Plastic Analysis

Welcome to a wet and miserable South Manchester where the rain is drizzling down and making my cats wet. You may think this is funny but it isn’t. Off they go outside through the cat flap and spend their time wandering around getting soaked before having a dig in soil and then coming back in, leaving a trail of dirty footprints on the kitchen floor, the windowsills and, arguably worst of all, the clean trousers that I put on this morning. To add insult to dirt, they shake like a dog to let me know how it feels to be outside at the moment. 

The good news this week is that my favourite band of all time, the Canadian band Rush, have extended their tour to include Europe and, in particular, Manchester where they will be playing at the brand new Co-op Arena. There will be a post about Rush coming soon (if you are interested) but the great news is that I managed to get a ticket despite the gig being pretty close to being sold out. Such is their popularity that they have added a second date in Manchester. I have to wait until next year but I already know it will be one of the gigs of 2027 for me. 

Let’s dive into a silly Sunday Stealing survey. 

Silly Survey Questions …

1. Did you/will you have coffee or some other form of caffeine today? 

I will have a cup of decaffeinated coffee later today. I stopped drinking caffeine around 2016 after I realized the effect it had on me. My boss asked me to come in early one Friday to fix something and because I succeeded he decided to reward me with several large mugs of what I can only describe as a nuclear caffeine bomb. I have to say that it tasted delightful but a couple of hours later I was so wired that I didn’t know what to do with myself at all. I’ve heard of the phrase “climbing the walls” but I was more like Spider-man; I honestly thought I could walk on the ceiling. I can’t imagine what I was like to talk to. I decided to eliminate caffeine that very day and that includes in tea. 

There are some places where the concept of decaffeinated coffee is as alien as Mork from Ork. A couple of years ago, I went to Amsterdam for a university reunion and at breakfast in a lovely café I asked the waiter for a decaffeinated coffee. He looked at me as if I had just grown a second head and, in a delightful Dutch accent he said “Decaffeinated coffee? We only have NORMAL coffee!” 

I sometimes indulge in coffee made from decaffeinated coffee grounds when I want to treat myself and that brings back memories of decent coffee from my past. 

I have to add finally that while I like coffee, I prefer tea (the decaffeinated variety). 

2. Who did you last have a text conversation with and what was it about? 

It was to my eldest son who was asking for my sister’s phone number so that he can invite her to a big party he is having later this year. 

3. Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? 

There are hundreds of trains in and out of my city per day. Manchester has two enormous railway stations called Manchester Victoria and Manchester Piccadilly, as well as several smaller ones in the city centre. I can catch a direct train to most other UK major cities from there. For example, trains run to London two or three times and hour and it takes about two hours to travel the 200 miles between the cities. 

The local light railway or trams, called Metrolink, also has a station at each railway station making it easy for most Mancunians to get to the stations from the suburbs and surrounding towns.

4. Have you ever been hospitalised due to dehydration?

I have never been hospitalised. I drink lots of fluids so I rarely get dehydrated. 

5. Someone texts/IMs you just as you’re about to go to sleep. Do you reply? 

It depends on who it is and whether it is urgent. I will ignore it unless it requires my immediate attention. 

6. Do you grind your teeth?  

No – but Mrs PM does. She has woken me up doing it in the past. 

7. When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise, or do you blast it?

It depends on where I am. I have a pair of earbuds and when I am out walking in the morning, I have it on a very low volume so that I can hear what is going on. However, if I am walking on a main road, I usually turn up the volume a little to lessen the impact of the engines of buses, cars and lorries. If ai am in a park I have the volume as low as possible.

On trains, trams and aircraft, I have the volume a little higher to lessen the impact of the engines of the vehicle I am travelling in. 

In a car, I don’t use my earbuds. 

8. Are you wearing nail polish?

Absolutely not. I have never worn it and I never will (unless for some crazy reason I decide to become a rock star or an actor in my old age – and even then I will only do it if I am paid a lot of money to do so). 

9. Do you have an ice maker in your refrigerator door?

No, sadly. I think it would be a useful thing to have. Mrs PM’s dad has one and in the summer it is quite useful. We (or should I say Mrs PM) plan to have a new kitchen in a year or two so we may consider it then. 

10. Do you have a friend named James?

Yes – I have several friends called James. One of my oldest friends, who I met at university, is called James but I haven’t seen him for about twenty years sadly. Closer to home I have an old workmate who I still keep in touch with called James. 

Oddly both of them insist on being called James as opposed to Jim.  I used to work with a guy called Jim and I used to call him “Jimbo” with the emphasis on the “BO”. Why? Because one of the first things he said to me was “Don’t call me Jimbo!”. It’s an unwritten law amongst a lot of blokes that if you react negatively to a name or a nickname then that name will stick. I discovered this to my own cost many years ago and occasionally I have to deal with old friends who still call me a nickname from a few years ago because I objected. 

