Manc

Manc
Manchester Canals

Manchester jewel of the north , gritty urban cobbled sprawl.
Twisting tidy streets, grandiose old buildings, mixed in with newer, silver steel high rises.
Teenag e mums with bleached hair extensions, large Botox enhanced lips and tattoos, wheeling tots roughshod over the cobbles , bellowing in harsh manchurian accents .
I am in the home of ” Corrie ” , the UK’s , 50 year young , longest running and much loved soapie.
The old city has a grace and dignity not easily reconciled to the smoking chimneys , grey skies and discarded remnants of the industrial tools of a working past .
Soft rain cloaks my steps as my wheelie case bounces across the cobbles .
It is a city of contrast, abandoned olde worlde 18th century , orange brick buildings , sprouting elaborate stained glass windows depicting British bird life. A brash steel and perspex triangular edifice houses the football museum where homage is paid to the twin religions of Man U or Man City.
It is a town divided by where your allegiance lies , to the big powerful all conquering ” U ” fans , or the humbler ” City ” supporters .
Tattoo parlours balanced above vintage clothing shops proffer fresh needles for every new client housed in three storey Dickensian tumbling ruins.
Tea shops abound paying tribute to the national tipple , their windows offering Victoria sandwich sponge cakes or the fractured Eton mess .
Primark , that UK shrine to consumer heaven is encased in Victorian stone surroundings , contrasting the permanent and impermanent.
Jamie’s Italian is here, housed in a turn of the century bank and pubs perch on every corner offering a multitude of amber ales .
Vivienne Westwood opens her doors in a soft grey stone edifice , her iconic signature , tilted crown and sabre proudly displayed above the door in gold .
The royal theatre , a grandiose old dame , offers live theatre in a tubular tardis like contraption .
I view a two man play whose main prop is a huge life like tree , the main character hidden in it’s branches , whilst I sprawl on green velvet couches below , last minute tickets costing a mere twelve quid .
Twisting, curving, gracious and fastidious architecture, mixed in with newer trashy incomplete and impermanent structures, scattered together like pieces of a child’s flung jigsaw puzzle .
The intriguing art gallery , offers temporary exhibition ” do it ” on the top floor, which seems to sum up Manchester’s attitude perfectly.

Published by

Denise Honan

Re Training Visual Artist. Completed Diploma of Visual Art at Victoria University in 2015. Currently studying Bachelor of Fine Art at Monash University, Caulfield.

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