I’m back in Winchester now, and this post is late because I got back early yesterday morning and went straight to bed. My last day up north was spent in Manchester.
By the way, I promised a photo of Pat’s cat. Here it is:
I didn’t take too many photos of Manchester because a lot of our day there was looking in shops, having lunch, and touring an art gallery. There are some really cool, artsy shops up there. I only wish I were rich enough to buy everything they had on display. Guess I’ll have to go back someday.
By the way, we were walking along in Manchester when Pat just suddenly says, “That was Christopher Eccleston!” So I was like, “Huh?” And he pointed at some guy I had literally just passed, like, within arm’s reach, and was like, “Christopher Eccleston!” And all I saw was the back of some tall guy’s head and it could have been Christopher Eccleston but I will never know for sure. But I’ll say this: Pat’s a shit liar so it probably was. I only saw the back of his head though. That was it for my brush with fame. A literal brush as we passed each other.
I forgot to warn Pat about how much time I spend in art museums (like here, here, and here, for example). We ended up staying until the absolute last minute. Pat liked the landscapes and animals, I liked the casual portraits and impressionist paintings. There were a lot of cool things to look at. Everything from Francis Bacon paintings to some robot wheelchairs that were in love. They moved around on their own and printed off love notes for each other. The notes when printed would just fall to the floor and would never be read by the chair they’re meant for, and they can never see each other even though they occupy the same space. Because they’re wheelchairs. I took one love note from each.
Note to self: Maybe don’t take advice on writing love notes from robotic wheelchairs, eh?
To commemorate the end of my stay up north, Pat’s mom made a truffle, I think.
Okay, I looked it up. It’s a trifle.
It was my first-ever trifle. It was delicious. It also looks like a party, which is making me re-think the phrase “not to be trifled with”.
Anyway, I caught the train back to Winchester at 8-ish and arrived safely in my room at 1am after travelling the length of the country.
Goodbye, North England. It’s been fun.