Myths About Britain - Debunked

 

I was sitting in a bar in Amsterdam many years ago with an British work colleague and a Dutch man who was a customer. We were enjoying a quiet conversation when we noticed two young Dutch guys on the other side of the bar lambasting a slightly inebriated British bloke who was on his own. 

“You don’t care about your children!” declared one of the Dutch guys. “You send your children away for months to school. No wonder you people are the way you are.”

We were slightly uncomfortable hearing this but we ignored them. Eventually the British guy had had enough and left. Unfortunately, one of the Dutch guys heard us talking and the two of them immediately came over to us with a view to continuing their attack on British people. 

“So, you’re English?” he asked us. 

Thankfully, our Dutch colleague turned around and said something to them in Dutch which sounded very stern. Within a minute or two they moved away. 

“What did you say?” I asked. 

He replied:

“I told them that I lived in England for four years and everything they said was a load of rubbish. I told them that their behaviour is terrible and they are letting down Dutch people by being such arseholes.”

This was a one-off because Dutch people are usually laid back and really friendly. However, this unfortunate episode leads me on to some common misconceptions about the place I call home that simply aren’t true. Let’s dive in.

All British people send their kids away to school for months

This is, as my Dutch friend said, untrue on the whole. Also, I heard a French bloke in a restaurant in Paris saying the same thing to an American colleague once. This time I interrupted and told the American that this simply wasn’t true. 

What is true is that we do have public schools such as Harrow, Rugby and Eton (which has barfed out some Prime Ministers like Boris the Clown). Public schools are fee paying and heaped in tradition and deep in the realm of the filthy rich of our country. In public school you will find the children of royalty and nobility and extremely rich businessmen etc. because they are the only ones who can afford them.

The vast majority of kids in the UK, (93%)  go to normal state schools in the same way most other children in the world do. I have only ever met one guy who went to public school and he hated every second of it. He was a really good friend at university and he had what can only be described as a posh accent. 

Talking of accents …

There are only two British accents: the royal accent and cockney

The “royal” accent is what I would describe the accent spoken by Charlie-boy, aka King Charles III. It is known as “received pronunciation”. The cockney accent is the accent of London. The truth is that there are so many accents in the United Kingdom that listing them all would take ages.  Here’s a taster:

My accent used to be “Black Country” or “Yam Yam” which is very close to the Brummie accent in the video above spoken by Ozzy Osbourne. I used to sound similar to him because he was born about ten miles away from Walsall, where I was born. But even in those ten miles, the accent mutated and my original dialect had words that perhaps even Ozzy never used. 

You may also note that the video described that accent “being rated as Britain’s least intelligent” and since I moved away from Walsall I can vouch for this being true. When I moved to Liverpool for university, people used to say “what part of Birmingham are you from?”. I was naïve and said “How do you know where I’m from?, which may have made them think that people from Walsall and Birmingham are as stupid as the accent makes them sound.

This was of course the first time I encountered the Scouse accent (spoken by people from Liverpool). When I tried to open a bank account as a naïve 19 year old, I really struggled because I could barely understand the woman I was dealing with. She was a fully-fledged Scouser and we struggled to communicate because my accent was so strong too. She got my name wrong about ten times and she probably thought I was stupid too.

Over the years, my accent has faded and now I have what Southerners would call a neutral Northern accent. Yet occasionally, my Yam Yam accent surfaces (usually when I am ranting). There is no Mancunian in there (well possibly a hint).

We all live in London

London is the capital of England and the United Kingdom but we don’t all live there. I have been asked by an American, “So what’s it like living in London?”

Now, London is a huge city but it is over two hundred miles away from Manchester. I have friends who live there and I visit the place quite often. It takes four hours to drive there from Manchester and this is why I usually take the train, taking just over two hours. 

But I am not from London and I don’t live there. And the truth is that 90% of travelling people from the UK that you will meet do not live in London either. Some even live in different countries (see below).

That said, London is a good place to visit. I love it but I wouldn’t want to live there at all. It is too chaotic and too busy for me. 

England is the United Kingdom

I was born in England and I live in England. I was also born in the United Kingdom. But the United Kingdom is not England. 

The United Kingdom consists of four countries: England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. If, for example, you were to ask a Scot whether he was English, you may well get a rude reply. Each country has its own devolved government for local issues but the centre of government of the UK is in London, so perhaps I can understand the slight confusion when meeting somebody from the UK. The accent usually gives it away. 

I can imagine that there are other things that confuse foreigners too, especially when I mention the word "British". I am English and I am also British. Where does “British” fit in I hear you cry? Why are we also called Great Britain? 

