After writing my previous post about Kersal Moor the brief story of Roger Aytoun, gambler, fighter and habitual drunk who married a widow much older than himself intrigued me enough to want to find out more about him though it took quite a bit of digging.
The only son of John Aytoun of Inchdairnie, Fife, and his wife Isabel, daughter of the 4th Lord Rollo, Roger was born in March 1749 and in 1766 entered the army at the age of seventeen. As a junior officer in the Marquess of Lothian’s regiment he was sent to Manchester as part of a recruiting party to raise a new regiment and it was after taking part in a mens’ race on Kersal Moor, which was traditionally run naked, that he met the very wealthy 65-year old widow Barbara Minshull in 1769. Barbara’s late husband Thomas had been a very successful apothecary and she had inherited all his monetary wealth, three properties and extensive land in several areas of Manchester.
The mens’ races on Kersal Moor were looked on as opportunities for females to ‘study the form of prospective mates’ and while Barbara was instantly attracted by the strong physique of the 6ft 4ins Scot he was more attracted to the wealth and status of a very rich woman. In spite of the huge 45-year age difference and the shock and disapproval of Barbara’s friends the pair were married within days at the Collegiate Church (now Manchester Cathedral) though it must have been a sign of things to come when Roger was so drunk on the day of the wedding that during the ceremony he had to be propped upright by some of his army friends.
Barbara had lived at Chorlton Hall in the Chorlton-on-Medlock district of Manchester but as a wedding present to her new husband she gifted him another of her properties, Hough Hall in the suburb of Moston, and they moved in there together after the wedding. Already known for his heavy gambling and drinking it wasn’t long before Roger turned the Hall into a den of iniquity and his profligate lifestyle soon cut into Barbara’s wealth. By 1774 he had squandered most of her fortune and being the master of the house and undisputed controller of her property he sold Chorlton Hall, Garrett Hall and much of her land for £70,000, equivalent to around £14 million in 2024. The sale provided him with enough cash to clear his debts, continue his extravagant lifestyle and to give his wife an annual allowance of £60 – just over £12,000 today.
Not only was Roger a big gambler and drinker he was also addicted to fighting and used his size and bare-knuckle skills in a unique way of gathering recruits for his new regiment. After downing a few pints in a pub he would challenge other pub goers to either a fight or a drinking contest and if he won, which he usually did, the loser would have to join his regiment. Those who chose the drinking contest would find themselves up against a man with a legendary capacity for booze while those who chose to fight would literally be on a hiding to nothing. Either way it would invariably be a victory for Roger – he bulked up the ranks of his new regiment quite considerably and it was his skill with his fists that was the origin of his nickname, ‘Spanking Roger’.
The 72nd Regiment of Foot (Royal Manchester Volunteers) was officially raised in December 1777 and after a final recruitment drive in March the following year the regiment was deployed overseas in June to serve in defending Gibraltar from Spanish attack during the American Revolutionary War. Roger’s love of drinking didn’t stop him from being a good soldier however and he distinguished himself during the Siege of Gibraltar which lasted from 1779 to 1783, although details of his participation are very hazy.
Copy of a Royal Manchester Volunteers recruitment poster
Having gained the rank of Lieutenant in 1770 and Captain in 1778 Roger emerged from the Siege of Gibraltar in 1783 with the rank of Major. The 72nd Regiment of Foot returned to Manchester where he was hailed a hero and according to the Manchester Mercury newspaper ”Soon after his arrival bells were set in motion and joy glowed in every countenance”. Following much feasting on roast beef, plum pudding and strong ale the regiment was disbanded and his regimental colours were deposited first in Manchester Cathedral then in Chetham’s College but unfortunately were lost sometime later.
Not long after Roger’s return to Manchester his wife Barbara died aged 79 and was laid to rest in Manchester Cathedral, then after selling his one remaining property, Hough Hall, and quickly squandering most of the proceeds he moved back to Inchdairnie in 1784. That same year he met and married Jean Sinclair, daughter and heiress of Sir John Sinclair of Balgregie, and went on to have six sons, one of whom died in infancy, and four daughters of whom one died at the age of only seven.
In 1794 Roger gained the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel followed by Colonel in 1798 and finally the rank of Major-General in 1805, the same year that the War Office put him on half-pay. He died at the age of 61 in October 1810 with his widow Jean surviving him by twenty six years; presumably he hadn’t squandered Jean’s fortune in the same way as he did Barbara’s as following her death in 1836 at the age of 79 his descendants inherited the Balgregie estate.
1797 engraving of Roger Aytoun by artist John Kay – photo credit People of Gibraltar
As for Roger’s connections to Manchester, his and Barbara’s names live on in Aytoun Street and Minshull Street not far from Piccadilly Station, in an area of land which he developed prior to selling it in 1775 to fund his extravagant lifestyle. In more recent years a pub in the Miles Platting area was named after him though it was closed down and demolished in 2012 as part of a housing development scheme. Further afield, and inspired by Roger’s unique recruitment methods and his participation in the Siege of Gibraltar, the Gibraltar Distillery Company created an export-strength Spanking Roger London Dry Gin and a Spanking Roger Pink Gin, both with a suitably pugilistic logo and both available in Gibraltar and the UK.
Photo credit Bill Hyde, Manchester Evening NewsPhoto credit The Brand FarmMinshull Street and the Crown Court building on Aytoun Street
Some say that Roger Aytoun died a bankrupt, others that since his marriage to Jean Sinclair and inheriting the Inchdairnie estate from his father he died a rich man, but whichever version is true his disruptive and chaotic character certainly made him one of Manchester’s most glorified villains and a larger than life personality in more ways than one.
Manchester’s neighbouring city of Salford isn’t the place one would expect to find sand dunes but in one of the outlying northern districts just four miles from Manchester city centre is Kersal Moor, a ridge of land formed when glaciers melted at the end of the last Ice Age, leaving a subsoil made up of sand and gravel with a thin topsoil. At one time – and not really that long ago – the moor would have been just rough grassland but now it supports a range of heathers, ferns, mosses, broom and gorse along with several species of broad-leaved trees. I’d never heard of the moor until just a few days ago and with an interesting, unusual history and an area of 20 acres it sounded like a good place for a dog walk, so as it wasn’t too far from home and the late afternoon had turned out to be rather nice I decided to go and take a look.
The moor originally covered a much larger area than it does now and although not actually in Manchester it was the site of the first Manchester Racecourse which existed between 1687 and 1846. Part of the course can still be seen as a wide well-worn path stretching from east to west along the northern side of the moor. Across the road from the south side of the moor is Salford City football club and the stadium entrance is where the racecourse starting post and grandstand were once situated. On the outer perimeter of the track would have been small betting and entertainment booths and in 1841 the census for that year recorded them as being used by homeless people for housing.
