Manchester for Salford University

Friday's day trip to Manchester was most enjoyable, and the perfect day out, where everything worked, even though not always quite as intended.  My itinerary had been planned around a 9:20 am arrival in Manchester, which would allow me time to revisit my old alma mater. That isn’t a term I’d normally use, as despite its derivation it’s one used much more by our American friends, than it is over here. My “nurturing mother,” to use the literal translation of this Latin term, is the University of Salford, an institution where I studied at from early October 1973 through to late June 1976.

The 5:00 am start was worth it, and with the sun having only just risen, when I left the house, combined with the almost told absence our vehicles, the only sound was that of birdsong. It was nice to be out and about early for change, although it's not something I want to make a habit of. I walked down to Tonbridge station and jumped on the 5:30 am train to London Bridge. I was actually booked on the 5:40 departure, but I'm a great believer in getting to one’s destination earlier should the opportunity arise.

From London Bridge there are the joys of the Northern Line, and whilst the revamped overground station has been a great success, it's now quite a route march down to the underground, in order to make my cross London connection to Euston. I still arrived in plenty of time, enough to grab some breakfast, as despite setting my alarm clock early, it wasn’t early enough, not even for a quick bowl of cereal, before leaving home.

Unfortunately, my choice of “food to go” wasn't a good one, as the "Ultimate Breakfast Roll" from Upper Crust, failed to deliver, certainly in terms of taste. Grilled bacon, and sliced sausage, topped with a fried egg slapped in a bun and then re- heated in a powerful microwave, seemed like a good enough bet, but whilst the end result was filling, it was totally lacking in taste, and the only saving grace was the cup of flat white coffee.

There is an outdoor space in front of the station, complete with fixed, sturdy, wipe down tables and benches. It is adjacent to where the new HS2 Terminal is supposedly being built. I say supposedly, as a strapped for cash, UK Government, has put the new station building on hold for the next two years, and possibly longer, leaving an unsightly hole in the ground. This abandonment must seem particularly galling to all the businesses whose premises were purchased (and demolished), to make way for the new station, and the uncertainty surrounding yet more dithering by a government that has run out of ideas, continues to affect affecting the lives of local residents and business owners alike.

My train was shown as running on time, and as soon as the departure platform was announced I made my way down slope and boarded the 7:13 am Avanti West Coast service to Manchester Piccadilly. The train was comfortable, clean, and above all fast, the journey taking a mere two hours and 8 minutes, with just three stops on the way (Nuneaton, Stoke on Trent, and Stockport). Avanti have come in for a lot of criticism since taking over the West coast mainline franchise from Virgin Rail, but on this occasion, everything worked like clockwork (the same applied on the return journey as well), and on a dull an overcast morning, plagued by intermittent drizzle, I walked out of Piccadilly station for the first time in nearly 50 years, and headed into the heart of Manchester.

My plan was to catch a train to Salford Crescent station, opposite the university, but my research wasn’t sufficiently thorough, as it was only after buying my ticket at Manchester Victoria, that I discovered I could have travelled there from Piccadilly. It didn't really matter, because the walk through the city’s main shopping areas, allowed me to experience central Manchester up close, for the first time, in nearly half a century. Considerably more of the centre has been pedestrianised than I remember, but the most striking thing was the Arndale Centre, completely rebuilt after the devastating IRA bomb of 1996, that devastated a wide area of central Manchester, including the hideous looking Arndale Centre.

Work on the centre was well underway by the time I arrived in Manchester, and towards the end of my time in the city, the Arndale Centre opened to much fanfare. Like many locals, I was not alone in thinking that the Arndale, with its exterior of hideous yellow tiles, assembled a public toilet! It’s probably too harsh a comment to make, given the people injured by the blast, the businesses destroyed and the huge cost of rebuilding the city centre, but from an aesthetic and practical point of view, the Provisional IRA did Manchester a favour, which wasn’t just confined to the removal of those awful, yellow tiles.

Walking towards Victoria station, the thing that struck me most is the reconstructed centre looks outward, with shops along many of the streets bordered by the centre. In the 1970s original, the majority of retail outlets were inward looking and could only be accessed from inside the Arndale itself. So, despite the destruction, the injuries, and the enormous cost of the rebuild, Manchester at last appears to have a shopping centre it can be proud of.

The University of Salford was also much changed, as I discovered after exiting Salford Crescent station, and walking the short distance to my former seat of learning. Salford Uni was a very young institution back in the 1970s, and whilst plans had been drawn up to expand the university, (including a model of what the place would look like in the future), these had obviously changed during the intervening years. Fortunately, there are still a number of buildings in existence today, that I recognised from my time there.

These included the grand and ornate Peel Building, constructed in 1896, as Salford’s Technology Institute and College, which was the origin of today’s university. Its attractive, red brick and sculpted terracotta façade looks out across a lawn towards another building I recognised, and it was there that I headed to first. Known as the Maxwell Building, this 1960’s construction overlooks the neighbouring Peel Park, as well as the River Irwell. I entered and after telling the lady at reception that I was a former student asked if it was OK for me to have a wander around the site. She told me that would be fine, and although term had finished for the academic year, some of the buildings were still open, and I could take a look inside them, should I wish.

I thanked her and headed off for a nostalgia tour around the site. On the way I stopped for a look inside the red-brick, Salford Museum & Art Gallery, an institution which housed paintings from the city's most famous, and best-known artist, the painter LS Lowry. The art gallery in particular, had provided a welcome refuge from academia, so I was looking forward to seeing some of Lowry’s work. I of course, should have realised that the paintings have now, all been rehoused in the purpose built, Lowry Centre, at Salford Quays.

Fortunately, one memorable painting I remember from my student days was still on display, and it had the same impression on me, as it did nearly 50 years ago. It is by the English painter, John Charles Dollman, and is titled, “Famine." The photo above, probably doesn’t do it justice, but with its vision of a shrouded “death” surrounded by a pack of starving wolves, set against the backdrop of a bleak and frozen landscape, it’s enough send shivers down anyone’s spine!

Time was getting on, so after a quick tour of the rest of the Peel Park Campus, where the only building I recognised was University House – home then, and now of the Students Union. This was a space where both students, staff and academics could relax, enjoy a drink, in one of two bars, or a meal in the ground floor restaurant. With term time over, it wasn’t very busy, so I made my way back to the station, ready to head back into central Manchester. On the way I received a WhatsApp message, from pub-ticker extraordinaire, Retired Martin, saying he would meet me at Sinclair’s Oyster House, close to Manchester Cathedral.

The message wasn’t completely out of the blue, as we had provisionally arranged to meet up, depending on Martin’s other commitments, so it was a nice surprise to hear from him, frustrated only by my having just missed a train and then finding the following one cancelled. I shall continue the narrative in the next post, as it details the four city centre pubs we visited together, as well as the two I called into on my own.