The 4 of Hearts

By Grace O’Reilly

He saw my picture on a friend’s laptop

“Who is she?” he asked

“She is taken” our friend Leah said

But that was in the past

A few months later he met me in person

He as nervous as a child

I then single so he had a chance

And this did make him wild

I at the time knew nothing about him

Though he knew loads about me

Neither of us knew that only months later

He would get down on one knee

“I have got to woe her”, he thought

I really want her heart

“Pick one and don’t tell me which one”

His hands full with a deck of cards

It was the 4 of hearts I chose

When he did his magic card trick

While taking his heart too, I did not know

Was it love or was it magic?

With a beautiful baby girl

2 years almost we are wed

He is the love of my life

Thanks to the 4 of hearts in red

Evergreen, Forever Love

By Grace O’Reilly

What has a wedding ring, an evergreen tree, love and the seasons got to do with each other?

My husband proposed to me back in 2011, and four months later we were married in a nice civil ceremony in “The Grand Hotel” in Wicklow town.  A ring (circular in shape, hence the name) is a symbol of a love that is never ending, like a life to an extent, always changing but always there and continuing on regardless.  Like a marriage, life and the seasons always have their good and bad patches but once you remember the love, happiness, positives and light there is no stopping it.  A candle is symbolic in a wedding ceremony of the light of love eternally burning, like the evergreen; evergreen ever prevalent and forever there.

Everything in this life revolves around time, seasons, weather, plants, flowers and trees.  It revolves around human beings, animals and air and water, everything.  This is called the circle of life as Elton John sings in Walt Disney’s movie “The Lion King”, and it is true.  We need nurture and love in life as well as food to live and continue to grow.

The beauty of the evergreen or as some people call them coniferous trees is that they seem to live forever.  The other beauty about them is that they are always green, hence the name and never lose their foliage.  Regardless of how bleak the wintertime gets, and how lonely and deathlike it seems, the evergreen is still there, saying hello as you trod along on your travels or you go out for a walk.  They are there in the springtime, when all the other wildlife springs back into life and are only beginning to bloom again.  The evergreen welcomes them back to the land of the living.  In the summer time when the weather picks up, and families are out and about having leisurely picnics in the park the evergreen is there taking in all the happiness around.  And in the autumn time when all the other trees are starting to wither, age and turn a crispy brown before it turns into damp decay on the footpath, the evergreen is there to say farewell.

A partner in life who loves you unconditionally for the person you are is like an evergreen.  They share the good times with you, and the happiness with you.  They are there to pick you up, when things are bad, and you fall like an autumn leaf feeling like you may wilt, because things for whatever you’re reason has gotten so bad and too much to handle.  You’re partner is your rock when in the winter blues or baby blues or any time you are feeling blue they are there so you are not alone.  And of course they are there to share the birth of your child in the spring of their life, a new and precious little life, and they are there to help ease the pain of losing a loved one in the winter (or sometimes sadly not, the loved one is younger) of their life.

My husband Simon is my evergreen, my forever friend in love, life and marriage.  He is a doting father to Olivia our beautiful baby daughter and son Benjamin.  They are the apples of our eyes.  She is a cutie, 2 and cheeky and he well he is a new born (6 weeks old) and a gummy bear.

Back to the ring!  A ring is a circle, never ending.  Like love, the seasons and time, and of course the ever green is evergreen (positive, vibrant and living), and forever love.

At the end of this piece of writing is a poem I wrote called “Life and the Seasons” when I was just 15 and going through a very difficult time in my life.  I felt like I was in the winter of my life and that it was the end.  I was badly bullied in school, both primary and secondary school.  Things got so bad in secondary that I changed schools.  I thought about suicide but fortunately I didn’t.  I did however go through a 6 month stint of Bulimia.  It was an outlet for me like my writing, and the only control “I” had over my life, so I thought.   I would eat my dinner and as I vomited I would say “This piece of potato is the bully X, who ironically was even at the time the bullying in secondary school became extremely terrible, was supposedly my best friend”.  I would force my fingers down my throat and hurl and that was X dealt with, and so on.  It didn’t help that bully X (there were spate groups but bully X was my supposed best friend and the worst) sprayed “GRACE DOWNES IS A FAT COW” on a wall in her estate (a 5 minute walk from mine).   Thankfully I copped on, that hurling my problems down the toilet was not the answer and stopped.  It was many years later than I confessed to my parents I had been briefly Bulimic.

