Grant’s presence and travel enthusiasm catalysed the opportunity to explore a bit more of Britain, beyond Cambridgeshire and London. He had a ticket for the Ashes at Old Trafford, so we headed up to Manchester. My a priori knowledge of Manchester was limited to the Industrial Revolution and the Hacienda; i was ready for more.

Grant led the advance party to the hotel, enabling me to dawdle into town around 7:30pm, just in time to exchange pleasantries on the train with several Liverpudlian cricket fans who jubilantly informed me of the Australians teams impending demise. Alighting with relief, to see the sun setting over the characteristic Victorian architecture that makes up much of the cbd,

i strolled south, past the university,

and along what we later discovered is called the 'Curry Mile', which is fairly self-explanatory,

to the hotel, where Grant was excitedly awaiting my arrival.

we celebrated our reunion with an exchange of gifts - the remains of his dinner from the aforementioned Curry Mile, for cold Kronies - and we were soon out the door again ready to taste some of the famed Mancunian nightlife. Our progress was hampered by two other Australians, who insisted we all share a cab into town, then vigorously proselytised their intended destination for the evening: the Walkabout.

For anyone who hasn't had the pleasure, the Walkabout chain of "Australian themed" pubs brings everything great about our sunburnt country, in addition to icy-cold Fosters, to locations from Covent Garden, to Cardiff, to Carlisle. And to Manchester, where the Test at Old Trafford ensured the crowd was heaving that weekend. We had something a bit more authentic in mind and haughtily dismissed our taxi-mates' insistence that it was _the_ place to go.

To cut a long story short, we went to the Walkabout. And had the best night ever.

We did meet some big animals on the way there.
They were having a good night too.

PS. 2:30 am: discovery of the source of literally the best kebabs in the United Kingdom.
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Saturday we awoke and, after a nutritious breakfast,

headed along to the Whitworth Gallery, the gallery of the University of Manchester.

It had a really cool range of works, from contemporary sculpture to Durer and Altdorfer woodcuts, to Whistler watercolour landscapes, to an exhibition on originality/replication/editions entitled "The Object of Encounter: Aura and Authenticity", which included a personal favourite, Blake's Ancient of Days.

Unfortunately the weather took a turn for the worse as we headed into town, but two £1 umbrellas later, our spirits were undampened.

We wandered about the centre of town, checked out some record stores, and admired the architecture of the city, both old

and newIt was then we chanced upon Urbis, a museum on urban life on the north side of the CBD,

(Fact of the week courtesy of the Urbis website: "Ciao, a term Venetian in origin, comes from the word s-ciào, a greeting which can be translated as 'I am your slave.'")
After lunch,

we went in, up the diagonalator to the top floor,

where we checked out the main urban life/cities exhibition. That was pretty interesting, in a Koyaaniqatsi kind of a way, plus we picked up a bit more of the history of Manchester. We then parted ways, Grant to check out the Sex Pistols exhibition also at Urbis, and myself to the Manchester Art Gallery.

That was very good, a lot of Pre-Raphaelite and other Victorian era British works, including Ford Madox Brown's 'Manfred on the Jungfrau

"...And you, ye crags upon whose extreme edge I stand, and on the torrent's brink beneath Behold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs In dizziness of distance, when a leap, A stir, a motion, even a breath, would bring My breast upon its rocky bosom's bed To rest for ever - wherefore do I pause?"

- Byron 'Manfred'

There was also an exhibition of works by Joash Woodrow, a guy who had become a recluse and painted over 5000 works in his home, over a 45 year period. He and his paintings were only discovered when there was a fire at the house.

Leaving the gallery i strolled about the town a little more,

Headed back to the hotel, past the canal

and through the university.

It struck me that there a certain parallels between Manchester and Chicago and Melbourne. They all grew very quickly from small villages, if anything, at the start of the 19th century to big bustling cities at the end. They are all "second cities" having competed with more-established settlements. Their growth was driven to a large extent by a boom: cotton; railways and gold respectively. The prosperity derived from these booms manifested itself in, amongst other things, glorious Victorian neo-gothic architecture. After the booms subsided, the cities having grown sufficiently to become self-perpetuating, have adapted, evolved, re-invented, to some extent to overcome. Each has developed something of an innovative independent spirit. Of course there are at least as many differences as similarities, but the parallels are there.

In any case, Manchester is a very interesting city, definitely evolving and certainly regarded with great pride by its residents.

After all this pontificating, it was time for a few beers followed by dinner at a curry house with Grant's old housemate Danielle, and some second and third degree of separation friends.

Dinner was very pleasant, right up until the bit where the police came in and asked if we knew anything about a suspicious package on the footpath outside. Finish up your Lamb Tikka Madras, everybody, it's bomb scare time!

Can't see the alleged bomb?

Here it is:

It was all very exciting, getting evacuated from the restaurant, unsuccessfully attempting to leave without paying the bill, police everywhere, confused and disoriented members of the public, what a kerfuffle!

though some people didn't exactly treat the situation with the gravity it deserved.

Thankfully it wasn't a bomb (or at least, it didn't go off, as the following morning the postbox was still there and the package was not).

A bomb scare is difficult to top for excitement, so the remainder of the evening was a relative anticlimax, but still most enjoyable. In particular, the kebab purchased on the way home made me quite excited:

The following morning i sprang up early, bidding Grant and Manchester farewell,

and returning south in time for a garden party at Magdalene College,

complete with Pimms, cucumber sandwiches and croquet. All in all a top weekend.