Map of the racecourse pre-1846 – photo credit Confidentials Manchester
The racecourse’s location, south of the Lancashire mill towns and just four miles from Manchester, made it a popular destination on race days. The main race meets took place over three days around Whitsuntide, the seventh Sunday after Easter, and brought huge crowds with some events attracting as many as 100,000 people. As early as 1687 race winners at these meets were often given prize money of £40 which was quite a princely sum at the time. Along with much drinking and various forms of entertainment racegoers could also purchase ‘obscene prints’ and participate in gambling with dice, while the huge crowds provided great opportunities for pick-pockets.
One strange custom on the moor during the 18th century was nude male racing, events where females had the opportunity to ‘study the form of prospective mates’. After one such race in 1769 Roger Aytoun, a 6ft 4ins Scot – later to become Major General – was chosen this way by Barbara Minshull, an extremely rich 65-year old widow. While she was attracted by the physique of a kiltless and very much younger man more than 40 years her junior he was no doubt attracted by her status as one of the richest women in the North; they were married within days and her wedding present to him was Hough Hall in the suburb of Moston.
Aytoun had moved down from Scotland to Manchester to recruit soldiers for what was to become the 72nd Regiment of Foot, also known as the Royal Manchester Volunteers. He was a massive gambler and drinker addicted to fighting, earning him the nickname ”Spanking Roger”, and after downing a few pints would regularly challenge pub goers to a fight – if he won, which he usually did, they would have to join his regiment. It was said that on the day of his marriage to Barbara Minshull he was so drunk that during the service he had to be held upright by friends.
Derelict Hough Hall in 2012 – photo credit Tricia Neal, Wikimedia Commons
In 1790 a huge crowd witnessed the unusual occurrence of a public hanging on Kersal Moor when James McNamara was executed for his part in a string of burglaries and robberies in the area. Normally such executions took place in Lancaster, the county town of Lancashire, but a decision was made to make an example of McNamara and as a warning to other criminals he was hanged in front of the crowd on the hill close to the grandstand. It didn’t seem to make much difference however as several people standing within sight of the gallows had their pockets picked and the following night a house in Manchester was broken into and robbed.
Horse racing wasn’t the only sport to take place on Kersal Moor. From the late 18th century the Broughton Archers practised their sport there until 1847 when the archery ground became Kersal Cricket Ground, and in 1818 a group of wealthy Manchester businessmen, some of whom had moved down from Scotland, founded the Manchester Golf Club with a 5-hole golf course. It was only the second course to be built outside Scotland and on May 7th that year they played their first ever game, though fairways and greens were non-existent as the land was often used by grazing animals
The club was very exclusive and by 1825 a club house had been built on nearby Singleton Road. Over time the course increased to nine holes with the rough nature of the ground being reflected in the scores – the highest score ever recorded at Kersal was in 1846 when it took Malcolm Ross 160 strokes to complete the course.
Club members would meet every Friday, play golf on the moor then sit down to a lavish meal. Champagne was imported from Paris for their meals, which typically consisted of a couple of pheasants, three or four salmon and a gallon of port but on one occasion in 1858 Malcolm Ross was the only member who turned up. He played the course, ate all the food – ‘a large cod, a saddle of mutton, a goose, two brace of partridge and all the puddings a man could desire’ – drank three bottles of port then recorded the minutes of the meeting. Members continued playing on Kersal Moor until 1862 when a new course was built a few hundred yards away at Kersal Vale.
The Old Manchester Golf Club still exists today though it hasn’t had a clubhouse or course of its own since 1960, however its 40 members continue to meet and play three times a year on local courses and to mark its 200th anniversary in 2018 members teed off again on the rough ground of Kersal Moor for what was probably the most peculiar round of golf in England, with some members wearing the fashions of the early 1900s.
Kersal Moor was also a focal point for political and social upheaval. In 1818 a protest meeting was held there by coal miners demanding better pay because of the dangers they faced at work, and on September 24th 1838 a crowd estimated by the Manchester Guardian to be 30,000 attended a Chartist rally to protest for political rights for the working classes. The Chartists were active for the next eight months but a second rally, held on the moor on May 25th 1839, unfortunately coincided with a racing fixture and was very poorly attended which led to the end of the movement, though most of the Chartists’ demands were eventually met by Parliament.
As Manchester and Salford became heavily industrialised during the 18th and 19th centuries Kersal Moor became an oasis of interest to amateur naturalists, one of whom collected the only known specimens of a now extinct moth species. In 1829, during several consecutive visits to the moor, Robert Cribb collected around fifty small yellow and brown moths from a rotting alder tree growing by the brook. Unable to identify his specimens he consulted fellow collector, R. Wood, who suggested that Cribb should give him a specimen to send to expert London entomologist John Curtis for identification; Cribb also gave two specimens to another collector, Samuel Carter. The moth turned out to be a previously unknown species but mistakenly assuming that R. Wood had discovered it John Curtis classified it as Pancalia Woodiella in Wood’s honour.
Understandably angry by this, and by subsequent accusations of fraudulently passing off foreign moths as British ones, Cribb gave up collecting and pawned the rest of the specimens for five shillings to the landlady of a local tavern. The debt wasn’t repaid on time however and when Cribb eventually went back for the moths, which he had drunkenly agreed to sell to Samuel Carter, the landlady had already destroyed them. Subsequent efforts by other collectors to find more of the moths proved unsuccessful and the three specimens left in existence – one held by the Manchester Museum, one by London’s Natural History Museum and the third in the Curtis Collection at the Victoria Museum – are thought to be the only representatives of an extinct species.
Manchester moth – photo credit Reach Publishing Services Ltd
Towards the mid 19th century the Clowes family who owned Kersal Moor grew tired of the noise and decadent behaviour at the racecourse and in 1846 Colonel Clowes decided not to renew the lease; the racecourse closed and races were moved to a new track at Castle Irwell across the river. In 1888 the moor was leased to Salford Council who turned the area north of Moor Lane, which cut across the centre of the old racecourse, into a recreation area which included a small pavilion and a drinking fountain established for the benefit of walkers. The pavilion was eventually burnt down but previous to that it was the location of a very sad incident.
Edward Laffa from Pendleton was sitting in the pavilion one day when he heard moaning coming from nearby and a man asking for help. When he looked he found Arthur Young from Broughton trying to commit suicide but somehow finding it difficult to use the gun he held; he said he had felt lost since his wife had died and just wanted to end everything. Laffa went to get help but when he rushed back with the police they found Young was dead; in his possession was a letter for his daughter Martha, signed ‘’From your broken-hearted Dad” – Martha was found in Crumpsall Hospital, where she had been for 32 years. Following this incident the pavilion on Kersal Moor became a place to be avoided and it was eventually burnt down.
In 1936 the Clowes family put the moor up for sale and after a public petition it was purchased outright by Salford Corporation for £7,000, with the cost being added to the rates as a 30-year mortgage. In 1973 the Government-sponsored national campaign Plant A Tree In ’73 was applied to the land, with the council planting a ring of trees around the perimeter while keeping the centre of the moor as an open space. In the late 1970s the history of Kersal Moor was added to when three-times Grand National winner Red Rum paid a visit and trod the sandy soil of the first Manchester Racecourse after attending the nearby Littleton Road Carnival as guest of honour.
