The Mancunian Yank

Town made me feel like I’d wondered into a rainbow and pride flag explosion, and I was definitely here for it. It was a joy for me to see hundreds of people out and able to be themselves, especially when you remember that we live in a world where that’s not always the case for everyone. Me, being the way I am, somehow found a handful of protesters gathering in solidarity for the Afghanistan refugee situation that’s currently happening. All I’m going to say is that I think it’s appalling the fact that the people who are fleeing their homeland due to terrorism are basically being treated as inhuman. The internal struggle I constantly have of being proud to be British is always raging. The British Empire has a history of sticking it’s flag in places it doesn’t belong and telling the people who belong there that they don’t as well as telling it’s own people who to love and what to do. I was constantly reminded that although homosexually was made legal in the UK in 1967 it really wasn’t...

From the week of 16th to 20th August, I participated in a Reform Radio course that focused on well-being, mental health and creativity called Positive Frequencies and it all culminated in an in-studio, live audience roundtable session on Friday 20th August. Hosted by Tito (who's also a Sonder Radio facilitator) and Dan (who's got a really nice job title that I forgot but is especially Reform Radio's in house therapist and feel good teddy bear) throughout the week from 10am to about 3:30pm they took us through the 5 steps to wellbeing, the inner critic (that annoying little voice that tears you down but can also build you up), imposter syndrome, PAC or parent-adult- child mind-sets and (under the guidance of Alex) using Soundtrap to create music. On Thursday Reform's manager, Jemma, showed us how to script the show that we would be recording the next day.  Joining me on the course was my unofficially adopted sibling Bill, Lewis, Scott (who are all members of my Reform fa...

Part 1: The Mystery Shitter The museum was empty and silent as it usually was at midnight. Mike pushed the cleaning cart up to the bathroom door and took a deep breath before adjusting his mask, putting on a fresh pair of disposable gloves and going to put a stopper in front of the door of the women’s bathroom.  The strength of the stench made his eyes water. He had no idea what some of these women were eating but someone definitely had some bowel issues going on. Whistling ‘Give A Little Whistle’ under his breath he armed himself with his cleaning products and headed to the final stall where he knew that the stench was coming from. For the past two weeks someone had left an excremental explosion in the final stall and because Mike only cleaned the museum at night after everyone had gone home he had no idea who the mystery shitter was. He constantly had to find his happy place whenever he had to do his job. He thought of his children. Craig had just turned nine and Alice...

Soldier On Constantly searching for the soul, the heart of it, Are we alone? We agree on the impossibility of it, After a year and a half of being starved of intelligent conversations on my front doorstep, Eight months of thieves, liars, beggars, addicts who lined the gutter of the hallways, My greatest fear was to become jaded, To lose that love, that joy,   A reminder as to who I am and why I like people, I don’t cling, but thank the universe for a like-minded soul, I can’t feel anything, But I know that that’s okay, I know I am the purest light of who I am, As I listen, with my heart, And it’s a glow, an ember of gratitude, Sitting in his carved wooden chair, I am aware of the tinge of pain in my leg and back, But I retune, Understanding and knowing, Side by side, It’s not as bad as his pain and we are here, now, So thank goodness for that, He’s the kind of neighbour I’ve dreamt off, Kind, funny, He apologises for the mess, But i...

We all code switch, whether we know it or not. The side of us that friends see may be a very different person to who we are around family. Social situations cause us to become chameleons; adapting to our environment and hiding our vulnerability. Academic situations generally take that to an extreme and that is brought into vivid Technicolor life in this short story by Louise Finnigan.   The story details Jade’s college assignment; interviewing three men from ‘her side of the tracks’ who comment on their lives, hopes and feelings about being from (and the possibility of ever leaving) one of the roughest estates in Manchester.   It is a beautiful love letter to both this city and the people who fall through the cracks to be forgotten but still like in its gritty heart, somehow surviving but never thriving. In a journey to finding better opportunities you end up sacrificing a lot in order to do so. I loved seeing Jade go through this process even though it broke my heart slight...

