New location. New urge to journal. If this blog is supposed to exercise my brain, my gray-matter's gotten flabby.
We're back in England, this time in Manchester, living in a corner, top-floor flat in a Victorian building that was probably a cotton mill in city centre. We're here for eight weeks while Bill does contract work for Cooperative Financial, one of the largest companies in Manchester. It's a great opportunity to come back, we never thought we would, and re-aquaint ourselves with British-isms, like four-wheeled shopping trolleys, and looking right, then left, before stepping off of the curb, and taking three hours to do a load of wash. It's different being in a city. We don't have a car, so we're working on figuring out the tram and buses, and are doing much more walking. Smoking is not allowed inside public places anymore, so everyone steps outside to take a drag. Weekends are busier than weekdays, especially at 2:30 in the morning when the bars and pubs close, turning out all the noisy drunks onto the streets.
Two sides of the flat are lined with nine large windows that look out over the roof tops and give us a birds-eye view of people coming and going on the street, on the tram, and on the buses. I enjoy looking out at different times of the day to see what dramas are unfolding. It would be easy to become a voyer if I had a good pair of binoculars. Here are my favorite views.