I know now in my life two very important people in my life have had issues with food and I am glad that I didn’t go down that route for my health, sanity and loved ones.  One of the people was severely overweight and suffered terribly throughout their life with their weight and heartburn and the like.  They started to walk, changed their diet and lost an awful lot of that weight.  The trousers now fit me and that person into one leg of their old trousers which the person keeps in their attic as inspiration not to pile the pounds back on.  The other person battled Anorexia for 12 years and at one point was fewer than 6 stone in weight, a very dangerous weight.  They could barely hold their child.  Again that person had their own reasons but has now since fully recovered.  Fortunately, they are both happy now and I love them both so much and am proud of them.  That was a blue time in their lives.  They continue to support me with my dreams to be a writer, and believe in myself as does my husband and other loved ones and pick me up when I am down and praise me when I have achieved my own goals.

I hope I can do the same for Olivia and Ben and that one day they will be proud of “Mummy”.  At the moment Olivia is very funny and apparently Mummy says “Mummy”, Daddy says “Daddy”, Thomas says “choo choo” and Peppa Pig says well I suppose really grunts “Snort”, that nasally grunty sound.

The reason I mentioned the loved ones with eating disorders that I love is that food is vital to live as is love.  Food is something that we constantly need in life to live and can share with loved ones over a nice meal and glass of wine.

Another tough time was when my ex fiance of 5 years and I broke up after I accidently drove his car into a wall.  It turned out his car was more important than me.  He swore at me while we waited on an ambulance, demanded the ambulance stopped an atm machine to get money for him to buy a new car.  I kid you not, and so forth.  Also turned out he was doing the dirty with a girl he worked with and has now married her.   Again below is a poem about how I felt at the time.  Writing for me is very therapeutic and helps me get things off my chest (well deep real writing like this).  Some fictional pieces are based on true events but mainly not! 

Funny how my supposed best friend and then years later my ex fiancé (both who I compleately trusted) hurt me.  Well Karma is a bitch.

 My family were and are still there for me.  They are supportive but I still felt alone at that vulnerable stage in my life, and felt that there was no end to the misery I endured.   Fortunately times did change, like the seasons and my family were and still are my evergreen, ever there, like my husband and babies are now. 

I still have my ups and downs and am still extremely scarred and probably will be forever over what happened but it is vital to take the positive out of the negative and to live life to the full.  After all you only live once, but life always goes on regardless so it is important to be happy and true to yourself and your loved one while you are living.  Follow your dreams and share them!!!

As I said earlier, I wrote the poem below when I was 15 and going through a tough time.  I am now 29 and come a very long way since then.  The poem means as much, maybe even more now that I am older, wiser and understand what it is like to be a mother and a daughter.

Life and the Seasons

By Grace O’Reilly

I am 15 just gone into Spring

Do not know what’s ahead of me

That’s a scary thing

My sister’s ahead in Summer

My parents further on in Autumn

And I am just sitting here with lots of thoughts in my head

My Granny is in Winter

Skin weathered like the trees

‘Why is life like this’? I ask

Life by age and months are these

 Do we go to Heaven

And repeat like the months do again?

Or is it just all over

With no point to the word ‘Amen’?

