Under slate-grey Victorian skies

I've been in Manchester for four days now and am settling in well. Young Holden (Anna) has even already found time to go on a litter picking expedition in the immediate vicinity of our building. It seems that our little car park and path way is where the wind chooses to deposit all the litter from the southern half of Manchester, so she's in her element. It's a very different litter culture to what she's been used to while idly picking up bin bags strewn alongside narrow country roads in her Lincolnshire Wolds, but she seems to have adapted well to city litter. The roof of our flat seems to be a bit of a pigeon hidehout too, so I feel a bit like Jonathan Noel from 'The Pigeon' by Patrick Suskind every time I go out the door. The overcast skies and spots of rain always provide solace though.

As Manchester's primary student area, Fallowfield seems to have a lot of students, which has come as a bit of a surprise. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it's come as a minor culture shock to be amongst it all, and staggering to think I'm five years older than all of these Freshers prowling the streets. Yesterday I made the mistake of trying to glide past the main Freshers' Fair and was met with a barrage of fliers for themed discos and toga parties, all rebuffed with a stern "no thanks", naturally. It seems quite a few of the pubs/bars where I'm living are your standard, soulless student affairs, but thankfully 'The Friendship Inn' has provided some sanity. It's got a wooden bar, a nice old-fasioned carpet and serves Olde Trip, so I've declared it my local. Plenty of great alehouses in the city centre though, and I'm looking forward to gaining a comprehensive understanding of them all.