We had breakfast in the station cafe, and huge coffees before as we waited for the rush hour to abate. Three pounds bought us each a return ticket on the tram, and a long wait on the draughty platform beneath the station.
But before long we were heading up the main street, and then past what was G-Mex and onto old rails and into Salford. Over the ship canal and then beside a large dock the tram spat us out into the crisp air.
It was well signposted, and we headed slowly along the dock, or former dock to the Lowry Centre and the Imperial war Museum (North) on the other side of the river. It had started out cold and grey, but soon enough the clouds parted and the sun came out, and without a breath of wind made for fine pictures. There is a photogenic bridge leaping over the river, and I snapped it, and snapped it good from all anles, before the cold sent us into the nearby mall for coffee.
Back out we crossed the bridge and headed for the war museum, as it is all modern and has brutal architecture, and made for more fine shots. We went inside, and it was good; informative without glamorising. As ever the items from the Holocaust brought me up short; how could human beings, much like you and I treat others, like vermin? There is no place deep and painful enough where those who committed such acts will spend eternity.
We climbed in a rickety lift to go to the top of the shard tower, for fine views over Salford, whilst standing on a metal grid. My head did cartwheels as the vista opened out and you could see hundreds of feet below as you walked. Keep looking forward, Ian.
And so, back to Manchester; buy two tickets to Blackpool and wait for our train to depart.
More next time, peeps.
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