You said I was your Shining Star

By Grace O’Reilly

You said I was your shining star

And then our World, our sky, our dreams, our love

All fell apart

Met you in a disco

In the year 2002

Then I fell head over heels

In love with you

You told me that I was your gem

And that I was your shining star

But when I crashed that precious car of yours

Then you went too far

CRASH! Went your car

CRACK! Went my heart

And then our World, our sky, our dreams, our love

All fell apart

THE END

The wall said “GRACE DOWNES IS A FAT COW”

By Grace O’Reilly

My name is Grace O’Reilly.  I am a 29 year old woman from Bray, happily married with a 2 and a half year old daughter and a 6 week old son.  Olivia and Benjamin along with my husband Simon are my whole World and make me smile.

Today I am writing a piece that is not so happy.  It is about bullying!  This piece is being written today I think, as the inspiration came from the fact that many people are starting school tomorrow (either for the first time or returning after the Summer break has finished).  What a lovely Summer it was too?

Unfortunately it is something that I had to endure for all of my school life from Junior Infants right up until 6^th year ( and then briefly after school some years later in the form of betrayal), although from different people gangs and such.

In Junior Infants I was kicked in the playground by a guy called "John".  I don’t know why but I do remember his mother worked in at the time a supermarket in our town Bray, Co Wicklow called “Crazy Prices”.  I wore glasses and they would fall on the ground and be scraped.  I remember crying and wondering “WHY”?

Also, I remember being ignored.  A lot of people don’t realise that this is also a form of bullying, exclusion.  I mean I was and am a human being.  I was only 5 years old.  I look at my daughter Olivia (now 2) and my new born son (6 weeks) and think to myself I NEVER want them to feel anything like the pain I felt on an almost daily basis for the best part of 18 years anyway.  The girls were all playing games like “Little Sally Saucer”, “Orange Balls” and “Jackie Bluebells”.  I was never allowed play.

It hit me like a ton of bricks when all the people in my class got cards and presents from each other at Christmas time and I never did and invitations to each others Birthday parties.  To this day I still don’t know why I was the one that stuck out like a sore thumb but I did.

I mean don’t get me wrong I did have some friends but they never stuck by me as each year we’d be put in different classes and I would have to start again to TRY and make friends.  In 4^th class I was friends with a girl and she laughed like a seal.  Not saying that in a mean way but it is so unusual the things you remember when you are older about such things.  This girl has an addiction to cherry flavoured cough drops called “Vicks”.  She was a year or so older than me and stole things.  I remember a girl who is now one of my close friends (although I have seen her once in a year!), who had her bag filled with people in the classes pencil cases and such belongings and framed.  This SEAL was actually the one who robbed the stuff and my friend got in trouble.  The SEAL did tell me it was her.  She also bullied me into throwing a walking stick belonging to two girls (sisters) in the clsses Grandfather’s stick over the wall or she’s spread rumours about me.  I was so scared I did.  I never told my mother the truth and got in trouble for it.

The following year was the worst of what was to come.  5^th and 6^th class and 1^st year were the only years I wasn’t too badly bullied.   Ironic, because my best friend (so I thought) became my worst bully ever.

Was sitting alone in the yard and this girl came over and asked me if I wanted to hang out with them.  I was so happy.  She was so confident, into boys, music (Spice Girls were mega big then with “Wannabe” all over the charts) ... (again ironic as all I wanted was to be a SOMEBODY never mind a WANNABE”).  I remember my mother being cautious because her little girl was getting into make-up, boys, going down the town with her friends (not her mummy) for the first time ever with pocket money at that, and going into “Golden Discs” to buy cd’s of Kerri Ann (who at the time was like “OMG WOW”, and I got to meet her) that mum was worried not only about her baby growing up but maybe what I was getting into.  A gang of girls (and believe me girls CAN be much bithier than lads) we hung out together.  To be fair when things got bad it wasn’t them all but I am sure they know who they are.  We went to my new best friend’s house, chatted about boys, and I went to my first disco with her.  A Summer Project one.  We did disco-thons and was great fun.

