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Apples on Tour – South Manchester

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“What?” I hear you ask. “Manchester? For a holiday? Isn’t that where it always rains?” Point 1, it’s England, and that pretty much applies everywhere. Point 2, so what? Not for me the holiday lying on a beach getting a tan, no. There are more things under the sun than, er, the sun, and if I want to find them in Manchester, that’s what I’m gonna do. Deal with it.

So yeah, the real purpose of the visit was to see the latest show by the Didsbury Players, formerly the Celesta Players – a community theatre group based in the leafy Manchester suburb of Didsbury. But since it’s pointless going all that way just for a night, Nige and I decided to make a weekend of it, and cram whatever other entertainment in that we could. In this endeavour, one must say we’ve succeeded.

Friday morning saw us jump in the Yaris and head down the A1. Yep, I’d have preferred an environmentally-friendly train, but thanks to our “greenest government ever”, that would have cost us about four times as much, illogically. But there are plus points to this approach, and one was that we could have a quick stop-off at Wetherby for some lunch, before tackling the Pennines. The views in the cross-country drive are pretty good too, it’s just a shame that driving means you have to appreciate the view of HGVs more than the countryside.

But we got to the hotel in good time. We were more or less inbetween two suburbs of grand foliage – Didsbury and Chorlton-cum-Hardy, one of those great weird place names that’s up there with Leighton Buzzard, Ashby-de-la-Zouche and Piddle-in-the-Hole. By coincidence, it was the weekend of the Chorlton Arts Festival, so we headed along there in the hope of securing tickets for a play, stopping at the Woodstock Arms on the way – lovely pint of Pendle Witches’ Brew. The play tickets had sold out, so instead we chose to go to a poetry event – Allison McVety, a poet who I’d not heard of, was giving a reading at a meeting of the Manky Poets, a local poetry recital group. Her poems were great to listen to, covering all manner of topics, light and dark. Equally interesting were her explanations of how she was inspired to create the poems – some food for thought for my own poetry there.

On Saturday we headed into central Manchester, as nothing was going to stop me from seeing the Pre-Raphaelite collection at the City Gallery, not even death. Thankfully such an occurrence did not need overcoming. We got there via a pub called The Bank, where the wild boar burger was brilliant. Then off to the gallery, and I wasn’t disappointed. The Pre-Raphaelite collection was represented by the full Brotherhood – Millais, Hunt and Rosetti, as well as Burne-Jones, Waterhouse, and both Leightons, among others. Also there was Alma-Tadema (what a beautiful painting Silver Favourites is), Canaletto, Sargent, Sandys and plenty more. An excellent venue if you like British art.

A visit to the Museum of Science and Industry was next – all machinery great and small, old and new, comprised the exhibits – mostly with a Lancashire flavour, as you might expect. Looms, planes, trains, bloody huge computers, all sorts of things to excite the discerning science nerd.

But after that, the reason for the visit – off to Didsbury Cricket Club for the show. Yup, these guys play out of a cricket club – the function room, to be precise. One of the fascinating things about this group is how little they have to work with, and how much they make of it. Their show last year took up about half of the room. This year, a quarter – basically the room’s dancefloor. There are only two ways to enter or exit the stage, and the room has nowhere to hang lights, so the group is limited in those respects. But we were nonetheless treated to two funny, entertaining plays – Stars in their Eyes, a short one about a group of astronomers waiting for (and managing to miss) the transit of Venus, and a longer one, Forte!, a story of a small musical instrument shop that manages to give their big corporate competitor the comeuppance they deserve. The latter play required multiple sets, a lot of props and entrances and exits – which must surely be difficult to arrange on such a small stage. But they managed this very well, which is testament to the group’s resourcefulness. After the show, it was off to the Didsbury arms to sample the Hobgoblin on draft. Niiiiiice.

Sunday morning took us to Stockport, that lovely tropical paradise. The Crown pub was the first port of call, and on entering, i could see why I’d heard of its name in legends. Thirteen ale taps I counted, and I had a go of the Atlantic Jade, which proved a wise choice. We were joined by Jennie and James from the Didsbury Players, and went off to visit the Hat Museum – Stockport having once been a capital of millinery. The lowest floor was full of all sorts of crazy hat-making machinery, and the middle floor just full of hats – more than enough to satifsy a former member of the National Hat Society.

After a cup of tea at Jennie and James’s, it was time to return home, where this humble travelog is now being written. I’m knackered, but pleased that I’ve had around 48 hours in one of the most cultured cities I know, and have been able to fit so much culture-vultury in. Huzzah.


Filed under: Apples on Tour, Poetry, Theatre

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