Mysterious dustpan

Every city has some kind of bizarre street art lurking around corners, but this particular piece of art my cameraphone spied on the corner of Hilton Street and John Street in the Northern Quarter really was in a league of its own. There's no sign, no plaque, no visible explanation of what this 10ft stainless-steel structure actually represents - apart from a dustpan and brush of course. But does it have any deeper meaning, any metaphorical reference? It's a pretty good example of the sort of things that can be found in this part of the city. The Northern Quarter is the hub of all things artistic, avant garde and bohemian, with numerous independent bars, shops, galleries and cafes. So, while not surprising, it still seems a little odd because it's not connected with the artistic world. Upon my research of this matter I found very few explanations of the structure, except a short article on the Baby Bugle's website. The artwork was unveiled on 7th June 1999 to commemorate the work of ordinary people during the regeneration of the Nortern Quarter and coincided with a public 'sweep in' to mark the event. A noble gesture then, but nothing is displayed about the reason for this remarkable structure at the site. So it seems that to the majority, the dustpan and brush remains simply an amusing point of interest.
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Tales from Ye Olde York

This week my cameraphone went to York, a mere 2-hour drive from Manchester. When you're young and poor an interesting expedition has to suffice over sun, sea and sand. York is a beautiful place, and there were plenty of weird and wonderful things for my cameraphone to capture. My favourite wonderful thing has to be the city's spooky reputation.
We went on a ghost tour on our first night, to acquaint ourselves with the grisly history of the place. According to our guide, York has over 500 ghosts in residence. The beared man decked out in cape, suit and top-hat dramatically recounted the most famous of the supernatural tales, and really it was a nice alternative to simply touring the old (and often supposedly haunted) pubs dotted around the city centre, which is of course what we did for the rest of our nights in York!

Talking of haunted pubs, this particular pub, The Golden Fleece was said to have a few ghosts of its own. Unfortunately, apart from a few miserable bartenders and bouncers, we didn't see any unfortunate souls wandering around.

My second favourite thing about York is definitely the architecture. York Minster is spectacular - it took over 200 years to complete and work started in the 13th century. I took loads of pictures but if you want to see them you'll have to click here.
There were Roman columns (or a seating area according to one American couple, who plonked themselves on the ancient relic to have a bite to eat, so I couldn't take a decent picture! grrrr), mediaeval houses and numerous old churches, including a Norman one they found under the Minster.

And on to the weird. The weirdest thing about York simply has to be the place names, including Whip-ma-whop-ma gate and the inexplicably named Bitchdaugther Tower! My poor tootsies were too tired to walk all the way over to Bitchdaughter to take a picture, but if you don't believe me, check it out here(http://www.hometown.aol.co.uk/_ht_a/crusader747/yorkfour.html)



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A woman scorned

This picture was taken earlier this year in Didsbury by a colleague, which she promptly emailed around the office. However, I (and many other people) saw the offending vehicle a couple of times, driving around Didsbury and neighbouring Burnage. Obviously the driver couldn't quite afford to get it re-sprayed right away! The sheer venom with which the words were etched into the bodywork implies the wronged other half wanted to hit him where it hurt most, and I'm sure she took great satisfaction from the fact that the poor guy had to drive around with his indiscretions scrawled across his bonnet.
What you probably need to know about Didsbury is that it's home to a lot of 20 or 30-something graduates who have chosen to stay in Manchester. They have good jobs, nice flats and flashy cars, and because of their lifestyles I imagine it's not the first time something like this has happened! It's all a bit Footballer's Wives if you ask me...

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