30 hour holiday

We set off at 4pm for Manchester - well, that was the plan. It didn't occur to me to question Jim's off hand reply that it would take about 3 hours so we'd have a pub meal when we got there.If I actually considered it, 3 hours to drive 270miles would have been pushing it just a tad. We finally left the office at 5, faffed about at home for a bit (why I felt the need to wash the kitchen floor before we left,I have NO idea) and finally waved goodbye to a bemused dog at 6o'clock. We arrived at midnight.

Jim had a committee meeting to go to for the day so I was off to explore The Lowry and that area of Salford Quays. After weeks of unrelenting rain, the sun was out which was just as well as I hadn't even considered the possibility that it might rain and had no brolly and a non-waterproof coat. The sun glinted off the glass and steel of the surrounding modern architectural delights, reflected back off the water in the docks into my eyes, like an annoying kid playing with a mirror, directing me away from The Lowry to follow the will-o-the-wisp to the water's edge.

The last thing I expected in Manchester was peace and serenity, but that was exactly the atmosphere by the water. Distant, muffled clonking and whirring of machinery at building sites over the other side of the water was the only sound to disrupt the silence. Not even lapping of water. I was entranced. The whole place was spotless - no litter or mess, no mud, no dog crap. Everything looked brand new.

I ambled over to the courtyard area by the BBC building - neatly planted and pristine. A tram pulled in silently and a swarm of people seemed to melt out of it and disperse to different corners of the courtyard, disappearing into buildings and leaving the place practically empty once again. A giant TV screen high on 2 steel pillars  was showing the news and it really did look like a scene out of Back to the Future.

I read the engraved words on a sculpture, part of a trail - memories of people who worked or lived by the docks, tales of the bustling lives, busy trade, hard work and deep rooted history of the docks. I really couldn't see any way that the silent, clinical, sterile area I was now standing in had any connection to that past - there weren't even any boats.

Now feeling a little disconcerted I wandered off to take photos of another sculpture on the trail - grasses, another link to the history of foreign trade and imports of the area. I crossed over the bridge, pausing half way to absorb the sun and listen to the silence - no birds. A cyclist passed me, a single pedestrian, a lady with a small and perfect little dog, 2 tourists with cameras. I took more photos of the architecture but started pining for a bit of nature. Trees! I saw some back over the other side of the river and crossed via another bridge which was being decorated for the Olympics by three man in climbing gear. I practically skipped down to the trees - 2 rows of them lining a path parallel to the water. Even these were perfect, not a leaf out of place, all identical. I began to feel I was on a stage set before all the actors had arrived. Fed up with all this perfection I strode off to the 'outlet mall' (shopping centre) to find a notepad to do some writing.

As I stepped inside, the sky darkened and rain began. By the time I had toured round the unbelievable depressing, uninspiring and empty mall and stepped back outside, the sun was out again drying the wet paving stones.

Now, into the Lowry. There was a film starting as I got to the top of the escalator, a short documentary about the life of Lowry which I found moving and helped me to appreciate the works in the exhibition. I sat and gazed at one of the seascapes, some of Lowry's later works after the death of his mother, and the loneliness was evident. The colour of the sea at the horizon seemed to change as I stared, and the sea seemed to move - it felt like watching a film through the eyes of the artist. I smiled most of the time that I was walking around the exhibition. The pencil sketches of odd, surreal figures appealed to me, and I spent time actually looking at the industrial townscapes that I have always thought of as the only style and subject that Lowry painted. Reading that he only ever used 5 colours made me look closer, he used thick white paint as backgrounds to lighten his images having been criticised early on for being too dark. And that I think is their real appeal, to me anyway, he saw the dirty, dusty, busy and dark industrial areas and painted them as clean, light and quite empty places. Like the clinical areas I had just seen outside.

After  having an overpriced but tasty bowl of soup in the Lowry cafe while I wrote in my new notebook, I went back up into the galleries to see the Annie Lennox exhibition. I wasn't enamoured, didn't really see the point other than idolising her. It was interesting in places, I loved the small amount of photography and I did like the idea of the booths that you put your head inside to look at some memorabilia while speakers played tracks from albums - I could see that working in an art exhibition. Watching some of the videos killed a bit of time before I went in search of a cup of tea and somewhere to do more writing.


The Imperial War Museum - now that is a visit that could take all day - I spent an hour exploring there after some tea and writing. I loved the art and sulpture, but had to stop after reading about 10 of the post it notes written by soldiers in the diary room in conflicts as I was in danger of starting to sob. The film presentations in the main exhibition area were again very moving and I'm sure most of those watching were glad of the dimmed lighting afterwards to hide their tears. I'd like to go back again and am keen to go to the IWM in London now, having never been.

Feeling chilled out, uplifted, inspired, emotional and slightly better educated, I met up with Jim and we started the long drive home. The M6 was blocked so the satnav diverted us through some glorious countryside with views of the peaks (Peover is one of the names I recall) and we saw the Jodrell Bank telescope suddenly loom out of the green trees and hedgerows. Another bit of industrial magic. We got home at midnight.

Now, all of the photos I took of local sussex scenes featuring pylons and cables are waiting for me and I'm ready to start my new body of work! :)