Allow me to explain. 

See the following diagram.

The big island that contains England, Scotland and Wales is called Great Britain and people who live in all of those countries are British. There are a lot of smaller islands off the coast of Great Britain but they count as British too (for example the Isle of Man and the Isle of Wight). 

The other major island is Ireland and this comprises the Republic of Ireland and Northen Ireland. The islands of Great Britain, Ireland and all the other smaller islands make up the British Isles. From the perspective of Ireland, the Republic of Ireland (or Eire) is an independent country but Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom. Hence the full name of the United Kingdom is The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. 

I hope that clears things up and makes sense.

And Finally …

There are a couple of other myths that need to be debunked so I will do that in another post. 

Coming Home

Mrs PM and I have recently returned from a week long break in Playa Blanca, Lanzarote in the Canary Islands. We were meant to go to Malaysia but Mrs PM’s job situation scuppered that somewhat and forced us to postpone that wonderful trip until 2026. The good news is that the situation is now resolved but sadly it was too late to organise that trip to the Far East. Instead we opted for a short European trip to get some winter sun.

Whenever I am abroad, especially in winter, I barely think of Manchester. As we walked along the promenade after breakfast, listening to the Atlantic Ocean lapping up on the sandy shores and rocks, the dreadful rainy cold weather that we have to endure in February in the UK is so far from my brain that Manchester may as well be on another planet. 

Even the evenings are beautiful and clear in Lanzarote, if not a little chilly. All that means is that I have to wear long trousers instead of shorts as we dine within earshot of the waves. And talking about planets, we actually managed to see a couple of them with the naked eye. Mrs PM mentioned that the news had an article about all the planets being aligned. I love a good sunset and as we were sitting in a bar watching our star slowly descend behind the horizon, seemingly into the horizon, I used an app on my smartphone to find the planets – the app is called Sky Map and well worth a download. Here are a couple of sunset pictures I took.

Mercury was close to the sun but invisible and a bright spot nearby turned out to be Venus. As the sun disappeared and the sky became darker, other points of light in the firmament became visible and, with the aid of Sky Map, I could clearly identify Saturn, which looked a little dull compared to Venus but still there. The app also told me that just below Venus but perhaps too far away to see with the naked eye was Neptune. 

As I moves around the sky, I then identified and saw Jupiter and Uranus. Jupiter was perfectly clear and Uranus, like Saturn, was quite dull but just about visible. 

The only one I couldn’t find was Mars. 

It would have been amazing to have seen this exact sky with a telescope from the desert where there is no light pollution to shield the planets. I remember a trip to Barbados where we had a little session with an astronomer who used a telescope to find Saturn for us. That was amazing and I could even see the rings. 

On our last morning, we had a leisurely breakfast and had time to take a walk along the promenade for a coffee before having to return to the airport for our flight home. I enjoyed sitting by the ocean, listening to the waves and enjoying the clear blue skies and the sun reflecting off glistening turquoise water. 

I felt totally relaxed. 

About eight hours later we had landed at Manchester Airport and were in a cab, driving through the rainy cold streets of my home city. I looked through the rain spotted windows of the cab and the sky was dark and covered in clouds that hid any stars and planets. Part of me was disappointed and I craved sitting by the beach, stargazing while listening to the calm sea. Mrs PM was excited because she was starting her new job the following day and she was also looking forward to seeing her “babies”, that is our two domineering masters, our cats Ziggy and Star(dust).

I allowed my mind to briefly return the scene from eight hours ago, the taste of the coffee, the warm breeze, the sound of the ocean, the colours, the people. 

And then I realised that in a few moments I would be home. 

My home is my castle, the place where I feel most comfortable. It’s like my central office, even though I don’t work anymore and I love being there. My brief longing for Lanzarote gradually faded and once I had braved the rain, entered my house and unpacked, I had the chance to sit down with a cup of tea and think about my trip. Star(dust) put her two front paws on my stomach and stared at me as she purred. She then lay down next to me, clinging to my leg like a feline leech and fell asleep. Ziggy was sitting next to Mrs PM.

I then started thinking about our next trip to Malta in May, where we will be taking Mrs PM’s mum for a celebration of her 80th birthday. I will once again be beside the sea with a chance to explore Valetta. It will be warm sunny and in terms of weather, a million miles from Manchester. 

Mrs PM broke my reverie.

“I’m glad to be home,” she said. 

And, to be perfectly honest, so was I.

Back to the 1990's

After the brilliant 1980’s my life changed once more in the 1990’s and it will remain a turbulent, yet ultimately enjoyable decade – particularly towards the end.