Photo credit Reach Publishing Services Ltd
Designated as a Local Nature Reserve in 2007 Kersal Moor is now classed as a Site of Biological Importance. Recently the trees have been thinned out to allow light to the ground in the hope of encouraging the growth of woodland flowers, with the removed branches being stacked into ‘dead hedges’ as shelters for small creatures.
Just outside the eastern boundary of the moor is Grade ll listed St. Paul’s church, built in 1851/52 with an odd double spire, and a convenient roadside parking area was a good place to start my exploration. A wide tree lined path took me a short distance to the open land of the moor and it wasn’t long before I came to the sand dunes although there isn’t a great lot left of them compared to what would have been there many years ago.
Wandering around the various paths eventually brought me to Sandy Hill, the highest point of the moor. During Victorian times local builders would dig sand out of the moor to use in their various trades and this eventually reduced the height of Sandy Hill. Two benches facing east and west now sit on top of the hill and it’s said that from there it’s possible to see the hills of Derbyshire to the south and the Pennines to the north though I couldn’t see anything above the trees other than the top of St. Paul’s spire.
The moor supports a flourishing bird population which includes robins, blue tits, long tailed tits, coal tits, blackbirds, finches, treecreepers, goldcrests and kestrels, though apart from blackbirds I couldn’t really identify the song of any others. Surrounded on all sides by residential areas the moor is an oasis of peace and tranquility and my first visit to a previously unknown area had been very enjoyable. I didn’t explore all the paths around the moor but I did find the sand dunes, and with a drive time of less than thirty minutes from home there’s every probability that I’ll return in the not-too-distant future.
The street art scene in the city centre, especially around the Northern Quarter, continues to be lacking in the amount of new murals; where I would once have visited Manchester regularly, sometimes twice a week as artworks changed so often, my street art hunts are now less frequent unless I’m in the city for another reason. That being so, I’ve accumulated all the artworks I’ve found since mid January into one collection.
First was quite an amusing but grumpy-looking fish/dog and its underwater kennel on one of the advertising walls and not far away a pack of five mosaic dogs stretched along a side wall, although I’ve no idea who either of the artists were. On an interior wall of Yard & Coop chicken restaurant was a smiling fox while an exterior shutter featured a colourful Barbie mural by Katie Scott.
In Stevenson Square a window of Fred Aldous art and craft shop was adorned with a cute cat, the square itself had shed its previous festive images and was preparing for Valentine’s day and round the corner the face of a rabbit paste-up somehow reminded me of John Lennon, while across the narrow back street was one of Ethan Lemon’s trademark green faces.
Round near the police museum I found three more paste-ups – underneath that long black hair is the cute face of a dog – and on a corner in Lever Street was another green face. The end wall of the old Thomas Street/Tib Street substation featured one of Yerp’s grotesque characters while the side wall featured a much nicer and rather amusing duck mural by Hammo. The bookshelf mural was a chance find, spotted as I walked through the streets near the People’s History Museum but I’ve no idea who the artist is.
Back in the NQ a colourful shutter over a side window seemed to be an advertisement for ebay, two more of Yerp’s peculiar characters and a third green face put in an appearance while Stevenson Square has recently undergone a garden transformation in anticipation of the summer weather which seems to be taking a long while to arrive. And finally I couldn’t ignore the two dogs which now decorate the windows at the Fred Aldous shop thanks to Hammo, current artist in residence.
Well that just about wraps up my street art finds from the last four months, and though each month didn’t individually produce a great many artworks I think that adding them all together has created quite a good collection.
Situated on Oxford Road and surrounded by several of the many buildings which make up the sprawling campus of Manchester’s universities the Church of the Holy Name of Jesus, to give it its full title, was built between 1869 and 1871. The church’s predecessor, the Holy Name mission, began after William Turner, the first Bishop of Salford, invited the Jesuits from St. Helens to settle in the city’s Chorlton-on-Medlock district to meet the religious needs of the area’s growing population, many of whom were Irish immigrants, and in 1868 a temporary structure named the Gesù, after the Jesuits’ mother church in Rome, was opened by Bishop Turner. Locally known as ‘The Shed’ the mission’s Superior was Fr Thomas Porter and it was his responsibility to oversee the construction of a permanent church.
The land which the church now stands on was bought for £3,500 with the help of Lady Mary Stapleton-Bretherton, a wealthy land and property owner known for her endowments to the Roman Catholic Church. The architect was Joseph Aloysius Hansom, originator of the Hansom Cab, and the foundation stone was laid by Bishop Turner in June 1869. Designed in the Gothic Revival style and built of brick faced with brushed Warwick stone the church’s dimensions and proportions are on the scale of a 14th-century cathedral, being 186 feet long east to west and 122 feet wide.
Although it became famous for having a short rectangular tower with a flat roof the church was originally designed with an impressive lantern tower and spire. Had it been completed the entire tower would have stood at a massive 240 feet high with its grandiose design matching the building’s imposing Gothic exterior and cathedral-like interior, however the city authorities refused to allow it as the sheer size and weight would be too great to sit on top of the church. There were concerns that it could crumble under its own weight, bringing the rest of the church down with it and causing major disruption to the surrounding streets and houses; it was a risk that couldn’t be taken so the spire was left off the finished design, giving the church a distinctive much shorter flat-top tower.
The church opened for public worship on October 15th 1871 and in 1895 the funeral of Sir Charles Hallé, founder of Manchester’s famous symphony orchestra, filled the building and streets with huge crowds. Various alterations to the church continued into the 20th century and in memory of Fr Bernard Vaughan, a renowned preacher who served as the church’s rector from 1888 to 1901, the tower was finally completed in 1928 to the designs of ecclesiastical architect Adrian Gilbert Scott which brought the total height to 185ft, though both the stone and the style differ from the rest of the church. Three years later a ring of fifteen bells, cast by Gillett & Johnston of Croydon, was installed in the tower for the 60th anniversary of the church.
Hansom’s original design of Holy Name Church – picture credit, British Jesuit Archives
Postcard photo of Holy Name Church in 1907 – picture credit, British Jesuit Archives
Scott’s 1920s design for the tower – picture credit, British Jesuit Archives
Holy Name Church as it is today
For over 90 years the Holy Name flourished, even when it sustained some blown out windows and damage to one of the turrets during the Second World War, but during the 1960s programme of slum clearances and the demolition of the surrounding area the church gradually lost most of its former 10,000 parishioners when they relocated to other areas. In 1985, with its viability in question, the then bishop asked the Jesuits to close the church as the congregation had dwindled so much that the building was closed for most of each day anyway.
