What is it about Manchester? I know that some of this website's readers and writers have, shall we say, 'associations' with Manchester as do I, but writing for a publication with its alleigance firmly in Liverpool, and living now in London, I feel that the time has come when I can justly (or rather, safely) launch my attack on the city which spawned my grandmother, my mother, and my career.
Yesterday I found myself in Manchester for a couple of hours 'en route' from Toulouse to London (don't ask). It was the first time I've been back in the city (during daylight hours) since I left after a relatively unhappy 18 months living and working in the city (there we go, got that admission out of the way - I can hear cries of 'biased'). I've been looking forward to going back - probably believing that now I don't live there anymore I'm much more likely to be able to rejoice in the city's staggering cultural wealth (the country's best concert hall, three professional orchestras, one of the most respected theatre companies in the UK, a new arts centre with two auditoria, four universities, a conservatoire and the largest programme-making arm of the BBC outside London).
Now for the really offensive stuff. My parents always used to tell me that 'you can take a whore to culture, but you can't make her think', a mutated version of a similarly structured mantra I think. To be blunt about it, I didn't enjoy my time in Manchester yesterday one bit (though for the record, I really enjoyed having a few pints on Thursday night with my old colleagues from Manchester Camerata - great fun guys, thanks for coming out!). Don't worry, they won't be reading this.
Walking past Piccadilly Gardens I was struck by just what a disaster this plot of land has been over the years - town planning faux-pas continued right up to 2002 when the council installed a large concrete wall that resembles that which divided Berlin, having in common with its German counterpart the feature of turning a dark hue when the rain comes, which is quite often here. But this is an irrelevance - there are beautiful parts of the city, many of which have been thoughtfully re-ordered by the authorities (St Anne's Square, Hanging Ditch, Cathedral Gardens and the G-Mex Piazza). In Piccadilly, it's easy to be sucked in by the ugliness of the surrounding buildings. What dawned upon me quite quickly, was that all the town planners need to to transform the place for the good is extend the elipse formed by the wall into a complete squashed circle, and not allow members of the public in. That would make Piccadilly a very pleasant place indeed - no Mancunians. If things got a little boring, they could ship in some Liverpudlians, Londoners or even Scots to mill around the place - as long as they didn't allow any townspeople in. Perhaps a little drastic - and I must warn any Mancunians out there that as a half-manc myself, I talk (somewhat) in jest and have no problem with Mancunians 'en-masse' - after all, the city has produced some of the finest humans, artists and intellects that our country can boast, in addition to the 'Jones' wing of my family. It just seems to be those who hang around Piccadilly Gardens - what's with them?
Having said this - walking around the city you realise that many of its central areas are cursed by their immediate inhabitants: people walking the streets looking smug, haughty and self-satisfied with no good reason - and acting the same. Maybe you get this in other cities too - I can't say I've noticed it though. Please, if there are any fellow Mancs out there who want to put me right, then please do so!
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