38

Our old dog came to see me in a dream this morning. Maybe he knew it was my birthday! He was sitting next to me on the couch, growling and whining because I had gloves and a hat on. He never liked it when you wore them. I took them off and his eyes were sad and stubborn like they used to be and his snout was wet. Oisín woke me up because I was ‘beeping’, the anxious sound that I make when I’m having bad dreams, but actually I was having a bit of a sleep-cry. I got up to fetch some water and in the kitchen I could hear a single bird from outside having a riotous sing. He’s still going now. It’s 5.45 am. He has no idea how old he is, how old the world is, how long birds have been singing, he’s just doing his thing.

I’m 38 today, I can hardly believe it. I still wanna throw my bonnet over the windmill and rush into the sea at midnight (Pat Phoenix). I remember leaving home at 18 with absolutely no idea how to do anything at all but read books. Things have gotten much better. I’ve been in Manchester 20 years now, I’m the IRA bomb generation. I’ll have a big party in September to celebrate my anniversary I think.

I spent time with my Mum last week and found out my biological Dad made a conscious decision not to see me again quite a short time after I was born. It doesn’t make a big difference, and it started before that because he never came to get us from the hospital when I was born or anything. I’m so much older now than he was when he left that it seems churlish to even think about it but it has hurt me a bit. I’m lucky though because I’ve been so loved my whole life by lots of people. Even now, on occasional days when I’m still in my pyjamas and my anxiety is out of hand and I haven’t been able to pay rent, Oisín will tell me not to worry, I’m a unique handsome genius and Manchester would fall apart without me and why don’t I become a famous singer or something? 

I never do a jot of work on my birthday, this is the only thing I’ll write today. Weather permitting, we are getting on our bikes later and cycling out to look at a 1920s street or something, and then having a massive vegetarian feast at Lily’s Indian restaurant, then a pint, and then I’m going to read Times Square Red, Times Square Blue. There’s a cake too, I could smell it baking when I got back from DJing last night. Good morning everyone, happy birthday!

  

Ning

A birthday treat was required for Young Neil, one that would impress but could be done affordably given there were more treats to come later in the month … Ning it is. Great name. Great location too at the rickety Frog & Bucket end of Oldham Street. I love this bit of the street, much more than the other crowded end with boring old shops and things. There’s nothing here but the Big Issue office, the City Inn spilling onto the street, and broken up building fronts. No doubt gentrification will fill in the space soon enough, particularly in the wake of this excellent restaurant.

Lured by the two courses for a tenner deal, this place was such a good find. Starter, main course and sundry all included in the cover charge, three quid for a beer, nothing spared on the quality or quantity. Great veggie options for me and fleshatarian stuff for Neil. Not every dish comes under the deal but what they do offer is veggie versions of almost any dish where it’s feasible to do so. I liked them already.

Neil had Peppercorn Calamari to start, which bowled him over. I had the Gado Gado, one of those gorgeous Indonesian salads stuffed with bean sprouts, peppers and fresh, crunchy vegetables, warmed through in temperature and also in spiciness with touches of red chilli. The whole thing was smothered in a gorgeous sweet satay dressing. It was a generous helping to boot, one that could easily do for a work lunch.


Main course menu is split into Malay and Thai and the variety is just enough to make you agonise pleasantly over your choice. I plumped for the Nyonya Lime Curry which was rich and sour and filling and sweet and everything I like in South East Asian cuisine in another generous dish. Neil had the Masak Merah, a simple flavoursome chicken dish that he raved about. Even the plain sticky rice smelled amazing. Great quality all round.

We didn’t have desserts but some sexy coconut ice-cream affair was on offer the night we were there. Confession time: I felt a heel for not tipping, our waiter was lovely too, and I’m normally born-again about that kind of thing, but the purse strings were quite literally throttling me. I will be back though for a full price feast with friends to make up for it. Plus they now do takeaway for city folk. The menu is on my table just waiting …

Food

Out with the old … looks as though El Macho, the Mexican place on Portland Street, has closed down. A shame. Was it our only Mexican restaurant? I can tick it off my list of places to eat at least, it having resided there since 1997. Also Monsoons is looking suspiciously abandoned at the minute. Monsoons, the take-away next to Spar on Oxford Road, is such a Manchester experience. It’s the best place to watch semi-respectable suits abandon all willpower to their hangovers of a Monday and eat burnt meat in the window with their fingers. Monsoons is also responsible for the greasiest, shiniest patch of pavement in the city. At night it’s pretty scary and the staff are bad-tempered. I can’t remember if the kebabs are any good, having been either blotto or vegetarian or both on all of my visits, but it smells great when you’re hungry. It will be sad to see it go. Maybe it’s just a refurb?



And in with the new …University Place is the enormous flying saucer cum steel drum erection on campus. The whole ground floor is seemingly devoted to eating, which is nice. The building itself is fairly unlovable and lit by mysterious means since it has no windows above the ground floor. What’s more it symbolises, to me at least, the University’s willingness to haemorrhage money in the name of image while such thorny issues as paying staff agreeable salaries remain unresolved. The Maths Tower that preceded Uni Place was, I grant you, an eye-sore in its own right but, typically, I quite liked it. Anyway, the food. Cheap, good quality, quick, and for the most part pretty healthy. The canteen is all of these and comes replete with the added thrill of school-canteen style rivalry to bag the cool tables. I’ve had roast vegetable tarts and mushroom stroganoff on separate occasions and they’ve both been lovely, as have the sides. I might even forgive them the architecture for those crispy, yummy roast potatoes.