In 1989 the building became Grade I listed, having previously been given a Grade II* listing in 1963, then in 1992 the Jesuits moved out, to be replaced by an Oratorian community of priests and lay brothers hoping to form the Manchester branch of the Oratory order. In 2012, under Fr Raymond Matus, the Oratorians relocated to St. Chad’s church in the Cheetham Hill area after Bishop Terence Brain granted them permission to establish the Oratory of St. Philip Neri; the Jesuits returned to the Holy Name and since then the church has been home to the universities’ Catholic Chaplaincy. Now open every day it’s the only Grade I listed building on the universities’ campus.
Having previously checked the times of any services I visited the church around mid morning on a weekday and found I had the place to myself for most of the time I was there. Entering through a revolving door from the main front porch I was immediately struck by the spaciousness of the nave – this had been achieved by constructing the vaulted roof from hollow terracotta tubes meaning the columns supporting it could be kept unusually slender in their own construction, while a broad shallow sanctuary with no rood screen added to the feeling of spaciousness.
The stained glass windows in the sanctuary were beautiful and the colours were stunning but they were quite high up, some were on an angle and the sanctuary itself was out of bounds so it was impossible to get any really good shots of them all. To the left and right of the High Altar were four side altars, two on each side and each had its own colourful window.
Tiled floor in front of the Sanctuary
The Lady Chapel was completed in 1872 with the altar being a gift from a Portuguese merchant; made in Paris it’s a small-scale reproduction of the altar in the city’s Notre-Dame-des-Victoires. The Sacred Heart altar and the Holy Souls altar were both completed in 1885 while the St. Joseph altar was one result of Fr Bernard Vaughan’s successful fundraising for features to enhance the church.
The Lady Chapel
The Sacred Heart altar
The altar of the Holy Souls
The altar of St. Joseph
The whole of the north aisle of the nave is taken up by confessionals though some of these have been converted into meeting spaces; the south aisle features three side chapels and between the confessionals and the chapels are the carved Stations of the Cross. The three side chapels were originally just one chapel dedicated to Madonna della Strada (Our Lady of the Street) but in the 1980s it was discovered that the external wall was sinking so to give it greater strength the three internal arches were filled in, with the smaller chapels subsequently being created.
The first of the smaller chapels remains dedicated to Our Lady of the Street and the middle chapel, which I couldn’t photograph as there was someone in there, is now dedicated to persecuted Christians and features life-size figures of Christ on the cross with St Mary and St John on either side. The third chapel, established by the Oratorians during their 20-year residency, is dedicated to Blessed John Henry Newman (1801-1890) founder of England’s first Oratorian community who became a Cardinal in his later years.
The Lourdes Grotto
The pulpit must be one of the nicest and most unusual ones I’ve seen so far. Installed by Fr Vaughan during his years as the church’s rector and placed within the congregation rather than at the front of the nave it incorporates marble panels inside, an ornately carved canopy and mosaic panels of five English Martyrs : John Fisher, Thomas More, Edmund Campion, John Forest and John Houghton.
And finally, the organ – located at the west end of the nave it was built in 1871 by William Hill & Son of London. It was completely rebuilt in 1926 by Messrs Wadsworth Ltd of Manchester, restored in 2004 and currently maintained by David Wells Ltd of Liverpool. The ornately decorated pipes on the front of the case were restored to their original colour scheme of lighter shades of red and green with gold motifs, while two gilded angels stand high above the organ and choir loft.
View taken from the choir loft – photo credit, Alex Ramsay for the Taking Stock project
Well this post has turned out be much longer than I intended, mainly because of all the lovely features of the church which deserved to be included. These photos are only a third of the total number taken and even then I didn’t photograph everything. The Holy Name has a beautiful interior, with Fr Vaughan being responsible at the time for much of the fine decoration, and it was well worth taking a few hours out of my day to make the visit.
Just recently I got wind of a large and very new nature-themed mural situated on the side of a building in Stockport town centre – it’s quirky, colourful and has a great story attached to it so when I saw the picture of it I scrapped any plans I had for the day so I could go and see it for myself. I’d never been to Stockport before and it meant changing trains at Manchester’s Piccadilly station but unlike the aggravation I had a couple of weekends ago this time everything went according to plan.
Covering an 18-metre by 4-metre wall the mural, the largest of it’s kind ever showcased in the UK, was unveiled during last weekend’s celebrations to mark the end of Stockport’s stint as Greater Manchester Town of Culture. Supported by bosses at the Merseyway Shopping Centre and fully funded by the UK Shared Prosperity Fund (UKSPF) it was masterminded by local artist Caitlin Atherton, co-owner of local recycling community benefit society Plastic Shed.
Several years in the planning the mural has been handcrafted using recycled boards and around 80,000 plastic bottle caps collected and donated by local groups including schools, colleges, nursing homes, cafes, offices, gyms, churches, restaurants, charities and youth groups. Over 150,000 screws were donated by screw manufacturers Optimaxx via the Stockport branch of Wickes, meaning a large chunk of the budget could be used on 100% recycled plastic boards, which in turn meant the reuse of an additional 891kg of plastic waste.
The mural was easy enough to find, just a ten-minute walk from Stockport station, but I was a bit disappointed to see that the nearby wide pavement had been blocked off by temporary barriers so I couldn’t get an uninterrupted view of the whole thing, and the narrow walkway immediately in front of it meant that I was too close, so most of my photos are of separate parts of it.
This is obviously a mural which looks better viewed from a distance so it’s a pity those barriers were in front of it; photographing sections of it at such close quarters wasn’t ideal, however now I’ve got the photos on the pc I find it helps to sit back from the monitor. It’s a great mural and a credit to the artist, and it was well worth taking three hours out of my day to go and see it.
As part of this month’s mosaic art trail round Manchester city centre one of the artworks is located within the Royal Exchange Theatre just a 7-minute walk from Victoria Station. Although I’ve walked through the next-door Royal Exchange Arcade many times I had never been in the theatre before I went to look for the mosaic and to say I was amazed by what I saw is an understatement, however more of that later.
The present Royal Exchange dates back to the early 1870s and is actually the third Exchange to be built. The original Exchange was built in 1729 by Sir Oswald Mosley, the Lord of the Manor, in what was then known as Market Place; the open-sided ground floor was a place for business folk, merchants and manufacturers to meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays and strike deals, while the upper floor was occupied by the Court Leet, the ancient Court for the Manor of Manchester. Unfortunately the town’s industry hadn’t yet reached the levels that required a dedicated business exchange and over the years parts of the building became used for different purposes, with raucous cock fights being a common occurrence. With the ever-present pungent aroma of the butchers’ stalls in the nearby Shambles and the building itself gradually falling into disrepair it was eventually demolished in 1792.
The first Exchange – photo taken from an information panel in the current Exchange
Ironically that was the time when Manchester’s involvement in the cotton trade was beginning to gather momentum and the need for a dedicated business meeting place soon made itself clear. In 1804 work began on a second Manchester Exchange, designed by architect Thomas Harrison with the £20,000 cost being paid for in advance by 400 members who bought £50 shares and paid £30 each to buy the site. Situated on part of the current site the new building opened in 1809 and was a very lavish affair accessible only to members paying a subscription of two guineas per year. New facilities included a well-stocked newsroom, a Post Office, a bar, and a dining hall which could house an orchestra and double as a ballroom, while space was rented out to retailers including a tailor, a hatter, and a rare books and paintings dealer.
