A day (and a half) in Manchester.
This is the story: a friend of mine is living there and we talk that as soon he know the city a little bit i will go to visit him, walk the place and meet some sons of brits.
I took a low cost fly, 35 euros come&back bill, two hours of travel. Well, not bad in terms of money and time for the experience.
So, he pick me on the airport, and drive me to town. From there to there, , even the "shock" of be in another country was enough, i feel like i was on some kind of nightmare, endless streets plenty of houses, same after same, that mixture of green and bricks over and over making me sick.
Once we be on the center of Manchester, the weather doesnt allow you to be confort for a second; not the cold, not the rain, the wind, horrible wind.
Dont mind, theres not much to admire. Everything there is ugly. You are not looking for, but when you are on a new place, girls is first thing you noticed. And here, guess what: monsters.
Men, 3 am and all the clubs closed! go home! and at 4 am wtf the sun is raising! and there they have not window blind, and the window was huge!
this fucking place is insane, and i come from the very north spain, wich is not the turistic paradise sell in TV, but this city, Manchester, is an abomination blaspheme
My friend told me ; hey javi, want to see the M.United stadium? dude, lets go to your house until the plain goes. Take all your industry and fit in your ass, i rather live in a shack in Spain than the Rotschild mansion in England. Fuck the left, fuck Rooney, and fuck the Queen. Viva Espaņa.
There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening. The Korova milkbar sold milk-plus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom, which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence.