Manchester - August 2011

The skanks of Manchester and Salford decided to copycat the riots in Tottenham.  They had no idea about the issue which started the original London troubles.  They did know they wanted to sack Manchester for trainers and tellys, booze and the craic.

But Manchester bounced back. On Wednesday the Real Mancunians turned out to clear up.  By real manc, I mean someone who loves Manchester, not necessarily a Manc born.

Ashamed to say I didn't go down, so I feel I've surrendered my Manc birthright.  I had spent so long watching the news coverage on Tuesday that I went to bed around 4am on Wednesday, I slept in until noon. And I didn't go out in town last week, as I was being a folky hippy at Cropredy.

But Manchester town centre will be just fine.  It has survived world wars, fierce protest marches, IRA bombs, some really nasty 'redevelopment', vicious derby matches and an invasion of Scottish and Russian football fans on the lash.  It will take more than some pathetic gobshites to bring it down.

Whaaat?

The last post was 9 April?  Blimey.

As you'd expect, things have moved on a bit. I accepted the redundancy offer, and finished on 30 June.  The day before was my birthday (it's a prime number) so we had a lot of cake, hugs, tearful promises to keep in touch and all the rest.

Then I buggered off and had a month without much contact at all.

So now, what?  I have the time and money to get myself sorted out.  So I'd better get on with it.

Well...

I have had the verbal offer of voluntary severance.

Wednesday.

The letter is on the way, but I work in HR and we are the last to know or get anything, when it concerns us.  Manage to interfere very effectively in anyone else's affairs though.

I have 5 days or something equally daft, to decide from the date of the letter.

And if the figures add up, I'm off.

Seeing as I first started working there in October 1990 (!) it is a big deal.  I wondered if I'd made a mistake in applying, but there's been a few developments recently.

Changing place, changing thoughts, changing time, changing future.

Cats in cahoots

Oh, I give up.

Once again my attempts to thwart the inner domestic goddess have been foiled.

It is Spring, and the cats always celebrate this by bringing fieldmice in the house. I found the one they kindly left next to my favourite boots, but Bailey was sniffing around very enthusiastically and I suspect they have another one lurking about somewhere.

Cue full furniture moving session tomorrow, with a weekend of spring cleaning as today's exploration of the further edges of the living room revealed

an old copy of Private Eye behind the sofa

some earrings that had fallen off the bookcase

rather too much wallpaper clawed from the wall by Tig/Jasmine

and sod-all else.  I could take it at face value, no mice, but Bailey never gets that animated without good reason.

I have pointed out that dead mice are not really a present I appreciate, but the suffer from Feline Selective Deafness. I suspect that this was a ploy to take my mind off work. I would have preferred booze and chocolate.

Changing

I love this photo.

It's in the garden at the Guggenheim in Venice. I can't remember the name of the artist, but the little girl in the photo had stood chattering at it (in English and German) for a good five minutes before her mother scooped her up. In this photo, she had just made a spirited grab for the letters on the last line. I would love to know what she made of it all.

I use a cropped version on my Facebook now and then. And right now, it feels very appropriate.

My art gallery will be opening soon-ish

I've got bored with falling over all the framed artwork in my boxroom.

It was all taken down for various reasons, and stored safely enough.

My sister thought it would be better to have a more minimalist style, and a curator's approach to my favourite works. I thought I might have the walls replastered, and painted before putting it all back. Sensible me. All very well, fine and dandy.

But that isn't going to happen, and I have the lovely special gift poster from 'The Price' just crying out for a frame and a bit of appreciation.

So, Plan B - bugger the badly painted walls, and the dodgy plaster. Just hang everything in a fantastic patchwork effect, this weekend. Why am I denying myself the pleasure of nice things, or the pain of accidentally-hammered fingers?

Oh yes, now I remember... pain and a bit of an aversion to stepladders...

The chances of opening an associated cafe and gift shop are slim, unless the pets fancy running it while I'm at work.

They did it!

2001 people did it, to be precise.

Backed 'The Price' before the deadline, and the film has been funded.

I'm really chuffed :)

And we know in advance how long the credits will be.