National Football Museum

During a recent trip to Manchester, I took the opportunity to visit the National Football Museum, situated in the centre of the city.

 

I did not honestly know what to expect, but overall I would give the experience a qualified thumbs up. I had no real idea what to expect, and I am traditionally wary of museums of this nature, as they tend to be predictable and/or perfunctory. In all honesty, my first few minutes in the museum were a touch underwhelming, as it all seemed a little low-key. It is only when one climbs the stairs to the upper levels that things really come alive.

 

The challenge for museums like this one is to strike a balance, and to cater for all ages and levels of interest, without becoming either superficial or excessively high-brow. In this respect, I think that the people in Manchester have pitched things just about correctly. There is interactive stuff aplenty to keeps the kids interested, but also enough to draw in the footballing "anorak".

 

I was impressed and surprised by the variety and quality of the memorabilia and other material on display, from trophies and old footballs to programmes and shirts, and even football-orientated artworks. Football at all levels, and in all its shades, is covered, and there is commendable emphasis on the grassroots. the lower leagues and the formative years of the professional game. There is much stress, consciously or otherwise, on how much the game has changed over the decades, but one is also reminded that essentially many things about football have hardly changed at all, particularly the passion of the spectators and the enduring tactical fascination.

As someone who has lately become rather jaded with the game, this visit re-ignited my interest in the vibrancy of football culture. If one moderates one's expectations, a visit to the National Football Museum is very worthwhile for anyone passing through Manchester, with a little time to spare.

Manchester

Today was the first day of 2012 when the weather conditions were even remotely conducive to a trip outside my immediate locality, and I selected Manchester.

I have visited Manchester quite regularly during the past eighteen months or so, and I continue to warm to it, in particular the vibrant and pleasing juxtaposition of the old and the new, the modern and the traditional. I hope that these pictures, which I took today, amplify this point:

What the pictures cannot hope to convey is just how cold it was in Manchester today! 

A Day On The Railways

I have spent much of today using our much-maligned railway system. First of all, I took a mid-morning train to Huddersfield, and things were mercifully quiet. However, I soon became restless, and the lure of Manchester, and its well-stocked Waterstones bookstore, proved too much. I returned to Huddersfield's elegant station, and jumped on a connecting train.  I took a couple of photographs during the journey to Manchester:

The journey proved immensely relaxing, aided by the sounds of Richard Wagner on my MP3 player.

I travel by this route quite often, and I regularly think to myself how much we in the North of England, even those of us who live in urban areas, overlook just how much scenic beauty resides close at hand. The countryside between Leeds and Manchester has an ominous and stern kind of beauty, best exemplified during the kind of capricious weather conditions which prevailed today, and which are captured in my two photographs.

After a couple of hours of relaxation and retail therapy in Manchester, including seeing the venue for the yet-to-be-opened National Football Museum, I returned to Manchester Victoria and caught the train home. Alas, the earlier tranquility was now gone, and the hustle and bustle had been raised a few notches. Children crying, the aroma of fast food, litter, general crowding. This time I chose Queen for my musical nourishment, or rather as a means of shutting out the din of the outside world.

Matters were not helped when the train was diverted, adding some time to my journey. There can be occasions when a tipping point is reached, and the pleasure and comfort of a railway journey becomes something more wearisome and tiring. When I reached my destination, my legs were aching and I was glad to be on terra firma again.