As the cotton industry continued to expand so did membership of the Exchange, leading to demands for a much larger building. Between 1839 and 1841 the Post Office and some of the interior walls were removed and the main room was extended but there still wasn’t enough space to accommodate the ever-increasing number of members so the Exchange Committee planned a totally new extension. This was completed in 1849 and effectively doubled the size of the building; when Queen Victoria, Prince Albert and other members of the Royal Family made an official visit to Manchester in October 1851 the expanded Exchange was deemed suitable to host the large-scale civic reception. The following month the Home Secretary informed Manchester’s Mayor that Victoria had given the building her seal of approval and from then on it should be known as the Royal Exchange; a large sculpted coat of arms was added to the exterior of the building in honour of its updated status and two years later Manchester itself received official city status as the population had passed 300,000.
The second Exchange – photo taken from an Exchange information panel
As Manchester’s cotton industry continued to flourish it was decided to expand the Exchange building yet again. Though various possibilities were discussed, including relocation, it was eventually decided to demolish the existing building and replace it with a larger Royal Exchange built on the same site. Designed by Mills & Murgatroyd, construction of the third Exchange began in 1867 and was done in two stages. Phase 1 opened in 1871 and by the time phase 2 was completed and opened in 1874 membership had risen to 6,600. The new building was ten times the size of the original Exchange and had a Great Hall measuring 206ft by 96ft with three glass domes 120ft above its centre. It was often referred to as ‘the biggest room in the world’ and though this was more of an honorary title than an actual fact it could still lay claim to being the largest commercial room in existence.
The third Royal Exchange – Photo credit Confidentials Manchester
The biggest room in the world – Photo credit Royal Exchange Theatre
With the cotton industry continuing to grow and prosper membership of the Royal Exchange had reached over 10,000 by the early 1900s and it became necessary to expand the building once more, with Bolton architects Bradshaw, Gass and Hope appointed to draw up plans and oversee the work which was started in 1914. The grand portico at the front of the building was taken down and the main entrance moved to the rear, while a new second hall, a mirror of the original, doubled the size of the trading area.
Photo credit Our Manchester
The largest single commercial room in the world now covered 1.7 acres with the building itself containing 250 offices, 38 shops, 6 restaurants and a post office; the scale of the extension was so large that today’s 90-seat studio theatre fits neatly into what were then the gentlemens’ toilets. Due to delays and disruptions caused by the outbreak of World War 1 it took seven years to complete the work, with the newly enlarged Exchange being reopened in 1921 by King George V and Queen Mary in front of a 15,000-strong audience gathered in the extended hall.
By the late 1920s the Royal Exchange controlled more than 80% of the world’s trade in finished cotton and membership had passed 11,000. All good things come to an end sometime though and the bubble of a hugely successful cotton industry finally burst in the 1930s. Decades of almost unbroken growth and healthy profits were replaced by a steady decline in trade as Manchester gradually lost out to countries with easier access to raw materials and cheaper labour costs. The Government’s attempts to protect the industry came too late and membership of the Royal Exchange inevitably declined.
In December 1940 the Exchange lost its claim to be the biggest trading room in the world when the 1874 half of the building was seriously damaged after taking a direct hit from an incendiary bomb during the World War 2 ‘Manchester Blitz’. It was rebuilt between 1947 and 1953 but with a smaller trading hall and a much simpler exterior, while the top stages of the clock tower, which had also been destroyed, were replaced in a simpler form. The building was finally reopened by Princess Margaret in November 1953.
After the blitz – photo credit Manchester Libraries
By 1960 membership of the Exchange had fallen to 2,062 and the City Council gave permission to reduce the size of the trading hall by half and build two floors of offices in the unused space. Eight years later modern technological developments had transformed how industry deals were conducted and the Exchange seemed to serve very little purpose; just 660 members remained and the Master of the Exchange announced its impending closure. Trading, such as it was, continued right up to the end of the year and on December 31st 1968 the Royal Exchange trading hall closed its doors for the final time.
The Royal Exchange today – Cross Street/Market Street corner
The evolution of today’s Royal Exchange Theatre began in 1973 when the City Council invited the 69 Theatre Company, based at Manchester University Theatre, to construct a temporary performance space within the Exchange’s Great Hall which had been vacant since its closure five years earlier. Built from recycled materials including scaffolding, old hoardings and discarded theatre seats the roof and exterior were draped in fabric, which led to it being nicknamed ‘The Tent’. Seating 430 around a circular stage it was intended to fulfill its purpose for only three weeks but it proved to be such a success that it stayed up for ten months.
The Tent was eventually dismantled in February 1974 and in October that year the building became Grade ll listed, but The Tent had paved the way for something much bigger, better and permanent. Finances were raised via fundraising events and gala performances in other venues, substantial grants came from the Arts Council and Manchester City Council plus donations came from local businesses and private individuals, including many prominent actors, and from late 1974 the 69 Theatre Company staged productions in the nave of Manchester Cathedral. On April 14th 1975 work on the Royal Exchange Theatre began and by early 1976 the 69 Theatre Company had been officially renamed the Royal Exchange Theatre Company.
Designed by artistic director Richard Negri, one of the theatre company’s founding members, the futuristic seven-sided tubular steel and glass module cost £1.2 million to create. Encircling a central open stage 450 seats rise from the Exchange floor with two galleries above, each with 150 seats set in two rows. During construction it was discovered that the floor of the Exchange would be unable to take the theatre’s 150-ton weight so the upper galleries were suspended from the four square pillars which support the large central dome, with only the stage level seating connecting the structure to the floor. The finished theatre was officially opened by Laurence Olivier on Wednesday September 15th 1976, launching with a production of Sheridan’s ‘The Rivals’ with a cast which included Tom Courtenay and Patricia Routledge, and over the years since then the Royal Exchange has established itself as one of the country’s most significant theatre companies with many well known actors appearing there.
In June 1996, just over a week into what was intended to be a month-long production of Stanley Houghton’s ‘Hindle Wakes’, the Royal Exchange suffered extensive damage when the IRA truck bomb exploded just fifty yards away. Fortunately the theatre module itself was unaffected as it was set on lorry shock absorbers as part of the acoustic system, but it took two years and a National Lottery grant of £32 million to repair and refurbish the building. The theatre’s central dome, which had moved several inches in the blast, was stabilized and re-glazed, every pane of glass was replaced, all the internal walls were replastered and repainted and a second but smaller performance space, The Studio, was created with an automated 7-line flying system and its own foyer and bar. A restaurant, bar, and rooms for corporate hospitality were created round the perimeter of a lighter and brighter main hall and state-of-the-art audio and lighting equipment was installed. The refurbished theatre was re-opened on November 20th 1998 by Prince Edward, with the opening production being ‘Hindle Wakes’, the play which was so dramatically cut short the day the bomb exploded.