So much changed in the 1990’s in terms of music and fashion with new forms of music evolving from the legacy of the previous decade; at least that’s how it was for me personally. I suspect that as I matured, so did my musical taste. The elements that had shaped my musical choices  thus far were still evident but I was starting to enjoy a deeper appreciation of the actual tones and lyrics of the songs I enjoyed instead of being a young man bouncing away to your average pop song.

The 1990s gave us Indie Rock, particularly in the Madchester scene which was centred on Manchester itself. Some of the bands that erupted onto the music scene from my adopted city became famous overnight and were ubiquitous in the city centre bars and clubs.

Pop music was now rather boring for me apart from some aspects of the Britpop scene and Indie Rock and I sought solace in other genres including my old favourites and grunge.

Here are some examples of the music I liked in the 1990’s.

Tasmin Archer – Sleeping Satellite

Some pop music still appealed to me, particularly the more melodic songs that graced the charts. In the 1990’s I was still listening to the radio in bursts and occasionally a song like Sleeping Satellite would attract my interest with its soulful lyrics and it would stir an emotion in me that reflects the rollercoaster I endured in that decade. Such songs had a distinctive 90’s feel to them, something I struggle to elucidate, so the best thing I can do is let you listen to the song in the hope that you will see what I mean.

The Verve – Bittersweet Symphony

Indie Rock became prominent in the 1990’s and plenty of new British bands erupted onto the scene and shared some success in the charts with other genres that, sadly, didn’t interest me. The 1990s was the decade when I sadly felt that I was beginning to lose touch with tastes of younger people for the first time. I suppose I was growing up a little bit even though you might say that in my 30’s I should have been an adult. Adulthood is a state of mind in my opinion and not something that defines you just because your body is older. Anyway, enough philosophy; Bittersweet Symphony was one of the many Indie songs I enjoyed in the 1990s.

Air – All I Need

Towards the end of the decade, I rediscovered ambient electropop as my life started to settle down again. I found it relaxing and a far cry from some of the heavier music I still enjoyed. In particular, an album called Moon Safari, by French duo Air, completely blew me away in terms of its emotional appeal. This song is from that album. I discovered it by accident while I was working in Hong Kong thanks to a free CD that appeared on Q magazine. I popped into HMV and listened to the album on headphones and fell in love with it. The album is one of my all-time favourites and would be one of my desert island disks. That surprises people who know that I love heavy metal but I like to think it shows my taste is quite diverse.

Nirvana – Lithium

I can’t mention the 1990s without mentioning Nirvana, the band that personified grunge. I liked grunge but for a while it threatened to take over the rock scene completely pushing heavy metal and similar genres out into obscurity. Thankfully it slotted in alongside similar genres. I actually had a ticket to see Nirvana in Manchester when tragically the lead singer, Kurt Cobain, committed suicide. I was deeply saddened by this because the band came from nowhere to be globally famous and the pressure took its toll. This is one of my favourite songs by the band.

Queensrÿche – Out of Mind

Progressive rock was still a niche genre in the 1990’s with a cult following. Rush, my favourite band were still going strong but others were popular on the rock scene. One band in particular, Queensrÿche, appealed to me because their albums in the early part of the decade were intelligent and very well written with thought-provoking lyrics, ranging from melodic ballads to heavy hard rock songs. Out of Mind is an example of the band’s more melodic offerings.

Metallica – Enter Sandman

Any rumours that heavy metal was dying in the 1990’s were totally false. In the 1980’s Metallica burst on the scene as an antidote to the “hair” metal of that decade, with songs and albums that were hard, fast and heavy. As pioneers of thrash, Metallica were responsible for face-melting heavy metal. In the 1990’s however, they released The Black Album and adapted their style to be more appealing to the mass market. Enter Sandman is a heavy song – there is no mistaking it – but it certainly grabbed my attention. It was – and still is – a great song to drive to.

And finally...

The 1990’s was a rollercoaster for me but the music certainly helped me cope with those stormy years. I learned a lot, suffered a lot but left the decade a better man and that makes me happy. I still look back with fondness at the music.

Anger Management

I wanted 2017 be a good year compared to the debacle that was 2016 but so far it is proving to be as bad – if not worse.

I won’t elaborate yet but suffice it to say that I am struggling to contain my anger as well as the other negative emotions that are vying for position.

The good news is that I have a new framework for controlling them – but boy is it hard sometimes.  I want to focus in particular on anger, arguably the most negative and destructive of these emotions.

I have recently been driving to my hometown of Walsall quite a lot and this has been one of many sources of anger and frustration. The distance between Manchester and Walsall is approximately 75 miles and motorways cover all but about five of those miles. On a good day, in the past, the journey has taken me about an hour and fifteen minutes – which doesn’t seem that bad – does it?

