12:00.

I hadn’t intended to be on a train to Manchester right now. My day had been set as I was expecting to be at home waiting for a plumber to check out our boiler. Only he came early. Dawn’s out for the day as it’s her mum’s birthday, so I was sat twiddling my thumbs after completing my chores, and thought ‘bugger it, i’ll nip out for a few hours’.

As usual, the weather’s dank and dismal but that doesn’t matter in a city, where rainy reflections and opportunties abound.

Let’s see what I get up to…

13:00.

For once, it wasn’t actually raining in Manchester when I arrived. This gave me time to amble over to Piccadilly whilst observing life (and photographing trams) en-route without getting soaked.

Piccadilly was even more deserted than on my last visit. Even the engineers trains had decamped. All that lingered inside the trainshed was the smell of fresh paint.