Today the Exchange’s Great Hall is a visitor destination in itself, open six days a week from 9am to 5pm unless there’s a performance taking place. With small themed exhibitions and displays, comfy settees in quiet corners, a hideout on the balcony and a public lounge vistors are welcome to pop in any time for a leisurely coffee, to grab some lunch or just sit and read a book or work on a laptop.
The Cross Street side of the Exchange
The St. Ann’ s Street side
Photo taken June 2022
When I went in the theatre earlier this month I was quite unprepared for what hit me – through a combination of contrasting paint colours and strategic lighting this place had so much ‘wow’ factor that I almost forgot to photograph the mosaic I’d gone to find. Needless to say I spent quite some time wandering round, soaking up the atmosphere and photographing everything which could possibly be photographed.
The production at the time, ‘Shed : Exploded View’, was on the last day of its run and I could have booked a seat for the later performance but having previously read the synopsis I wouldn’t want to watch it, however I did get a photo of the shed which apparently got dismantled at the start of each performance.
A random elephant
Up on the balcony I found the lounge and the hideout and right at the end I got a good view of the original trading boards set high up on the wall, showing the closing figures on the final day back in 1968 when all cotton trading at the Exchange ended permanently.
The history of this building is fascinating; the Great Hall is amazing, the ‘new’ works well with the ‘old’ and the colours are stunning – if I hadn’t been looking for a mosaic artwork I probably would never have gone in there but I’m so glad I did.
Just over a week ago a morning full of blue sky and sunshine prompted me to ditch the housework and drive the 20-miles to Preston marina and old dock. It’s a place I hadn’t visited for several years and there was a part of the area which I was keen to explore.
The history of Preston Dock dates back to 1884 and though I’ve written about it previously I think it’s interesting enough to repeat it for anyone who wasn’t following my blog back then. Although Preston itself is 16 miles from the coast boats were travelling along the River Ribble to and from the city for hundreds of years. In 1825 the New Quays, later named Victoria Quays, were constructed but with the river being tidal boats could only get in and out at certain times and as ships gradually got larger the waterway became a problem.
The solution lay in the building of a large dock basin with a set of locks to control the water level and construction began in 1884. The river was moved away from its original line and four million cubic yards of soil were dug out of a 40-acre site, creating a dock basin 40ft deep, 3,000ft long and 600ft wide – it took a month to fill it before it could be used for the first time and it was the largest single dock in Europe. Such a large project required a large investment however and the initial £500,000 budget was soon exceeded, with the council needing a further equivalent amount resulting in a mortgage which would take over sixty years to pay off.
The dock was officially opened in 1892 by Queen Victoria’s son Prince Albert Edward (the future King Edward Vll) and was named after him, and the SS Lady Louise, chartered by E H Booth & Company (now better known as Booth’s supermarkets) was the first ship to unload its freight there. Only four ships used the dock in its first year but by the turn of the century that number had risen to 170 and was still increasing; the main imports were timber, china clay, coal, oil, petrol, bananas, wheat and Irish cattle. In 1936 new Art Deco style dock offices opened nearby and two years later a dock railway was added to the site.
During WW2 the dock was taken over by the military and used as a marshalling post, then in 1948 the first ever roll on/roll off ferry service was introduced, sailing to and from Larne in Northern Ireland using the SS Cedric, a former tank landing ship. Trade increased throughout the 1950s and the port was so successful that the original mortgage repayments were no longer charged on Preston residents’ rate bills. By the 1960s the port was at its peak and holding the record for handling the largest amount of container and ferry traffic, but by the early 1970s it was starting to flounder as nearly half of the income generated was being spent on dredging the river to allow access for increasingly bigger ships. Larger ships meant that fewer could use the port and trade began to fall away; the city lost many of its imports and the Larne ferry stopped running as it was unable to compete with ports such as Liverpool which could offer a faster turn-around time. Preston’s port became uneconomical and in 1979 the decision was made to redevelop the site; the dock finally closed in 1981 with a great number of job losses and a major redevelopment of the area started in 1982.
After dealing with the polluted water and land a new road infrastructure was put in place and over the next several years a huge amount of work was done. The lock gates were repositioned to stop flooding from storms, a boatyard with chandlery facilities was constructed and the original railway line which ran on the north side of the dock was removed, with a new line being laid on the south side between the river and the dock basin. A swing bridge was installed over the dock entrance for the passage of vehicles, trains, pedestrians and boats, and a new Dock Control Centre was built close to it, although industrial railway traffic eventually ceased in 1995 with the line subsequently being operated for leisure by the Ribble Steam Railway Company.
Many modern homes have been built on the strip of land between the river and the south side of the dock with the old Shed No.3 being converted into Victoria Mansions apartments, while the north side of the basin features many retail and leisure developments with Homebase, Morrison’s, Halford’s and Pets At Home now being just a few of the stores along that side. A pleasant promenade runs round three sides of the dock with the swing bridge making the fourth side, and the west end of the basin itself is home to a 350-berth marina which opened in 1987.
My walk started from the free car park overlooking the water on the north side of the dock basin and just across the road was the lighthouse situated outside the Morrison’s store. There seems to be very little information about this, with some sources saying it was built many years ago to guide ships into the dock and others saying it was only built in 1986 during the dock regeneration and the building of the supermarket, but regardless of which version is true it’s an attractive structure and worth a photo or two. Passing Halford’s, Pets At Home and the Ribble Pilot, a modern pub/restaurant established in 1992, the promenade took me round the end of the dock basin and onto the residential south side.
Looking across the old dock basin – at 3,000ft long, 600ft wide and 40ft deep it’s huge
A distance along I came to the sign pointing between two apartment blocks to the Riverside Walk and through a small estate of modern houses with open plan gardens I crossed the access road and a level crossing over the railway line, which brought me down a grass bank and onto a wide tarmac path running between there and the river. The path forms part of the 21-mile circular Preston Guild Wheel walking/cycling route, eventually turning away from the river and crossing the west end of the dock basin via the swing bridge; I’d been that way a few years previously but this time I headed into the unknown along a rough tree lined track which continued to follow the line of the river.
It wasn’t long before I left the trees behind and the path took me onto a pleasant area of open land with a couple of benches to sit and take in the views over the river; this was the Bullnose, part of the entrance to the outer dock basin and now a popular place for fishing. Behind the huge lock gates a narrow pedestrian bridge took me across to the far side of the basin and another section of the Guild Wheel running past the back fences of a few modern houses, and set back on a corner was a huge black painted ‘thing’ which had no information but was presumably something left over from the docks and put there as a feature.
Looking west from the Bullnose
Looking east
The outer basin at low tide
Passing the Ribble Steam Railway Museum and a large warehouse, both of which I could see through the trees, the path took a right turn onto a road but there was a gap in the nearby railings and a rabbit track led me down to the riverside. It didn’t go very far though and as I didn’t want to risk falling into the water I just took a couple of shots looking back towards the Bullnose then retraced my steps. On the corner where the path joined the road was a large and very odd looking red brick building – there was nothing anywhere to tell me what it was but with its close proximity to the railway museum it could possibly be an old engine shed.