The problem is that the main motorway that joins Manchester and Walsall is the M6, which is the worst motorway in the world – or at least in the north of England (if I’m honest).

When I am driving between the two places, the motorway tries to make it as difficult as possible by pushing every single one of the hot buttons that make me angry when I am behind the wheel of a car.

The ensuing road rage is a sight to behold, particularly if you are watching from a distance. If it were a movie, you would grow fat on all of the popcorn you ate as you watched me devolve into a ranting Neanderthal version of myself.

Let me take you through some of the hot buttons.

First, there are major roadworks for four junctions near to Manchester, resulting in the speed limit being reduced from 70 mph to 50 mph. There are 17 miles of this nonsense. During this tedious distance several things happen. There is no hard shoulder so if a car or lorry breaks down or a car has an accident then the whole motorway grinds to an absolute standstill. The motorway is usually busy anyway so we all end up sitting there immobile for what seems like hours on end. Equally frustrating, cars and lorries overtake each other at approximately 35 mph sometimes slowing everybody down completely.

The M6 on a good day!!!

I have crawled along every single mile of that damned motorway at 10 mph! I know every bloody square inch of that motorway in intimate detail!

Next, the M6 is full of lorries. You have never seen so many lorries on a motorway. Some of these lorries travel at 55mph, which isn’t a bad thing until another lorry, just behind, decides to overtake at 56 mph. When this happens, some car drivers lose their minds and swerve into the fast lane without really looking. Others decide to overtake the overtaking lorry at 57 mph thus blocking the motorway for those of us who are in a hurry and travelling at 70 mph. This behaviour causes instant congestion and, depending on how busy the motorway is, can lead to irritating lengthy tailbacks.

Next, the M6 brings out the dick in many drivers’ heads turning them from normal human beings into complete dickheads. For example, there I was in the fast lane overtaking other cars in the other two lanes when Mr Dickhead came up behind me. I was travelling at around 70 mph and this moron roared up at 90 mph and got so close that I thought his car was trying to mate with mine. In my rear view mirror I could see him bashing his steering wheel in frustration. He started flashing his lights.

So where the fuck was I supposed to go? Next to me in lane two were lorries driving nose to tail. I couldn’t have pulled in if I had tried, at least not without causing a major collision.

Did he think my car was Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and could take off just to let him pass?

And these dickheads always seem to be driving a Mercedes or a BMW or an Audi. Is it a prerequisite of buying such a car that you have to mutate into a total dickhead when you get behind the wheel?

And then there’s the person who was in lane two approaching a junction. I was in the slow lane. Suddenly, he realised that he was going to miss his turn off and, without even looking went to shoot across my lane to escape the insanity of the motorway. Except I was there and this pillock was inches from side-swiping my car and causing a major accident. Thankfully, he realised at the last minute and swerved back, missing his junction and making my heart miss several beats.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg, dear reader. This post could have gone on for days and days but I think I had better rein myself in.

The journey generally takes at least an hour and a half with the record being two and a half hours, which included being stuck in the same place for 45 minutes while the emergency services cleared up an overturned caravan.

I am somehow managing the anger because I have my music (a useful tool for dissipating rage as described in my last post) and when the traffic comes to a standstill I tend to escape into a calmer place with mindfulness techniques.

Also, I can rant on this blog post – that’s a great anger management technique.

Manchester

When I woke up yesterday morning I was stunned because the first words I heard on the radio were:

"I know that some people will only just be waking up to the news of the horrific attacks in Manchester last night. This was a barbaric attack deliberately targeting some of the most vulnerable in our society - young people and children out at a pop concert. My thoughts and prayers go out to the families and the victims who have been affected and I know the whole country will share that view."

I raced downstairs to watch the news and discovered, to my horror, that a suicide bomber had detonated an Improvised Explosive Device in the foyer of the Manchester Arena, the city’s biggest concert venue, just minutes after an Ariana Grande concert had finished.

This would be a sickening and evil thing to do normally but in this case it was even worse, if that’s possible because the audience were mainly young people and children. Over the past day or so I’ve watched the news with a heavy heart as events have unfolded. I have seen the faces of children and teenagers in anguish as one of the pop events of their lives, an event that is meant to bring happiness and joy, suddenly became a terrifying real life nightmare.

Amongst the victims were young children, in particular a girl of 8 years old.

8 YEARS OLD!!!

I still don’t know what to say and the horror of what happened is still at the forefront of my mind.

Three weeks ago, my eldest son was at the Manchester Arena watching Iron Maiden. In fact, in the past five years, I have also been there on numerous occasions. It could have happened to any one of us.

I am shocked and upset and my heart goes out to all the victims of this tragedy.

