It’s a double whammy this time with guides to current residence Leeds and childhood home Manchester.
Leeds. Its northern, it’s got pretensions. It’s my hometown and has been so for the last 6 years. Its going to be hard to write this without prejudice – I know what I like and I know where I like it to happen so hey lets just tell you about that because as we’ve all come to understand on here Izzy is cool.
Right so I’m of the opinion that Leeds is turning into a northern version of our isles capital more and more as time passes. Café culture burgeoning in outer suburbs? Check. Harvey Nichols and posh waterfront restaurants? Check. More designer stores than most of the cities inhabitants could possibly require?
So what’s your poison? For cheep but decent beer, a bohemian yet not shabby atmosphere and a mix of clientele head off to the Angel Inn (down the alley - oo err - opposite HMV) where a pint of Ayngerbrau lager will set you back a mere £1.51 and there’s always good music to be heard in the upstairs lounge bar. Fancy something a bit more salubrious, then I suggest The Wardrobe. Laid back jazz grooves play in an open, spacious and cool bar. Order one of their cocktails – I recommend a Bloody Mary or Raspberry Tom Collins – you can’t go wrong here really, as most of the barmen are damn fine mixologists. Venture down around teatime and you’ll quite often be treated to a free live music set in the bar. Want something middling, then The Mixing Tin is the place for you. Average priced drinks and really good food are attractions of this basement bar just down from Virgin records. It might not look up to much on the outside but inside its appealingly cosy in a modern sort of fashion. I have never had a bad meal there and the food is stinkingly cheap for the kind of quality you are getting. The staff are always friendly and there’s always a good interesting mix of people in there – it’s the kind of bar that has regulars, a rare thing for a city centre establishment. Pop in and say hello to Adam, our fave barman, dodgy taste in jeans (sorry mate!) but the prettiest hair you’ll see this side of MTV lovely Alex Zanes do!
The only thing I lament about Leeds is that there’s not really a decent live music venue. We have a place called The Cockpit, a sufficiently grungy indie club that hosts middling sized gigs, but the sound is I’m sorry to say absolutely bloody awful. I’d much rather venture to Sheffield and the Leadmill to see bands I like without having my hearing totally ruined. If it’s indie clubs you are after then I recommend The Think Tank down near the corn exchange, tiny and sweaty and absinthe for a pound..oh yes. But the music is good, especially when DJ Debs from Brighton Beach is playing. On a good Saturday night you just can’t beat the Think Tank if you wanna fling yourself around in the style of a demented Bez.
So a perfect night out for me would consist of some sushi and vegetable tempura at Little Tokyo at the back of House Of Fraser, then onto Mixing Tin for a couple of JD’s and Lemonade, possibly onto the Wardrobe for several of it’s rather strong Margaritas and onto Think Tank or Fab Café if in club mood. If not I’d head off to Mojo on Merrion Street and sink some more lethal but lovely concoctions. Apparently you sometimes see famous people in Mojo like er…Chris Moyles, not that I ever have but I tend to avoid it other than on weeknights when it isn’t rammed to it’s tiny rafters. End the night by avoiding any late night grease and food poisoning and head for City Square and its crescent of water fountains. You can’t beat it I’m telling you…admittedly I’m always in flip flops so water fountain paddling ain’t such a big deal for me, but let yourself go and live a little unless your wearing your newly purchased Jimmy Choos from Harvey Nicks of course.
You’d be forgiven that I am a Manchester lass through and through by that emotional little paragraph but when my dad proposed to me aged 14 that I come live down in London, you didn’t see me for dust. I did return though for a couple of years to work my arse off in what people think was the coolest club ever but let me tell you was probably not but then left again for the far more glamorous surroundings of the States. I have periodically returned now and then for stuff such as gigs, recently Elbow and Longview, the odd visit to Jodrell Bank (god knows why) and general supposed merriment. Some times have been great: see the Elbow gig or lazy lunches in Night and Day with friends. Some not so, like the time a band I was ineptly managing had a gig at the university which went nothing
Lately I returned for the Move festival at Old Trafford Cricket Ground. I hadn’t been to this so-called “urban” music festival before. Urban because there’s no camping and they put a tarp down on the pitch?? I got rather excited also by the fact there were proper toilets at this festival…PROPER TOILETS. Jesus. Hello middle age, come and get me! Anyway, I was disappointed with the quality of the sound there, the lacklustre ness of fave band Longview’s set and by the time Elbow came on stage in early evening I was making impassioned pleas to my compadres to “come lie back on the ground man and look at the sky…look at the sky”. Yes the wine was rancid and potent. I can’t tell you what The Cure were like for many reasons including the fact that my mate who for this purpose we shall name the boy asked, “should we do one”? Referencing the bowels of my memory to recall the meaning of this request in Mancunian parlance I replied “yes we should indeed do one”.
So off we scuttled into town and the sweaty atmosphere of Manchester’s Fab Café. Packed? Why yes it was. I didn’t even get to spy where the dance floor was just in case I needed to make an emergency dash in its direction. Like every Fab, the drinks were overpriced and it’s not like they are even free poured. Tsk. Anyway I didn’t think much to it, but there again I don’t think much to the one in Leeds. Word of warning don’t go and sit in Fab and expect to behave like couples might or in a remotely human way as some snotty cow will come and sit down right next to you and proceed to make you feel like you’ve slaughtered several young children for daring to …well ahem..in public.
So we “did one” from Fab and wandered in the direction of a place called The Rain Bar. Well I’d love to be able to tell you what this was like but it was closing (allegedly) so we were forced into paying £2 each!! to go into a bar down the road from it called Aqua. I don’t recall much about Aqua bar. Now this was either because of amount of drink consumed by this point, other distractions including having to wake the boy up every time he dozed off or the fact that it just wasn’t too memorable. I’d plump for a combination of the three to be honest.
Next word of warning comes courtesy of all the bars down underneath Deansgate Tram stop. I noticed on the previous day that they all offered lovely big all day breakfast type stuff but just don’t expect any of them to be actually fecking open when you are usurped from your hotel at 11am the next morning. It was with desperate hangovers and interesting hair that we headed for Piccadilly station in search of the right amount of grease and caffeine. But don’t expect any joy here either. Warm breakfast ciabattas (warm mayo …ugh) and giant lattes were about as close as we got. In the end I settled for this and lucozade. I can see I’m going to have to go back to Manchester and explore it at night in a more sober state. I will also return to hopefully give myself an anxiety attack in the museum due to a giant pink crustacean. If you see “Boris” wave hello for me. I’ll also go to Big Hands bar on Oxford Road and rock star spot.
I will return again for more merriment and mayhem cause it’s there to be had. But in terms of this instalment.....
Mischief Managed!
Izzy Brooks.
pixie@happyandlost.co.uk
Previously in the Garbled Guide To The UK:
1) Devon.
2) Cheltenham Spa
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