I had been recommended this short story by a writing acquaintance of mine. As someone who possesses a dark sense of humour and is an enormous fan of witty satire this story was right up my street. In an eggshell, this story is about a pig called Pig who’s gone through a rather strange transformation, along with some of his other farm yard friends, that takes an abstract and slightly grotesque spin on the concept of the ‘farm to table’ process. As one of those rare variety of vegetarian, you know, the one that possess a sense of humour (my love of free rage eggs is the only reason I can’t qualify to skip into that empty box labelled ‘angry vegan’) I did find this book catered very well to both my fascination with the grotesque and my stance as an animal lover. Some might compare this book to Animal Farm by George Orwell, and the only similarities are the fact both are brilliantly written (despite a typing error in one), based on a farm and there is a pecking order going on. But th...

This poetry collection made me laugh, cry and think about what it means to me to have and use my voice which is why I loved it so much. Words are the most powerful tools and weapons when it comes to battling emotions and finding answers to the questions we pose to ourselves. I feel as if each poem is a snapshot of a different moment of realisation for Tina and through them she shares her knowledge. From imperialism, slavery, feminism to loss; each poem deals with a different relationship between herself (and essentially ourselves) and the world around her. I bought this collection on a whim after being fortunate enough to meet Tina at The Northern Publishing Book Fair last month. Tina is an intelligent and warm soul and meeting her made it easy to see how that is all poured into her work and this collection. My favourite poems are: ‘Emerging’, ‘Precious’, ‘Love, Bang, Thang’, ‘Fantasy’, ‘Ideal Man’, and ‘Playing For Life’. One of the main reasons I love poetry is because every ...

Listen   I can’t anymore, The gossip is draining me, So I switch onto auto pilot, Neither wishing to move, nor walk away, My brain hears but my heart is taking in the greenery, The fresh air calms me, A lifetime ago, Same time, Different place, Different face, But I know you are with me, I no longer feel attached to my feelings, Are they false? Am I still me? I’m not sure, I know these traits are ingrained, To care, To listen, But I don’t want to know anymore.  

 When You're Gone I try not to worry, You are on your journey, I am on mine, But two weeks without you, And I’m back to the moment when I needed you, And you needed me to stand up, Back to our last hug, The painless days are a wonder, I see you through the window, Teaching me to dress, walk, how to wear my purse securely, Words never needed, Clicked moments of clarity, I’ll keep your voice forever in my mind, Telling me you love me, Whispered though the memories that still sting and twist, I’ll read your words, Over and over, Meant for me, My lifeline, I hope you know how much you mean to me, How much I’ll love you, forever.

 Ode To The Goth Bats Only for the love of darkness, the macabre, and the unnatural do I subsist, Solitary by circumstance, not by choice for the current moment, As I await the transportation wishing it would take me to a land of more tolerant humans, But alas, At least I stomp lightly in my platforms on my own terms for now, Kindred spirits are rare, few and far between, She keeps the cogs of commerce turning on this bright and beautiful Monday, I love what I love and don’t possess the time needed to explain to you why that is, I flit past you aware as you draw back, I have a gentle nature, swathed in an emotional abyss, People are so rude with their assumptions, I have no intention of sacrificing you to Satan, I’d just like to get home to a nice cup of tea and a cuddle with my cat, thank you very much, I am not an emo or a superficial scene, A phase picked up, loved, then discarded, I am me, Unapologetic and as sharp as the tip of the wing of my ey...

I think homelessness is a dehumanizing experience that strips someone of their identity. It’s difficult for me to pretend that I don’t see the people with their belongings piled around them, simply because I’m not sure if they really are homeless or not. Yes, I judge people but I try my best not to. Seeing people in that position hurts me and makes me wish that I wasn’t so damn sensitive. It reminds me of just how easy it is to fall through the cracks and blend into the concrete of doorways. I don’t usually carry any change anyway and I’m not in a position to spare the change, time or energy to help eradicate the plague that renders people without any form of comfort or security. It hurts me even more because when I was still only a day old to my city I was lost and one of the many people who helped me find my way that day was a homeless person, who’s name, I regret to say, I completely forgot, although I shall never forget his kindness.   But there’s something internal that clic...