Back over on the Bullnose a minor road led from there past the outer basin and a long row of modern houses then across on the far side and not far from the swing bridge was the boatyard. Across the main road a pleasant green and the Dock Control Centre overlooked the entrance to the main basin and on the corner was the huge 100 ton crane built in 1958 to remove the lock gates from the water for refurbishment on dry land. Made of Greenheart timber and Iroko planking the gates weigh 98 tons each – large flotation devices were fixed to each side, enabling them to be floated out of their fittings and brought to the crane for lifting. The crane is still used today but only for lifting and lowering larger boats.
Across the swing bridge and at the start of the promenade on the north side of the basin was the Beach Hut coffee bar and tucked in a nearby corner was something I didn’t expect to see – a row of five brightly painted but very small beach huts. They hadn’t been there on my previous visit to the area and with no indication as to their purpose I assumed they were connected to the nearby Dragon Boat Racing Club. Continuing along the promenade I passed several modern two-storey blocks of office suites and the marina then finally I was back at the car park where I left the van.
It was unfortunate that after the lovely sunny start, where at one point during the walk I was able to shed my jacket for the first time this year, the sky clouded over and the afternoon had turned quite dull. It had been a very enjoyable walk though and it had been good to discover somewhere new – and with Preston being not too far from home maybe it won’t be too long before I do it all again.
I suppose there are many people who have the odd day here and there when everything seems to go wrong and they wish they had never got out of bed, well that was me yesterday. Happy Mother’s Day? – well no, it wasn’t.
After not being able to find the John Wayne mosaic at HOME arts venue on the art trail in Manchester a week ago I found out from the trail’s organiser that it would be reinstated in a different part of the building so yesterday I went to see it, with the idea of visiting somewhere else in the city beforehand, however right from the start things didn’t go according to plan. The train from my nearest station should have been just after mid day but by 12.30 it hadn’t arrived; now this station isn’t exactly in the middle of nowhere, it’s in the centre of a large housing estate, but there’s absolutely no train information anywhere, so I decided to get a bus from a nearby stop and go to the main interchange in town.
According to the bus timetable I would only have a couple of minutes to wait, however the main road seemed to be much busier than normal with a long queue of traffic and the bus was almost ten minutes late – I found out later that the delay had been caused by a two-car crash further up the road. By the time I got to the main station I’d missed a Manchester train by about thirty seconds; looking at the information boards it seemed that many services were cancelled (according to various tannoy announcements ”due to unscheduled timetable changes”) and I had half an hour to wait for the next train.
I finally arrived in Manchester at 1.45pm, only to find that the first of the two places I was visiting was closed, so I hopped on a tram which would take me to the station nearest to HOME where I could see the John Wayne mosaic. There was an art exhibition in part of the ground floor so once I’d photographed the mosaic I had a wander round there, and though I liked some of the artworks on display, especially the cats, many others left me less than impressed – they were pointless, stupid, and some of them could have been created by a five-year old child in just a few minutes.
A child could probably do better than this ‘creation’
A pointless jumble of taped together computer parts – I wonder how long it took to think this one up
After wandering round the exhibition I decided to go to the cafe/bar and it’s a good thing I wasn’t dying of thirst and starvation or I would have been in a heap on the floor by the time I got served. Now when it comes to food I’m not that hard to please but I dislike spicy stuff and everything on the menu included peppers and other spicy things so I opted for coffee and cake; the slice of rainbow cake was good when I finally sat down but the coffee wasn’t exactly hot. It was raining when I came out of HOME so deciding to cut my losses and come home rather than go anywhere else I got the tram back to Victoria station but getting back here proved to be almost impossible.
The 3.40pm train going to my nearest station was cancelled, as was the next one half an hour later and the one after that, however a guy at the information stand told me I could get the Southport train to my main station. It meant waiting an hour so I went for a wander round the nearest shops to kill some time, however when I finally went for the Southport train I found it didn’t come through my home town at all – the guy at the stand had given me the wrong info. So I asked another guy and was told my only option was to get a train from Piccadilly station; it was another tram ride between stations and a good walk from the Piccadilly tram stop via various moving walkways to the main concourse, and by the time I’d found the right platform I’d missed the next train by less than a minute!
By this time I’d just about lost the will to live but as throwing myself in front of the next moving object wasn’t an option I went to ask a sensible looking young lady at the barrier and was assured that I could get the next Windermere train which would stop at my main station. Another 50-minute wait and I was finally on a train going in the right direction, however when I got to my main station my journey wasn’t over. I still had to get from there to the car park at my local station where I’d left the van – and the next bus wasn’t for another half hour. By this time though I’d had enough of waiting around so I phoned for a taxi which dropped me off at the station car park and finally, at almost 7pm, I walked through my own front door.
I don’t know what it’s like in other areas of the country for train drivers going on strike – it’s been happening here on and off for several months but normally I don’t have any problems getting to and from Manchester on Sundays. Yesterday though was just a nightmare, even the young lady at the Piccadilly station barrier had said it was really bad. I won’t be going to the city for a while now however, though I think the next time I venture that way it will be on any day except Sunday!
For more than 200 years Manchester has had a sizeable Irish community and today it’s estimated that around 35% of the city’s population has some Irish ancestry. The annual Manchester Irish Festival, the biggest such event in Europe, has been a feature of the city for over thirty years and this year’s festival, running from Friday March 8th to Sunday March 17th, will see 200 events take place across 80 locations within the city. To coincide with the festival a series of seventeen mosaics, created by mosaic artist Mark Kennedy and depicting several well known Irish personalities, have appeared in various venues as part of a month-long art trail which started on March 1st, and yesterday I went on a mission to track them all down.
Although I’d downloaded and printed out a map of the locations they weren’t listed in any sensible order so to avoid any back-tracking I plotted my own route around the city starting from Victoria Station. The first two mosaics, singer Sinead O’Connor (1966-2023) and ‘The Pogues’ Shane MacGowan (1957-2023) were just a very short walk from the station and I found them in the entrance at New Century Hall.
In the cafe at the National Football Museum I found George Best although the artwork was in a cabinet and it was difficult to get a decent photo without a lot of light reflection, then along the road Brendan Behan, poet, playwright, novelist and activist (1923-1964) was located in the Royal Exchange Theatre.
In Gallery One on the first floor of the People’s History Museum was the Countess Markievicz mosaic which was one I’d been particularly interested in seeing as a few years ago I saw a statue of this particular lady in Dublin. It’s a statue which is unique among all those in Dublin as it also includes the subject’s dog, a Cocker Spaniel named Poppet, and there’s an interesting little story connected to it. It’s one which I related back in 2019 after a holiday in Ireland but I think it’s worth repeating for anyone who wasn’t following my blog back then.
