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.

Return to Manchester - after half a century's absence

In March 1978, I packed my worldly belongings into a hired Ford Transit van, said goodbye to the flat in the village of Romiley, that I had shared with the previous Mrs Bailey, and headed off south in the direction of London. After graduating, my then wife had secured a permanent, and well-paid job in the capital, and after a couple of months of living on my own I was heading towards London as well, in order to join her. More importantly, I wasn't just leaving Romiley, I was saying farewell, after four years, to the conurbation that is Greater Manchester, in order to start a new life back down south.

In late September 1973, I had left my parents comfortable middle-class home in Kent, to take up a place at the University of Salford. I was a rather shy and self-conscious young man with an interest in rock music, and in particular what came to be known as “prog rock.” Somewhat ironically, my stay in the Manchester area began in the town of Romiley, when my aunt and uncle kindly offered me room in their spacious and modern, detached house, on the edge of this large, Cheshire village. They made this gesture because there was a shortage of student accommodation at the university, and unlike other hardier "freshers," I really didn't fancy kipping down on the floor of the sports hall!

I left Manchester a wiser and more confident individual, having acquired a wife, an honours degree in biology, a taste for good beer, and an appreciation of unspoiled pubs. I'd also engaged in a lot of different student activities, been on several field trips and, during the summer of 75 (isn’t that a Bruce Springsteen song?), had gone off Inter-railing, spending a month travelling by train, all over Western Europe with a friend who I'd made during my first week at university.

I missed Manchester, particularly when I arrived in London and the harsh reality of finding a job hit home. My wife and I also had to find somewhere to live, because whilst her parents kindly allowed us to stay in their Wandsworth home, it was rather cramped, and at times, rather strained. I soon picked up work as an office temp, working stints at the British Medical Association and also at the BBC. I hasten to add, as I was employed in the Purchasing Department of the Beeb, located in a converted Georgian house in Cavendish Square, there wasn’t the glamour of Television Centre or Broadcasting House.

So, whilst work was quite easy to find in the capital, accommodation was much less so. Eventually we struck it lucky and found a two-bed flat, occupying the first floor of a large 1930s semi, in Norbury. For those who don’t know the capital well, Norbury is situated between Streatham and Croydon. During our time there, we made a few return trips to Manchester, staying with my Inter-railing friend, who had remained in the city, after securing a post as an Environmental Health Officer, with Manchester City Council. Eventually the lure of the capital, where his parents still lived, was sufficient for my friend to find a similar position back in London, and those long weekend visits to Manchester came to an end.

A decade or so later, having changed houses and employers a few times, and with a new wife as well, I found myself back in Manchester for a flying visit in order to attend a course. I can't remember what the course was about, but at the time I worked for a company that manufactured and sold food supplements - vitamin and mineral pills to you and me. This was a lucrative market to be in, and it provided me with gainful employment for the best part of a decade. I'm estimating this visit would have been in the early 1990s, in effect 30 years ago, but it didn’t allow much time for exploration or sight-seeing.

It is with much excitement then, that I announce shall be making a return visit to Manchester this coming Friday (tomorrow). It's only a day trip, but it's one I've been wanting to make for a long time. I came quite close on a couple of occasions, the first being January 2018, when I'd made plans to attend the Manchester Beer Festival. Unfortunately, those plans were scuppered when Mrs PBT's ended up in intensive care, following a bout of pneumonia, which then developed into sepsis. Fortunately, she made a full recovery, but it was touch and go to start with.

The second occasion wasn't actually a trip to Manchester, but rather was a “Proper Day Out” exploring the pubs of nearby Stockport, in the company of some of a handful of members of the Tapa-Talk, Beer & Pub’s Forum. With Manchester just 7 miles away from Stockport, it was a case of so near, yet so far, so what was it that prompted me to make that long overdue visit? 

 Well, I had some unspent birthday money from Eileen and Matthew, and whilst it wasn’t exactly burning a hole in my pocket, using it for a day out exploring a location I had last enjoyed properly, half a century ago, seemed a good idea. My return train journey wasn’t exactly a bargain, as whilst Advanced Return rail tickets were available, they were nowhere near as cheap as the tickets purchased, over the past couple of months, to cities such as Norwich or Birmingham. For example, my return ticket to Brum was in the region of £22, whereas my ticket to Manchester cost me £75. Still cheap, but pro-rata significantly more expensive than my visit to Birmingham.

I've an early start, as my train gets into Manchester Piccadilly at 9.19 am, and I shall then be heading off, by train from Victoria station to my old stomping ground of Salford University. After a look around the campus, to see how much it’s grown over the past half a century, I shall be bussing back into central Manchester for a tour around some of my favourite pubs, which include a couple of National Inventory entries. I’ve got quite a list, but all are proper pubs, which excludes trendy craft-ale bars, full of hipsters, and serving over-priced murk. 

In no particular order, the pubs I’ve marked for a visit are, the Hare & Hound, the Unicorn (for the Draught Bass), the Old Wellington + Sinclairs, (both pubs were under wraps, and several feet in the air whilst the Arndale Centre was being constructed around them, when I was last in Manchester), the Marble Arch, the  Peveril of the Peak, which will allow a chance for a look at the G-Mex Exhibition Centre. The latter was formerly Manchester Central station, but it was used as a car park when I was last in the city. There are several other pubs too, including the two next door to each other in Kennedy St, if time allows, but my return train is the 17.35 from Piccadilly. Quite a day then, and there will no doubt be a few reports, when I return.

The final thing is I don’t have that many relevant photos to illustrate this post; certainly, none taken during the 1970’s. There probably are some, stuffed away in a box at home, but none of them are digital. Also, with the hassle associated with old-fashioned 35mm film (getting it developed, and then printed), people just didn’t take photos with the frequency and in the number they do today.

I have included instead, a couple of the photos that Amberley Publishing, allowed me to use, when I reviewed their well-researched and well-illustrated book, Central Manchester Pubs, written by Deborah Woodman. You can read the review again here, and seeing as I am giving their publication another plug, I trust I am not abusing the permission they gave me, or infringing any copyright.