If you are approaching Manchester from the South you will probably come across the Mancunian Way, which (perhaps disappointingly) is not a phrase we use to mean 'the way we do things round here and you can take it or leave it you big Southern jessie', but is in fact a three-lane concrete flyover (much beloved of motorway aficionados, apparently) which allows cross-town traffic to rise above the main rail and road arteries leading into the town centre and drop down again on the other side in a matter of seconds (or during rush hour in more like an hour and a half). This is the purpose for which the Way was designed- but it seems increasingly to perform another function: separating the nouveau-riche Castlefield district from its estranged neighbour, the once riot-torn, and still defiantly inner-city district of Hulme. The Mancunian Way, then, is our Berlin Wall, and my office- sitting high up and just on the 'respectable' side- is a sentry box, from where I can see bedraggled refugees from the the M15 postcode making a break across 6 lanes of traffic for the chance of a better life on the other side, where they have heard the streets are paved with gold, and there are delicatessens selling salmon fishcakes at £2.50 a go.
The district of Hulme, despite impressive regeneration efforts, has something of an image problem, and it seems most people in our office would as soon spend their lunchtimes in east Berlin as tread its mean streets. But being of an adventurous disposition (and reckoning the risk of being mugged to be one worth taking if it means avoiding making small talk with Sharon from accounts in the checkout queue at Sainsbury's Local) I have taken to making the occasional sortie across the brand new passenger bridge and into Manchester M15. So far I have lived to tell the tale, and have even come across some unexpected delights, such as:
Hulme Park
This expanse of green greets the intrepid traveller immediately on stepping off the passenger bridge. Being newly landscaped, it lacks those staples of British park life, the delapidated Victorian bandstand, wooden shelter expecially designed for teenagers to swig cider and snog in, and great big pond full of mangy ducks and rusty bicycles. On the plus side it does feature a basketball court and a slopy concrete area where kids in cheesecloth shirts perform death-defying somersaults on ridiculously small bicycles. Try not to visit Hulme Park between one and two o'clock, as this is when the little old man takes his big scary rottweiler for a walk, or at least desperately holds onto one end of the lead while the enormous slavering beast attempts to break free and tear limb from limb anyone foolish enough to stray within 50 feet, especially if they have a steak-and-kidney pie in their hand and look like they may not be able to run too fast (fortunately, I was just quick enough and made it onto the bridge with seconds to spare).
Hulme Neighbourhood centre
Housing a library, an adult education centre and a cafe. Read the latest Beryl Bainbridge, learn some basic accountancy, and then enjoy a chili con carne and a big cup of tea for £2.50.
The Salutation pub
Hidden away behind the university, a curious day-time mix of art-school type students and old fellers supping Guinness while taking all afternoon to complete the Daily Telegraph crossword. Cheese and ham toastie, £1.50.
And much, much more, including
-the Arch Bar, a possibly ill-fated attempt to bring Castlefield-style trendiness to M15. Friday nights: smart-casual dress compulsory, handguns optional.
-Jafi, the Thai Cafe Which Never Has Anyone In, where I went in once and they looked very surprised at the sight of a paying customer- but recovered admirably and even brought me some noodles.
More on those delights, maybe, another day. In the meantime, why not spend a lunchtime in your own once-scary-but-now-really-quite-delightful inner city district, and tell us all about it. You have nothing to lose (except maybe your limbs to the teeth of a pensioner's dog). Mind how you go, now!
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