 