Is it right that you should never go back?
There’s a few tenets I’ve learned in life – teaching is toxic, partnerships sink ships and you should never go back.
I’ve raked over the first few often enough – I have the T shirt for meeting twats in education and have several failed business partnerships under my belt, yet never going back?
Is it true?
Although I do tend to see things in stark black and bright white, I must admit to nuance about going back and the very concept.
Before moving to Norfolk, we had an annual pilgrimage to Lanzarote when the children were born. An all inclusive behemoth of a hotel near Playa Blanca, the H10 Rubicon Palace. We loved it the first February we arrived, the following year was great, but by the third year (1st World Problems), its appeal waned.
Once we relocated to escape the toxic clutch of family, Norfolk’s climate meant we didn’t continue with the Canarian treks, but discovered Tory Butlins at Center Parcs, Elveden, before its prices became ridiculous.
But.
We made the 90 minute drive three times a year to Elveden, marvelling at squirrels, deer, the rapids and prices in the Parc shop. We went about 4 years ago, and though enjoyable, it had lost considerable appeal – maybe because it had little element of surprise, or perhaps because James and Ruby were no longer kids?
And yet, today, I’m going back – not to Center Parcs or Lanzarote, but to Manchester, a place I lived near for 9 years, from 1987 to 1996. I bought my first home in Shaw, Oldham, began a long teaching career there at Crompton House, Failsworth School and Harper Green School before itchy feet had me move to north Staffordshire and the call of the White Peak.
Yet to pretend this is a first visit since 1996 is disingenuous – we did used to travel over now and again from Stoke, when son James was born in 2000, and we’ve been since to see friends there.
Manchester and Oldham and Bolton have fond memories for me. I made lifelong friends there in Steve Smith, Charlie Daxon and with many other pupils, especially from Failsworth, a suburb 6 miles north of Manchester, with kids who were quite street wise with great senses of humour.
Steve Grogan and his family
Today, I travel to stay at Steve Grogan’s, a pupil who used to sit perched in my form from 1990 to 1992 and engaged in lively chat with me every form period. Those were the days when I could say to pupils “I’ll meet you on Deansgate at 1 on Saturday and we’ll have a mooch round.” No one questioned it, no one raised a safeguarding concern, and, I know times change, but that relative age of innocence went as academies sprang up – with Norfolk schools being particularly Orwellian.
Steve is now a very successful photographer.
I’ve worked in three schools in Norfolk and all were grim – not the pupils, but management, all led invariably by sociopaths or psychopaths – yet I kept returning to teach there, when Suffolk was very different.
Today, I’ve walked to Norwich railway station, boarded the 10.56 train to Piccadilly, attached my headphones, booted the MacBook to think about the joys that lie ahead.
Manchester, I know from my last trip there, about 6 years ago on business, has utterly transformed. I was unfortunate to stay last time at a Premier Inn in Hyde, renowned for being home to Dr Harold Shipman, serial killer, and it was as grim as expected.
The city centre though caught me by surprise.
I’d lived near it for 9 years and used to go there most weekends, but I found myself seriously disoriented by the changes I saw.
The Northern Quarter, for example, used to be a place of dilapidated warehouses and cheap takeaways, but was now unrecognisable – same with Deansgate, the Arndale etc.
What had not changed was the warmth and friendliness of the people – they were lovely when I lived there and remained so.
Today, then, I’m excited about a 4 day stay there. It’s not without work – I’m travelling like an Apple pop-up stall but a change of scenery, meeting old friends, and widening horizons all hold considerable appeal.
Don’t get me wrong – I won’t be returning home ready to mount a For Sale sign on our apartment balcony, we’ve found a home and city we love in Norwich, but it will be fantastic to see how Manchester continues to grow as one of the best cities in the UK.
Sorted.
