Life in Northern Towns

This is my first life in a northern city entry and it is Liverpool . Over the years I’ve visited Liverpool – first times were to take the ferry to Dublin, so all I recollect really is the M62 and the trip to the docks, usually at night too so not much to remember. The next visits I made were for visits to friends, gigs, shopping and the art galleries for my OU course. I have mixed feelings about the place really, part fantastic and part really irritating. Where do I start? Well the reason why I’m writing this is because I went to Liverpool last bank holiday with my other half. Whilst we were there we stumbled upon the Mathew Street Music Festival and managed to catch China Crisis do a short set. Believe me that was the highlight of what we saw and China Crisis were a little embarrassing to say the least. Most of the festival was just a collection of bad covers bands on stages across the city. The city streets were closed to traffic and were full of thousands of scousers drin...

I could do Bury as a random trip to a random northern town, but the place has too much history for me on this occasion. Bury... so much to answer for. It was the place of two interesting phases of my life: Sixth Form College and my stay at Fairfield Hospital. The former spanned 1988 to 1990 and the latter span a couple of days in March 2009 - sort of. In September 1988, after surviving high school without too many mental scars due to the fine people at Booth Hall Hospital (possibly another entry), I ended up at Holy Cross Sixth Form College . It's a catholic college and at the time was run by a formidable Irish Nun called Sister Mary Kelly. I ended up getting a C in General Studies, a D in History and a N in Economics. Not brilliant results, but typical of my style of getting by on a wing and a prayer. If I'd dropped Economics instead of Government and Politics I'd probably ended up at Manchester Poly instead of Sheffield Poly and life would have been different. I ...

Funnily enough having lived in Manchester practically all my life, I hadn't really visited Bolton that much until recent times. In truth it hadn't really registered on my radar. My first visit in recent years had been to the Council and another visit was for a Wedding at the Holiday Inn. Recently, since the move to Swinton, my latest visits have been for shopping and I have to admit I like it. I've been mainly parking at the market centre. Apparently it had been a covered proper market for years, until it had a makeover and moved Debenhams in (a minus point really) and lots of high street chains (another minus point). They have an odd parking token system and I always get lost trying to find the carpark. I could us other car parks, but it's right in the centre and in truth I'm a bit lazy. High street shopping is good in Bolton, if you don't want to hike the trafford centre and Manchester City Centre. It's the usual suspects. They have a nice big s...

Yes, I'm sad to say Warrington is a bit boring. A few Saturdays ago I spent a dull afternoon in Warrington and well it just didn't excite me. What can I say in it's favour? The council went a bit mental on the street art - all shapes and sizes that makes life different. There is a fab art shop with lovely 1950s signage, stripped wood flooring and a fab ambience. What else? Lots and lots of roundabouts. Ikea - a joy to women and a hell to men. Half way between Manchester and Scouse land. The charity shops are okay - nothing brillant, but nothing too bad. And the down side? It's very flat and it resides in a 1960s precient hell. I could waffle on for a thousand words, but really only less than two hundred words will suffice. It's dull, so don't expect much - jump on a train as Manchester and Liverpool have much more to offer.

Cheetham Hill is pronouced 'Che'um 'ill', despite the BBC journalists pronunciations in recent times. The Hill has many memories for me having lived on Woodlands Road, played on Esmond Road and shopped on Cheetham Hill Road. As much as my Mum tried to convince me we lived in Crumpsall, we lived on the wrong side of the road in our Edwardian Terrace in Cheetham Hill. I have quoted this many times, but in the 70s I lived in a very multicultural area of the Hill. The Edwardian terrace then was home to a Siki family, Irish family, Jewish man, Chinese family, us (Irish - both north and south), Italian / Ukrainian family and an Italian corner shop. Believe me today you do not get that type of cultural diversity in Cheetham Hill - it is much more ghettoised. When we moved to Whitefield in 1980 I was sadden by the lack of cultural diversity - it seemed plain weird to me at the time. Back to the 'ill - Lindy Lou's - it was a kids shop my Mum made me frequent on an ...

After exploring what Lancashire could offer recently, I thought it would be interesting to head over the Pennines to God's Own County of Yorkshire - West Yorkshire to be exact. At Junction 24 I had a choice, head for Halifax or 'uddersfield . Not wishing to offend our Yorkshire cousins, I thought Halifax would be a safer bet and what a very pleasant surprise it was. Halifax is snuggled in a valley and on the sweeping drive down the A629 you can see evidence of its industrial past with mills - now converted into apartments. On parking in the heart of Halifax, you may think you are parking in a non descript town, with the usual high street shops, however you will be pleasantly deceived. There is no Debenhams, nor Starbucks: my usual indicators of high street saturation. There is a high number of individual, non-chain boutiques and coffee shops providing refreshments of a decidedly Halifax flavour. The railway station is a sight to see as it looks as if it is straight out...

It may seem like a broad and sweeping statement about Wigan and I do risk the wrath of its residents, but really, it is full of nutters. It's a statement that has already been confirmed to me by two ex Wiganites, so I don't think I'm on too shaky ground there. So what possessed me to drive to Wigan on a dull Saturday afternoon in March? It was a dull Saturday afternoon, I'd never been to Wigan and I love driving. I seriously love driving - my ambition is to do the star in the reasonably priced car circuit on Top Gear. Don't get me wrong as much as I love Top Gear, Clarkson is an A1 tosser - I just watch it for its comedy value and seeing Clarkson nearly kill himself on a regular basis. Anyway, were was I? Wigan, yes, parked in the council car park - a modern functional affair, with a quirk that you had to pay the man in the booth to let you out. A bit bizarre, when you can normally pop money in a machine which will pay for your parking. It must be a council thi...

Let's start from the beginning, 12th June 1972, when I was born in Crumpsall Hospital. Not the most glamourous starts in life. It's a rather sprawling hospital with new bits added onto rather scary looking Edwardian building. As much as I was born here, I don't fancy dying there - so I do try to avoid it as much as I can - even went to not so great lengths to have my most recent and only op at Fairfield Hospital in Bury. It was a partial thyroidectomy if your wondering - cracking scar too. Anyway I was born in Crumpsall. Other Crumpsall connections: Baptised at St Anne RC Church - a rather large and uninspiring modern build church. Spent most Sundays until the age of 8 trying not to fall asleep during the service - failed miserably to the consternation of my mother. Had my holy communion there too. There was a major fashion faux par that day - Me and Angela Gill wore the same dress. Except I looked better - was taller, wore an underskirt provided by my mad Italian /...

Well how do you classify your home down? I was born in Crumpsall; spent my formative years in Cheetham Hill until my mother decided she didn't want her kids to become scallies; moved to Whitefield, but hung out and delivered newspapers to the lead singer of The Fall in Prestwich; went to college in Bury; studied at uni both in Sheffield (dropped out and lots of hills) and Salford (I did graduate this time); lived in Withington, Chorlton and now Swinton; worked in Manchester City Centre, Swinton and now sunny Wythenshawe. You could say Manchester is my home town, but it's techincally a city. So Manchester is my home city, but what is my home town? You better keep reading my blog then, and in between my random posts of random trips to random northern towns, I will take you through my geographical autobiography.