I know exactly where the explosion took place and I know that it would have been really crowded just after the gig had finished. I can barely imagine how people who witnessed the carnage felt.

Knowing Manchester and its people as I do, I was not surprised to discover that people rallied to help.

The police and ambulance service were magnificent.

People heard about the tragedy and drove into the city to see if they could help, offering food and refreshments to the emergency services and people who were clearly distressed.

A hotel opened its doors for those stranded by the event and gave them a room for the night for free.

Taxi drivers took distraught people home for absolutely no charge.

Others gathered up young people and offered them refuge in their own homes until somebody could come and pick them up.

This is what Manchester is and why I love living in my adopted city.

I still cannot fathom why anybody would target such a vulnerable crowd of people. There is no cause on this entire planet that is worthy of such an atrocity.

Since the terrible events of Monday night, the police have made some arrests – in particularly in a suburb called Fallowfield where I used to live and is not far from where I live now.

The city is still shocked but Mancunians will eventually recover – we have done so before after the IRA bomb in 1996 destroyed an area of the city centre. Manchester evolved and grew after that and it will do so again.

We love our city and this will not change a thing.

I will leave you with a poem read out by poet Tony Walsh (known as Longfella) called “This is the Place” which he recited at the vigil following the tragedy yesterday.

This sums up the city and its people perfectly.



Manchester will always be wonderful. Mancunians will always be amazing people.

We will prevail.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 21

My favourite artist over the past couple of years is Steven Wilson, the man behind Porcupine Tree. Today’s song is called Insurgentes, the title track of his first solo album:

Steven Wilson has a great ear for melody and his more mellow songs are simply beautiful, as you can see from today’s choice.

A lot of his music has an underlying theme of melancholy and some of the subjects he sings about are quite dark. For example, the theme of his most recent album is based on the true story of a young woman who moved to the city and disappeared without anybody noticing, despite the fact that she had friends and family. She had died in her bedsit in London and her body lay undiscovered for two years.

When I hear stories like this I am deeply saddened and I wonder how the poor woman could possibly have been missed for so long. If this had been a work of fiction I would have been sceptical about such a thing happening.

But it wasn’t fiction at all and that exposes a massive flaw in the way society functions.

One of the points about the story is that if you live in a small community then everybody seems to know you whether they are your friends or not. I have seen this myself in small villages and towns I have visited.

Small places seem friendlier in many ways. For example, you can stroll into a pub in a country village and immediately local people take notice of you because they don’t know who you are. The same happens in shops and many people will strike up a conversation to find out about you, perhaps wondering if you are going to become a local yourself.

Small places have more of a sense of community and people bond with each other more than they do in a city.

If you live in a metropolis such as London or Manchester, the chances are that you will join millions of others shopping in a huge city centre, eating in one of numerous restaurants throughout the urban sprawl and drinking beer in a variety of pubs in different neighbourhoods. If, like me, you wander around the city you rarely bump into people you know while you are out and about especially the further you go away from your own home.

The point is that in a city like London you can be anonymous whereas in a small community this is more difficult.

At my current time of life, I am still captivated by cities and exploring the place is better if you are anonymous. I know a lot of people in Manchester as you would imagine but there are two and a half million people living within the metropolitan area and it is impossible to build such a sense of community. Manchester United football club regularly cram 75,000 people into the stadium for football matches – that is more people than the population of some small towns and if you ever visit the place it can be daunting when you are sitting in the top tiers of the stadium looking down at the thousands of people all united and focussed on the football.

To be honest, I try not to think about the anonymity in a big city and I imagine that as I get older the temptation to move to a smaller cosier place by the sea will become far more appealing.

Thankfully I am still young and mobile enough to have fun in the sprawl that is Manchester and I hope it continues for many years to come.

Progressive Thoughts - Day 8

Edging out towards the pop end of the progressive spectrum are Electric Light Orchestra a band who combine rock and pop music with classical music and have been a favourite band of mine since the 1970’s.

Today’s song is the first part of a four part piece called “Concerto for a Rainy Day”, which culminates in the final part which is the excellent and most well-known Mr Blue Sky. This song is called Standin’ in the Rain.

Many people in the world picture England as a rainy, dull place with grey skies and miserable people. Elements of that are true, but only small elements. When the rain comes, the sky can become a miserable dark grey colour and the coldness of the raindrops isn’t pleasant. Walking home in the rain is quite depressing particularly if you have forgotten your umbrella.

The rest of this myth is totally false. I regard British people to be amongst the friendliest in the world and certainly the funniest. Maybe our inclement weather helps in this regard. We are willing and able to laugh at ourselves and smile in the face of adversity.