Constance Markievicz (1868-1927) was an Irish politician, revolutionary, nationalist and suffragist, playing quite a part in Ireland’s fight for independence. Just before the 1916 Easter Rising she had the task of making a flag for rebel headquarters but with the shops being closed for Easter she had to improvise so used a green bedspread stretched out on her drawing room floor. While she was trying to cut out the shape Poppet kept pulling at the material until he tore a piece out of the side but undeterred the Countess carried on, painting the words ‘Irish Republic’ in gold. The flag was then smuggled into the Irish Citizen Army headquarters in Dublin and from there taken to the GPO to fly from the roof during the rebellion.
The flag is now on display at Dublin’s National Museum, a revered symbol of the Republic’s foundation although a rather damaged one. It’s believed though that the damage wasn’t all Poppet’s work; half the ‘c’ in ‘Republic’ is missing, presumably shot away during the Rising, but if the original story is true then what was finished by the guns was actually started by an unruly spaniel.
Back to the mosaic hunt and in a window at the Science & Industry Museum was the John F Kennedy mosaic though unfortunately it was situated right where two opaque bands are incorporated across the glass pane. Back in November 1963 Manchester-based Granada Television beat the rest of the country to be the first in Britain to announce that President Kennedy, America’s first Irish-Catholic president, had been assassinated. Thanks to a tip-off, news anchorman Mike Scott told northern viewers of the tragic event in Dallas half an hour before news reached the rest of the country.
A few minutes walk from the museum took me to 53Two theatre bar and the mosaic of Irish dramatist, poet, writer and theatre director Samuel Beckett (1906-1989) then another few minutes took me to HOME theatre, though I was destined to be disappointed with this location. ”The Quiet Man” mosaic was said to be situated in the entrance but I couldn’t find it anywhere and the two staff members I asked hadn’t a clue what I was talking about, however a nice young lady in the box office knew. Apparently it was a mosaic of John Wayne in the film of that name which was shot on location in Ireland but it had been removed not long after being put on display because someone (she didn’t say who) had taken offence and complained about it, however I’ve found a picture of it on the trail organiser’s website.
Photo credit – The Irish Nation website
Next on my list was Bridget O’Donnell situated in a very appropriate place near Oxford Road Station. In 1827 many poor-quality houses were built in the vicinity of the station and the area became populated by hundreds of Irish immigrants living in appalling conditions. Still known to many locals as Little Ireland the area quickly became a slum and was eventually demolished around 1877. Born in County Clare, Ireland, Bridget O’Donnell faced the horrors of starvation, eviction, and the loss of her husband and four children during the potato famine of 1845-1852. In December 1849 her image, reproduced in the mosaic, appeared in The Illustrated London News and over the following years she became the face of the Great Famine.
It was quite a long walk from there along Oxford Road to the next mosaic at the Royal Northern College of Music. Phil Lynott (1949-1986) was the frontman and principal songwriter for the rock band Thin Lizzy and though at first I didn’t think I would get to see this mosaic I persevered and finally found it, though it wasn’t where I first thought it was.
Back in the city centre I found writer, poet and literary critic James Joyce (1882-1941) in the Central Library where I stopped at the cafe for a hot chocolate and a sandwich, then suitably refreshed I went the relatively short distance to the Portico Library where I found Seamus Heaney (1939-2013) poet, playwright and translator.
On the first floor in Affleck’s I found the mosaic of Manchester-born Morrissey, singer/songwriter and frontman of the 1980s band The Smiths, and in the Manchester Craft & Design Centre was the Eileen Gray mosaic. Eileen Gray (1878-1976) was a pioneering Irish architect and furniture designer, known for her innovative modernist approach and though for a long time she was very much overlooked as she worked in a male-dominated movement her contributions to modern design still influence today’s architects and designers.
The next mosaic unfortunately wasn’t the easiest to photograph. Katie Taylor, born in 1986, is an Irish professional boxer and former footballer; a gold medallist at the 2012 London Olympic Games she became Ireland’s first female boxing champion. The mosaic was situated just inside the entrance to the Koffee Pot restaurant but red lights shining on one side of it meant I had to take the photo at an angle.
At the top of the stairs in a specialist book shop on Great Ancoats Street I found writer, poet and playwright Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) then a short walk away at Halle St. Peter’s was Luke Kelly (1940-1984) lead vocalist and banjo player with the Irish folk group The Dubliners.
The Luke Kelly mosaic was the last one on my list and after five hours of trekking round the city centre and beyond it was time to get the train home. I was mildly disappointed not to have seen the John Wayne mosaic but I’d found sixteen of the seventeen on the trail so I think I can say my day was quite successful.
Having recently discovered that Lytham and St. Annes now have live webcams overlooking Lowther Gardens and the sea front at St. Annes pier I was idly checking them over breakfast earlier in the week and saw that both places were bathed in sunshine and blue sky. On a dull grey day here at home it looked perfect for a visit to Lytham Hall, however things weren’t as straightforward as I would have liked them to be.
For months now it seems that whenever I travel north from here, regardless of where I’m going, I get hit by some sort of delay en route and this time it was roadworks on the A584 near BAE Systems at Warton Aerodrome. The roadworks themselves weren’t extensive, maybe only a hundred yards or so, but they were on a 4-way junction with the road reduced to a single lane controlled by temporary lights and there was a long queue of backed-up traffic; it took me a good twenty minutes to get through and by that time I was almost losing the will to live.
Then there was the weather. Just as the webcams had shown, it was lovely and sunny when I finally arrived at Lytham Hall but in less than half an hour the sky had clouded over, the sunshine had completely disappeared and I was left with the same grey cloudy day as it was back home. As for the snowdrops, I don’t know if their coastal location means their season ends earlier than those growing inland but compared to the ones I saw at Weeping Ash Garden just a week earlier these were past their best, but they were still worth a few photos.
As I wandered round the lawned areas it was nice to see that since my visit last year a few different features have been added to the South Prospect garden, including newly-dug flower beds and an archway over the path, although with nothing to say who the newest statue is supposed to be it was hard to tell if it was a masculine-looking woman or a guy with a man bun.
Round in a corner of the courtyard an old wooden trailer contained chunks of tree trunk, foliage, and three cute ornamental deer, the sales area was full of pretty flowering plants in pots and tubs, and in the animal hub Macbeth the pig was snoring contentedly on his bed of straw and the guinea pigs were enjoying the warmth of their heat lamp.
The cafe, as is often the case, was extremely busy and people were queueing right out through the door so I abandoned my idea of having a coffee there and drove up to my usual cafe at St. Annes instead. Then I had to face the drive home. Without going miles out of my way to find an alternative route I had no choice other than go back through the roadworks at Warton; this time the traffic queue seemed to be worse than before and what would normally be a journey home of just less than an hour actually took me an hour and a half.
Several weeks of cloudy and mostly wet weather have meant days out with the dogs have been non-existent so leaving aside the traffic queues and unwanted grey sky it had been good to get out for a few hours, and hopefully the next time I drive to Lytham those roadworks will have ended.
Life In The Mouse House 