It started to go bad at the end of 1^st year .  I am now sipping a “West Coast Cooler” with a genuine sore thorat (not the achy one you get trying to stop yourself from crying).  I had suffered badly with anaemia and sore throats and was supposed to do “Battle of the Bands” with my gang of friends.  I was knocked for ten with a bad bout of tonsillitis and was off school for about a week.  I thought it was strange that I never heard from them that week.  This was JUST pre mobile phones where only a small few owned one and people still rang each other AFTER 6pm if on the parent’s house phone.  They either had Early Bird minutes on Night Owl ones.  Mum was a Night Owl.  Twit Twoo!

When I went back in after the week off I was told I had been replaced and that they were all mad at me.  A horrible few days passed and they talked to me again but things had changed.  The year before outside of school I had met friends and (started to find myself as a person) in drama schools DRY RAIN and GLADY’S SHEEHAN.   I spend most of the Summer with them and I went to London to see my Aunt for a week.  I had my tonsils removed that Summer too and when I went back BAM.  I was locked in a locker on a Wednesday after school.  We got half days and it was an hour later a teacher heard me crying and shouting and let me out.  I had water thrown over me over the main school wall.  In business studies class I had a note with a picture of me drawn in blue pen.  I’d a wart on my nose, glasses and spots (in the picture) and underneath was written “This is Grace Downes”.  That hurt.  I was bombarded by many more of these notes, several times a day.  Banged into.  I’d eat my lunch sitting on a toilet in a cubicle afraid.  One of the last straws was my supposed best friend wrote on an estate called “Ardmore Park” near the monkey puzzle trees (we hung out in) on big, capital black writing “GRACE DOWNES IS A FAT COW”.  I remember seeing this and I couldn’t believe my eyes.  I kept on my way to meeting her and some others and when I got there I said what had happened. It was only when I said Mum was going to involve the Garai that she came clean and said sorry.  She was sorry she was caught that was all. We were 15 and now nearing the end of 3^rd year.  A year and a half had passed.

14 years later I still get as upset about it, even more so now I am a parent too.  Last Summer,  2012 just before I when I started to write and get published that I had nightmares and woke sobbing to my husband shouting “STOP,  WHY ME?”, only to find myself in a sweat with my baby cuddling me saying it is ok now.

I had a glass bottle thrown at me by a different circle of bullies (I’d my “friend” bullies and the knackery-doo  bullies at me at the same time) during a history block class for my Junior Certificate.  THAT WAS the last straw.  I went home and sobbed, hid under my duvet and considered slicing my wrists.  Only for the fact that I wrote to my Aunt in London and went there for another break i think I may have done so  That is why it makes me sad to see bullies getting away with so much and living happy lives many years later.  Some don’t even realise the impact of their doings.  So many people have committed suicide over bullies.

After the graffiti I was bulimic although never looked for help for a while.  I’d say to myself “This carrot is (say Ameila) and I’d stick my fingers down my throat and be sick.  I’d wash my face look at myself and say “Grace well done you dealt with her”, although looking back I never really did deal with it, just went through the motions.

Just months before the glass bottle incident a few girls took me under their wing (they were the year ahead of me) and 2 girls in my own year (one lives in Gorey where I live now) and I thank them so much.  I don’t think they realise HOW much of guardian angels they really were to me.

A guard had to come around to my house and physically drag me out from under my duvet after several hours and I still hysterical and hadn’t moved.  This was when I said to the guard and my parents I HAD to change school.  Although I wasn’t bullied in the nice Irish school I went to after I didn’t have friends really in my class.  My one friend she is still one of my dearest friends was a year ahead of me.

My point in writing this piece was to highlight to anyone who is a bully to stop.  I really hope this is an eye opener for you.  If you are a victim, please stand up for yourself.  Don’t let anyone put you down.

Although I will always revisit in my mind (not always by choice)  what happened I still don’t know why?  At least I have some really close friends now (some who went through those dark days with me), a husband I adore and who adores me and two beautiful children.  This was hard to write but as a mother I don’t want my children or anyone for that matter to go through this so if me writing this helps someone it was worth it.

