Magazine
City sniggers
by Sarah Warden9/ 6/2005
TO get things straight from the off, I'll say that I'm the type
of girl who'll try almost anything once. And being from a small
town, moving to the up-and-coming city of Manchester (even if it's
the suburbs) gives me plenty to try.
After all, Mancunians are famous for knowing how to have a good
time, and the nightlife is the stuff of legends.
But to let you into a secret which I don't shout about on a Friday
night, I'm already a bit cross with the fake tanned and taloned
world of Deansgate and the Locks, with its faceless beautiful
people reminding me constantly of all the Jumping Jacks I've ever
visited, which I may say are numerous.
The people of Manchester are famed as the liveliest, friendliest
bunch in the world and I want to get to know them a little more
intimately. I want real Manchester to entertain me in all its
glory.
So I made a start by heading to studentsville, expecting to find
lively young things in vintage gear, perhaps drinking real ale and
listening to some up-and-coming guitar music. I hadn't got too far
on my voyage up Oxford Road when I spotted Big Hands, a small bar
crammed with a trendy young crowd looking vaguely academic, with
well-worn leather seats and some groovy house blaring out.
The bar had been recommended to me as a daytime haunt by a student
who told be it served "great sandwiches - really cheap and
massive", which I'm afraid I can't say I asked about.
The music was loud but fun, though the punters seemed a little
reserved, in the way of students who have made their friends and
aren't on the lookout for any more. And they were very serious too.
The area that looked as though it might be the `quiet spot' that
every bar has was packed with earnest early-twentysomethings having
in-depth discussions, which looked as though they could have been
about James Joyce, though I can't say for sure they weren't about
Abi Titmuss.
But I can say I felt very safe as a lady on a night out. Whether it
was just because I was obviously a more mature lady that the
beautifully kookily-dressed elfin girls around me or because I
landed among a crowd naturally predisposed to feminism, I'm not
sure.
As Europe's biggest student city I mused that a large proportion of
Manchester's population must come from all areas of Britain and
beyond. And I felt welcome.
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