Manchester in particular has been done a disservice in the weather stakes. It rains a lot here but we are not the rainiest city in the United Kingdom by any stretch of the imagination. Furthermore, we are really friendly too. It has been observed that when a Mancunian travels to London, for example, he assumes that he can just turn to the person next to him on the London Underground and hold a conversation. In truth he can’t because, as a rule, Londoners are less friendly.

I have had some wacky conversations with random people in my adopted home city, just in passing. That’s one of the reasons I love the place, despite the higher than average rainfall.

One good thing about the rain is that the areas surrounding Manchester, the North West in particular, are always lush and green. When William Blake wrote the poem Jerusalem, I like to think he was thinking of the North West of England when he wrote the words “green and pleasant land”.

I’m sure he wasn’t because, in truth, the whole of the United Kingdom is as green as it is pleasant.

Anyway, back to the rain. I’ve mentioned this before but, despite the common belief that Manchester is the rainiest city in the United Kingdom, we aren’t. Here is the list:

1. Cardiff

2. Glasgow

3. Preston

4. Huddersfield

5. Plymouth

6. Blackpool

7. Carlisle

8. Manchester

9. Gloucester

10. Liverpool

One of my worst experiences of rain in the United Kingdom was in Glasgow. I was at Strathclyde University for a course in November some years ago and, in the evening, I decided to go for a walk to explore the city. I love walking and just meandered around the dark streets, taking in the sights. Sadly, I wandered a little too far from my hotel and was unsure of the direction back (this was in the days before satnavs).

And then it started to rain.

I was totally unprepared. I had a relatively thin coat on and had stupidly hoped that walking would help me work up a bit of a sweat. It did but then I realised that it had little protection for sudden rainstorms. Accompanying the rain was a biting northerly wind that tore through my flimsy protection and chilled me to the bone.

And then the thunder started.

I have never seen such rain in the United Kingdom. It was like ice and totally torrential. People in Glasgow must have been aware of what it was like being stuck in the cold November rain (perhaps this was the inspiration for the song by Guns ’n’ Roses) and were safely tucked up in their warm houses.

I was alone in the cold wet streets and ended up taking quite a few wrong turns as I searched the city streets for a sign I recognised. Sadly, my glasses were useless because the rain was so intense that I simply couldn’t see a thing.

After what seemed like an eternity, I stumbled on a taxi rank and hopped into the first cab. I was drenched – utterly drenched.

The hotel was just a three minute ride away and the driver’s almost unintelligible Glaswegian accent was no help whatsoever. I couldn’t understand a single word. One thing I did understand though was his mocking laughter as he dropped me off.

Back in my hotel room, I peeled off my cold wet clothes and discovered that the rain had penetrated everything. Only my socks were dry. Even my underpants were soaking wet.

I spent about an hour in a hot shower to warm up.

I have seen worse rain in Singapore, Trinidad and Hong Kong but at least in those countries it was warm.

If you take one thing from this post, it should be this:

Always carry an umbrella with you in Glasgow in the winter and make sure that you know the way back home – or at least the way to the nearest taxi rank.

Thank God It's Christmas

Let’s go forward in time to a history lesson at school, say in the year 2066. The conversation will be:

Teacher: Johnny. Can you tell me when …

Johnny: 2016.

Teacher: But I hadn’t finished.

Johnny: I know. But it happened in 2016 – that was the year that everything happened.

Here’s something else I heard.

FACT: 2016 will be one second longer than 2015.

From Twitter: OH MY GOD! HAVEN’T WE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS BLOODY YEAR?

I will not look back on 2016 with fondness at all. There are many reasons for this most of which are political. We have all witnessed a new trend in political debate on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, where lies abound and post-truth politics is rampaging across the world like a mad beast.

And let’s not forget the legendary people who have died this year, people like David Bowie and Prince amongst others.

Also, I lost my uncle this year as well as my hellcat Liquorice who suddenly dropped dead in the summer. I miss them both.

However, as we approach the end of the year, and since its Christmas, I think it’s time to be more positive, generally. I have finished work for 2016 now and I want to enjoy the last couple of weeks with an optimistic outlook. Of course, I will be reviewing the year just after Christmas but I can let you into a secret – my resolution this year is to try to cut down on ranting and have a much more enjoyable year next year, whatever the hell Brexit throws at me or whatever trouble ensues when Donald Trump finally gets his hands on the Presidential seal.

The first thing I am going to do is consign the following people to Room 101, where everything hellish lives:

David Cameron, Michael Gove, Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson from the UK, all of whom have made me rant mercilessly this year and who I hold personally responsible for Brexit.

And from the other side of the Atlantic, I would like to also put the following people into Room 101 for equally pissing me off:

Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, Ted Cruz and Kanye West.

I don’t know how the US will cope with their president elect suffering Piers Morgan in Room 101 but I am sure you will cope, my friends.