The End

27 Aug 2013

Tell Your Own Story

Writing, A Therapeutic Remedy, Grace O’Reilly

Article by Grace O'Reilly ©.
Posted in the Magazine (Tell Your Own Story: Writing & Me).

MAKE YOUR SUBMISSION TO WRITING & ME

There are so many types of writing, reviews, and pieces like this on a certain theme, travel reviews, poems, short stories, novels and children’s stories. Some are true, some are fiction, some happy and some not at all, some are funny and some are just plain old fact.

I got into creative writing when I was in second class at the age of 8. My teacher at the time Mrs McCabe showed me that I was good at it and encouraged me. For that I will be eternally grateful. I wasn’t an extremely academic child, I wasn’t lazy and I didn’t have a condition like dyslexia, school just wasn’t for me, for so many reasons. I was badly bullied in both primary and secondary school although the scars I have today mainly formed from secondary school.

I liked drama too when I was younger. Dry Rain, Gladys Sheehan, and Backstage Academy were just some of the places where I did plays and shows. Like writing, (at first), it was an escape route. Ironically enough though drama groups were one of the places I found my dearest oldest and truest friends because as time went by I leaned to like myself and opened up and people seemed to like me for who I was unlike in school. Now I am learning to love myself with the aid of my best friend, my husband.

A lot of my poems are sad when I read back on them. I am 28 now and just two months back into writing and doing so well. I feel happier and more confident. I did lots of writing between 8 and 19 and then I stopped for some reason. I don’t know why, and am sorry that I did. But when I started to have really bad nightmares, my husband suggested I write them down, and it helped. I remembered my love and passion for writing and started to write stories, poems, reviews etc. This was in June. I had four poems in ‘The Wexford Echo’ papers last week, a travel review in ‘U Magazine’ on Monday, a poem in ‘Irish Parent Magazine’ last year and one in the same magazine in October.I was also longlisted for the Penguin/RTE Guide Short Story competition and attended their workshop day in Dublin.

I changed schools due to the bullying in secondary school and my English teacher made me write a novel as part of the transition year project. I got as far as the 4th chapter and couldn’t continue as my heart ached with every word I wrote. 2 weeks ago, after 11 years in a black ring binder I pulled it out of the dusty box and started to read it and cry as did my husband. Some of it was fiction but 95 per cent truth. I am now going to finish it and try to get it published and it will give that 15 year old Grace the control over her life I didn’t have them and the chance to be free of it forever and the horrendous dreams I still have now.

My worst fear is that my daughter comes home and tells me she is being bullied because that would really break my heart. I am hoping that in having my book published it will make other victims of bullying see that they are not alone and that there is hope and may perhaps act as an eye opener for any bullies out there as to how in ten years time you may not even remember the person who you ridiculed in a hallway in front of 100 other students but that it has affected the victim forever. Even if my novel doesn’t get published it is therapeutic for me and will give me a sense of closure.

When I write it is like having somebody to talk to. I can say in writing exactly what is happening to me, to others or just in general and express how I am feeling in words. A diary is like a keepsake of a first kiss for instance you may want to cherish and chuckle over with your spouse when you are 70 years old over a glass of wine. Diaries are a nice thing to have as are journals. I have a pregnancy journal and a baby’s first year journal which I have in a big box for my 18 month old daughter Olivia.

Writing is a huge part of who I am and is my special place to go.

Berlin Christmas Markets – Our Honeymoon – November 2010

By Grace O’Reilly

My new husband and I went to Berlin, Germany for our honeymoon in November 2010.  It was such a beautiful place.  From many parts of Berlin the TV tower is very visible.  The river Rhine is very scenic and beautiful.  We had timed our trip to fit in with the Christmas markets.  They were all over Berlin. 

