Two weeks
ago there was an unusual event: the pavements in our vicinity were jet-washed. The
following week there was another: a team of litter-pickers got to work on the
streets. Pleased but puzzled, I asked myself some questions. Had the city
council finally noticed that the pavements had begun to smell? Had it finally acknowledged
that human operatives are needed to reach the nooks and crannies where the
sweeping machines can't reach? Where had it found the money to pay for enhanced
cleaning at a time when hand-wringing austerity is the default? Eventually I
found my answers by joining the dots: the Labour Party's annual national
conference was about to open in the city and our Labour Party-dominated council
would be keen to create a good impression.
Now the
conference is over, the litter-pickers have disappeared and we, the residents, have
to cope (without counselling) with dashed expectations. But we all must learn
to manage our expectations if we are to avoid either being disappointed or falling
into a slough of bitter cynicism. The Manchester Food and Drink Festival -
currently being staged - is a case in point. Given that there are no food
specialities associated with the city, it should be no surprise that the stalls offer only take-away meals - pizzas,
hot-dogs, burgers and suchlike - none of which is special. On the other hand,
because Manchester still has several good, family-owned brewers, the beers are
worthy of celebration. Expect, therefore, no hand-rolled cheeses to take home
but rather a few beakers of decent ale to wash down the street-food of your
choice and you will not be disappointed. Consider also that if progress is to
be made towards excellence, any festival is better than no festival. Let's
think of it as "Work In Progress" - WIP.
To live here
is to experience full-on the implications of WIP. In this formerly industrial
city, there is a will to establish a new economic engine and much is being done
to that end: knowledge-based businesses are being encouraged; buildings are being
replaced or recycled; infrastructure and transport systems are being modified
to accommodate changing demographics; plans for the long term are being drawn
up and collaboration with the wider region is being discussed. Even so, there
are projects recently completed which already look too modest in ambition and
may soon have to be demolished. (It's as well that their architectural pedigree
is too mediocre to mourn.)
One of the more ambitious schemes,
stalled by the 2008 debacle, is the reclamation of a large area of inner-city
brown-field formerly occupied by Victorian industries and criss-crossed by
derelict canals and basins. Some housing clusters were completed, others are
now being re-started, but the area has a pronounced WIP feel about it. I
arrived there by tram the other day and alighted, along with one other
passenger, at the hopefully-positioned station (called New Islington) which may,
one day, have a cafe, shop and cycle-parking facilities but, for the time being,
remains a desolate outpost alongside a big, blind block of flats on one side
and un-reclaimed ground on the other.
"Do you know where the Albert
Hotel is?" asked the other passenger. She was a middle-aged woman with a
suitcase. "Am I in the right place? It's a bit desolate around here."
"It's back on the main road: about
two hundred metres," I said, pointing to a new building on the edge of the
derelict land.
"Oh dear," she said. "I
don't fancy walking back here later this evening."
I tried to reassure her but she
remained visibly uneasy as she set off. If all goes to plan this may be a
pleasant, thriving residential area someday. Meanwhile, it's WIP City.
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