Manchester
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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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The Manchester Metrolink. It has its knockers but I’m a fan and think, in general, it’s pretty good. Pretty good doesn’t include when it terminates early at Timperley or Navigation Road (Alty commuters, right?). But as a service, it mostly works. Whilst crowding and cancellations can drive you to the brink at times (or not, if
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It will take a long, long time to heal but the despair and heartbreak has been equally matched by the love and kindness I’ve seen on the streets of Manchester this week. I ❤️ MCR.
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When I was young, I had two major concerns about getting older: I wouldn’t be allowed to wear my hair in a ponytail anymore; and What would I do about coffee mornings – I hated coffee and indeed tea. What world I was living in where the latter was a real worry, I don’t know.
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Against an apt backdrop of much controversy and mirth, Eric Cantona brought his Evening with… show to The Lowry Theatre this week. Prior to taking my red husband (in football supporting terms, you understand, his blood pressure is normal) last night (Thurs 23 February) for his Valentine’s treat, we were treated to a cacophony (about
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Manchester, you’re killing me man, you’re killing me. Your 50% off food this, and 50% off food that…well it’s February now so…deal with that. Manchester. Like a cliche, a glorious cliche, I was battling all the 50% off restaurant shenanigans as I resolved away, this January, and opted for the rare and untapped resolution that
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Yes, I did that in the title. It’s tenuous but almost could have been brilliant. Running through my veins is champagne – or at least it would if only I could. Another passion is Italy whose prosecco has in recent years probably tripled the sale of flutes and quadrupled the use of the phrase Fizz
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The clock tower and red neon is synonymous with sweeping camera shots of Manchester. It used to be, anyway. Whistling Beetham Tower has taken over. And soon, its sister. Its massive sister. In fact red neon adorned buildings used to be the thing. My old employer and first love Granada TV and its lettering used
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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 