Museum of Science and Industry

Well I am becoming more familiar with Manchester. I am still posturing, pretending to be a Playwright. I am still fulfilling my role as loner, free spirit. This morning I went into the Museum of Science and Industry. Last night I had a conversation in the Hostel with someone who was into the vibes and energies of places. He told me that he felt that Liverpool to him felt a little bit soulless and the centre of the City, Liverpool 1 was set up to take your money! They've extended the shops down to the Mersey. It certainly is different to how I remember it as an adolescent. He said that Liverpool as a city was now about making money and that Manchester was about making money and having fun. This gentleman was a man of Cornwall and I have met a number from the West Country who come up to Manchester for the 'fun'.  As Founding Father and CEO of the Campaign against a Capitalist Christmas I have to say that the Christmas market in Manchester does have its merits. It blends into its surroundings and appears to create good cheer, in the streets around the Royal Exchange Theatre, the Headquarters of Cottonopolis.. On Albert Square there are Dutch Stall Holders selling Bulbs and assorted Garden Ephemera. I suppose all cities are about making money, creating money, generating money but as an Arty type it leaves me cold. Well Everton beat Manchester United 1-0 last night and the supporters from all over the world were pretty gutted when they returned to the youth hostel for middle aged men, from the Theatre of Dreams.

I didn't like the ambience of the Museum of Science & Industry! I was early and they don't let you round until 10.00am although the Gift Shop and Coffee shop are open earlier. I was churlishy grunted at by the illegitimate love child of Paul Scholes and handed a coffee, he must have detected my semi-scouse accent.  It was one of the windiest days of the year and I try and find some inspiration or stimulation on Thursday mornings before my class last thing on Thursday afternoon. As a former employee of the Museum of Welsh Death also known as Saint Fagans I keep a keen eye on how Museums bring their worlds to life for the Tax Payer. Well in short, they don't. Here there was row upon row of Spinning Jennys and Machines associated with the Cotton fields back home. There were pictures of fat cat industrialists who made it all happen. This industry was built on the back of slavery and modern day slaves were cleaning the exhibits as I went round. The fact that they were black made the image all the more disturbing and striking. The powers and principalities were blowing up a gale outside and my mood was darkening as I made my way around the engineering sheds accompanied by Japanese tourists and schoolchildren. If the idea was to create the atmosphere of what it must have been like to have lived and worked in the Industrial Revolution in Manchester, well then it succeeded as opposed to the Imperial War Museum North which in my opinion goes for style over substance. Museums should really hire me as a Curator because I know what I'm talking about. I feel the vibe man! I feel the energies of places immediately! I know who is in a bad mood and a good mood immediately and if they are in a good mood I put them in a bad mood. Museum Wardens and Art Gallery attendants have a pretty soul destroying job but it is not difficult so perhaps like pushy personal shoppers in airports, they could come up to you and give you potted histories of the exhibits instead of standing there, glowering waiting to shout 'Do Not Touch'. I notice in my dotage, that when people meet me for the first time, they either recognise a kindered spirit, another lost soul who is completely fucked off with the world or they encounter a threat to their status quo maybe for the exact same reason. Who knows?