mightaswell.

Have I actually mentioned my bike? I’ve got a bike. The best bike in the world, to be precise. I got it from one of my favourite people, almost a year ago, and the first time I was riding it down a quiet and leafy street in Didsbury I started to cry, which was followed by a celebratory bottle or two glass of wine. A glorious day.

Anythatwasthemotherofallhangoversway, last week marked the beginning of my favourite time of the year in Manchester – the 6 months of “oh it’s getting warm…nope, not quite yet…but now!! No… no, still not warm enough to wear short sleeves. OH there it is, that must be it, Summer! No, no…false alarm. Whoops, it’s November again. Well that was that then, I guess. Better luck next year.” Highly determined to make the best of the few hours of sunshine I can get here every year, I put on a floral print dress – my official summer uniform – got on my bike and cycled down to Levy for some food at POD and a visit to the superawesome Laurie Pink, but more about that later.

The excitement had me as soon as I had caught a glimpse of the magnificent trees blooming on Fog Lane that stood bright and colourful in the Sunday sun. I cycled faster. We crossed Kingsway into Burnage. I gasped: My first visit to Burnage. BURN. AGE. Famous for being the home of the Gallagher brothers, Dave Rowbotham of the Durutti Column being murdered in his flat, and… uhm… yeah. That record shop, I guess. I excpected tumbleweeds, gunmen and saloon doors, but I only saw a wide tree lined road, a country pub-ish looking pub with the poetic name ‘The Sun in September‘ and several parks, including the rather vast Cringle Park, luring us in with the promise of seeing an ‘Indian Bean Tree’ that couldn’t be spotted – if anyone has managed to find the location of the ‘Indian Bean Tree’, please do let me know. The bike ride, the greens, the country pub-ish pub and the sun had made me so enthusiastic however, I even came up with a marketing slogan for letting agents who would like to advertise properties in the area: “Burnage – it could be worse.”

Having crossed Cringle park, we suddenly found ourselves in the heart of Levenshulme, only two minutes away from POD, which, once again, didn’t fail to amaze me with the tastiness of its food as well as the slowness of the ordering and food preparing process. But to be completely honest, I actually prefer anticipation up to the point of self-torture to the finished product - this is exactly the right place for me.

On the way back, we paid a visit to the wonderful Laurie Pink who I had met on my first trip to Levenshulme last year. The crazy lady had put herself through a 24 hour drawing marathon to create dozens of drawings for everyone who donated for Comic Relief – raising over £1300 pounds in one day. I had commissioned a royal portrait for my cycling companion, the mighty Robot Swan King (yeah… don’t ask), which we had come to pick up that afternoon. We were welcomed by Arthur and Smith, two incredibly lovely whippets, a pouting cat, actor/singer/comedian Mitch Benn, who was sat in the kitchen watching roller derby videos, and a room with walls covered in drawings as a proof of Laurie’s hard work*. Having swapped cake for drawings, we hopped onto our bikes and cycled back down south – not without stopping by at the ‘Sun in September’ for a cheeky half of fizzy apple juice. I’m living life on the edge.

* madness

I’ve been a little bit quiet lately, which has been mainly caused by a series of Manchester Girl Geeks events, partly also by my new flatmate. Little Gethin is 18 months old, black, furry, and goes absolutely crazy for coriander*. This may sound weird to some of you who have been growing up with cats, dogs, and plenty of other animals surrounding them, but I am genuinely excited, almost ecstatic, to welcome my first ever pet to my house.

I adopted the rabbit from a friend who was going to move house and couldn’t take him with her; and to say I was a little worried about doing everything right would be understated. I spent hours bunnyproofing our flat, sticking cables into plastic tubes, removing books from the bottom shelves, reading up on ‘how to look after your rabbit’, their diet, how to keep them entertained, and generally panicking about coming home one day, finding the rabbit had rioted in our flat, turned his cage upside down, peed in my flatmate’s bed, pulled apart his 1st edition copy of Robinson Crusoe, chewed through our £200 solid wood coffee table, eaten several bars of chocolate before attempting to electrocute himself with the Playstation 3 cable and eventually drowning in the loo.

When Geth moved in, I made sure I spent a lot of time just sitting on the floor, talking to him (trying very hard to avoid babyspeak) and resisting the urge to go all ‘ooooh cuuuuteeee bunnyyyyyyyy, wanna  cuuuuudddlle’ on him. Having previously looked after him for a couple of days, I expected the rabbit to be quite timid, ignore me and go about his own business. I was surprised to find that the excitement about his new environment had made him rather inquisitive and bold, overlooking my cage cleaning activities, hopping over my legs, following me into the kitchen, and even jumping onto the sofa next to me a few times. In fact, while I’m writing this blog post, he’s on a tour across the front room, squeezing through a tunnel, trampling over  jars with candles and jumping onto his cardboard box (I’ve called it ‘the bunny fort’). My flatmate, who is mildly allergic to rabbits and can’t touch them, has figured out that Geth seems fine being stroked by his feet, as he proudly demonstrated one night - while I appreciate his attempts to show the bunny some affection, I’m not sure if I  agree with the whole foot stroking thing yet.

After a week at our place, the rabbit is still in good health, the furniture looks okay(ish), the cables and wires haven’t been touched yet, the litter tray is in use (well, including the general area around it), he eats and drinks like a champion, and he’s accepted us as his new friends. I do very much hope he doesn’t start hating me once he finds out that I’m going to have him neutered…

Oh, and while we’re at it: the RSPCA Manchester and Salford have lots of rescue bunnies that are waiting for a nice person to adopt them. Have a look at the adorable little furballs on the RSPCA website.

*  I’m keeping a list of things he does and doesn’t like to eat. So far I’ve found that he’s into coriander, bananas, carrots, sugar snaps, parsley and pak choy, but only the green bits. Fussy eater.

[Photo by Matt Orlinski, model: the beautiful Mr Gethin himself]

Forget Manchester’s buzzing Digital Media scene. What do all these creative people know about life in this city? The real talent lies with the students, the drunks, the angry people, the crazies. If you search a little on youtube, you come across all sorts of videos from Mancunians, capturing some of the most bizarre aspects of life in Manchester.

Gaff’s off license is a popular booze vendor in Fallowfield – just across the road from Owens Park, the biggest student halls of residence in town – that’s famous for… pandemonium (both the halls and the off license to be honest). This video features a tribute to the shop:

Speaking of Owens Park, the ‘Owens Park Tower Challenge’ seems to be a popular past time with students. The challenge comprises of downing a shot on every single one of the 18 floors of Owens Park Tower – and not being sick. Hint: the gentleman in the video fails this last part.

Aaah, crazy bus lady. Good old CBL. While I often find her amusing, I sometimes find myself silently swearing at her when she’s holding up the bus, arguing with the driver whether he’ll let her on, while I’m running late for yet another meeting. Here she is, talking about… not quite sure what.

Manchester isn’t exactly known for it’s marvelous weather, quaint little streets, lovely parks or its cleanliness. This video, most likely brought to you by a angry non-Mancunian, captures the situation quite well:

And finally, here’s a comment on the crime rate in Manchester. I watched it several times and couldn’t stop lauging: Robbery at Manchester International Festival