I heart Manchester

Back in the 90's, I fell in love with Manchester. I had never been before but I'd heard about it;  I'd heard  it was the place to be with bands like Oasis hitting the Brit-pop scene propelling Manchester to far off places like Newcastle and making young girls like me get excited. It was uber cool to be British, to be Northern and to mostly be from Manchester. I would watch the Gallagher brothers on Top of the Pops and think "wow" especially when Liam Gallagher mooched on stage with his moody persona;  back then, he could have swaggered up to Newcastle and swept me off my feet.  When I was 21, I eventually moved to Manchester, to Longsight to be precise.  I often lamented about missing the sea air and complained that Greggs in Manchester doesn't sell stottie bread (what is that all about?) but honestly, I couldn't have chosen a better city to have partied away my 20's.  I've since lived all over Manchester and have settled, for now, in Mostonia: land of the free. (Well, it's called Moston but I prefer Mostonia: land of the free.)

I just love Manchester. I can't get enough of it. I love the beautiful parks, the vast choice of things to do, the opportunities for great nights out and the feeling that Manchester is a city pieced together by hard work. I love the gorgeous dialect , "alright r kid?"  it just makes me smile. The range of music that floods the city, the concerts and football stadiums, the buildings, the entire buzz and the feeling of sheer excitement that a big, bold city like Manchester can offer someone just adds to it's appeal. Manchester is just lush. It has a fabulous vibe that transcends across the city and makes me feel right at home in my favourite pub like Sinclairs or even shopping in the Arndale. It's a city with mega history from the Irish slums to St Peter's Square, to Heaton Park, Canal Street, Belle Vue, Gorton and beyond. Dubbed Gunchester and laced with gang crime, it has had it's fair share of hurt and destruction. I too, watched in sheer disgrace as the riots reached the city centre this summer. Since then, and some how there has been a sense of determination to correct such disaffection.

I got married in Heaton Park and it was glorious. The library setting suited my obsession with books and writing whilst the background of the city enhanced my love for it's soul. Manchester has been good to me, really good to me. I fell in love in Manchester, started my first proper job here, my writing career and my son was born in North Manchester hospital. I have wonderful Manc friends (some are from Salford) and I am still amused when occasionally they will lean closer to me and say, "Jo, you will have to repeat yourself again, I don't understand what you're saying..."

Of course, there are things I hate about Manchester; for starters, the recycling system-please don't get me started on Manchester City Council's half-hearted approach at something that is so vital in saving the planet. I also don't like the negative, big city feeling you get sometimes when you're in the city centre. I certainly don't like the rain, the assumption that you either support "City" or "United", the snobby attitude of South Manchester (Didsbury, Darling) and the horrendously over-priced public transport system. I'm also not fond of the police but I guess they have a tough job to do, on an awfully poor budget. I increasingly get more irritated by the lack of empathy people have with some issues we have in Manchester like homelessness, immigration and poverty but I heart Manchester regardless. Mainly because it's a wonderful city; it's cultural, diverse, ever-changing, industrious, ambitious and oozes with charm and history.

I guess you could say that Manchester is in my heart and I'm proud of that despite of my Geordie roots. Though my son has Geordie blood and he will always be reminded of his North East heritage, there is no escaping that he was born in Manchester; home of the people who say e'r and can't pronounce their H's; home to two football teams, the reds and the blues; home of his Manc Dad who was the first person to hold him and finally, home to me, his Geordie-but-Manc-loving mother who really hearts Manchester, even if they don't sell Stotties in Greggs.