Anyway, no more negativity.

It’s Christmas and we should all rejoice in a time of good year to all men (apart from those I have just locked away forever).

In the past, I have written alternative lyrics for famous Christmas songs so this year I will do the same again. Here are my past efforts:

Jingle Bells

Twelve Days of Christmas

Merry Christmas Everybody 

This time my victim is Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

Dave, the Mancunian blogger, 

Had a giant monkey's nose

And if you ever saw him

You’d laugh at his choice of clothes

He had a Christmas jumper

And a very silly hat

And, thanks to all the turkey,

He was looking very fat

Then one rainy Christmas Eve,

Santa came to say:

“Dave your belly’s such a sight

Won’t you drive my sleigh tonight?”

Dave is now the new Santa

With a giant bushy beard

Delivering all your presents

Most of which are very weird

This may not be my last post before Christmas but I think now is a good time to wish you all:

Merry Christmas

May Father Christmas (Santa Claus if you are American) bring you all the gifts you want.

By the way, kids, the above lyrics are not true, just a figment of my warped imagination.

Imagine seeing a fat monkey with a beard in your house on Christmas Eve.

Stranger things gave happened.

The City Life

My last post eulogised about the English countryside. I think it’s only fair to do the same for my adopted home city of Manchester.

Manchester is in the north west of England, not far from the Welsh border, about 35 miles east of Liverpool, 90 miles north of Birmingham and 200 miles north west of London.

I have lived in Manchester since 1984, that’s around 60% of my life. I was also born in a large town called Walsall, near to Birmingham, the second largest city in England, spending 18 years of my life there, before spending 3 years living in another magnificent city, one that you might have heard of called Liverpool, the birthplace of the Beatles and countless other bands.

What I mean is that city life has been good to me over the years and I simply love the vibe in all of them.

I often visit London too, as I have friends who live there and it is a short two hour high speed train journey away (I wouldn’t drive as that would take hours). In fact I’m heading that way next month for another university reunion.

Living in Manchester is fantastic, for the choice of restaurants and pubs in the city, as well as being served by the busiest airport outside London, a mere fifteen minute taxi ride from my house. It means that I can get away and enjoy travelling to foreign places should I so desire. There are hospitals nearby as well as sporting arenas. Manchester is home to two of the biggest Premiership football teams in the world, Manchester City and, the richest and most famous club, Manchester United. As well as football, there is a famous old cricket ground which is a venue for test cricket, as well as other sporting disciplines like rugby (both league and union).

We have the National Cycling Centre for those who like to ride their bikes at speed on a big circular track as well as speedway.

The city also contains lots of theatres and venues for one of my main passions – music. I have seen every one of my favourite bands in the city either in the enormous arena or one of the many other smaller venues around the city. 

We even have a Hard Rock Café.

I could go on, but instead, I thought I would share some photos of Manchester, plus one or two from London and Liverpool, in particular to give any foreign readers a taste of what it’s like to live in an English city.

I hope you like them.

Beetham Tower - the tallest building in the city

New and old Manchester together

Manchester Town Hall

New and old Manchester - I love Manchester

View from Beetham Tower

Another view from Beetham Tower

Yet another view from Beetham Tower

The Final view from Beetham Tower

The Liver Building, Liverpool as seen from the famous Ferry Across the Mersey

John Lennon statue outside the Cavern Club/Pub

You may recognise this bridge in London

Had I been alive in Henry VIII's time I might have ended up here waiting to have my head separated from my body

Sunrise, Sunset

There is nothing more relaxing that watching a beautiful sunrise or sunset. Manchester is covered with cloud most of the year so it can be difficult to see the sun at all, making it necessary for me to travel to far off exotic places to witness such splendour.

Nevertheless, I have managed to catch a glimpse of the sun rising and falling behind the horizon in my adopted home town.

I have captured a few nice sunsets and the odd the sunrise over recent years – mostly sunsets because catching a good sunrise requires getting up at the crack of dawn (something I prefer not to do on holiday).

I thought I would share a few with you. I hope you like them.

Sunrise

Sunrise in Manchester on a rare cloud-free day

Sunrise in Alaska

A beautiful sunrise in Port Douglas Australia

Sunset

A very colourful sunset in Bodrum, Turkey

The sun disappearing behind a mountain in Majorca

Still in Spain, Puerto Banus

A sunset in Sorrento, Italy

A moody sunset in Cape Cod, United States

Sunset behind a fountain in Geneva, Switzerland

Another rare cloud-free sky in Manchester

A beautiful sunset in Santorini, Greece

A fantastic sunset in Victoria, Canada

I love a good sunrise and sunset and I hope to add more to my collection.

I hope you enjoyed them.