We went to the markets in Alexanderplatz, Potsdamerplatz and Charlottenburg.  The main Christmas market was in Charlottenburg Palace, and was held in the grounds.  It was very magical.  We went at night time and the lights were spectacular, illuminating the palace.  There were dozens of stalls with various wares such as cheese, sweets, toys, candles, soap, bags, wallets and clothes.  The other stalls were eateries serving drinks such as mulled wine.  Some stalls were two-storey in height and built like a real bar where you sat down inside. Foods on offer at the Christmas markets were pancakes, sausages (of all descriptions), waffles and chestnuts, all to be enjoyed.  The sights, music, smells and overall atmosphere were wonderful. 

The German people are extremely found of their snacks, especially sausages.  They have so many varieties; bratwurst and currywurst are only two of the many varieties.  Vending machines even sell pepperoni sticks at U Bahn stations.  Astonishingly there is even a Currywurst museum.

My husband and I stayed in Buelowstrasse, and the location was ideal for us.  We were very central and right across from the U Bahn station.  We went to Alexanderplatz and saw the ‘Ka De We’ department store.  It reminded me of a mini Harrods (in London).  The prices were for the extremely well off but definitely intriguing to look at.  The building itself is spectacular, with its architecture and from a historical aspect.  It was one of the very few buildings untouched during the Second World War.

In Potsdamerplatz, we went for a walk through the Christmas markets and saw that they had a toboggan slope.  As I was heavily pregnant it was too daring for me to try, although my new husband Simon braved it and had a go.  Up the big slope he walked with his tyre and tobogganed down the icy slope.

We went to the Television and Film Museum.  In our opinion it really wasn’t worth the effort of going.   The staff had no time for us and as we had very little German and the museum had very little English it was hard to understand what was going on in the television section of the museum.   The film part was a lot better in comparison to the television section.  The displays and models are very good.

The Berlin Zoo is at the Zoological Garten U Bahn station.  It is brilliant.  Dublin and London Zoos are nothing in comparison.  The zoo is huge, the animals all seem happy and well treated and there is a large selection of animals living there.  They range from elephants, to different types of primate, to tigers and lions, to polar bears and pandas, birds, bats and penguins.  There is even an aquarium.  The aquarium part is as good as Sealife in Barcelona, (in Spain) and better than Sealife in Bray (in Ireland).  The zoo was probably my favourite thing as being pregnant I could leisurely walk at my own pace and enjoy the surroundings, and I love animals.

Simon and I went to see part of the Berlin Wall.  It was very interesting and all of the artistic pieces are all completely different to each other.  I’d say we walked for a good half hour or more, in the cold and wet just admiring the wall.  There was even one of Batman which we both thought was fantastic.  The river Rhine is by the wall too.  It is near to Checkpoint Charlie.

We went to see ‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows’ in the cinema in Potsdamerplatz.  It was in English and a nice cinema.   In the area outside is Legoland, which has a giant giraffe made of lego.

I felt for ages like I never wanted to see another sausage again, when we arrived home.  Apart from the flights over and back as well as being quite sick Berlin is a great place.  There is so much to do and see in Berlin.  We only did a handful of the things on offer.

If you like beer and sausages Berlin is definitely a place you must go.

“Not Dead Yet” by Peter James

By Grace O’Reilly

This is the eighth book is the “Roy Grace” series written by Peter James and is a real page turner.  By chapter 5, I was engrossed in it.  There is lots of action and surprises.   Although James’ command of the language is good, there are too many characters and he can be over-descriptive.  I would strongly suggest reading the first 7 books in the “Grace” series before this one, as there are a lot of running references and plot threads that are woven throughout the entire series.  That aside I did enjoy the book from start to finish. It’s an entertaining read if a little unimaginative and predictable.

Gaia is a rock star, who isn’t everybody’s cup of tea, as she is a very provocative lady in the showbiz world, yet she longs to be taken seriously as an actor.  She lands a role in a major Hollywood movie about King George IV and Maria Fitzherbert. Shortly after she lands the role, an attempt on her life is made by a crazed stalker.  Gaia feels she could be a great Maria and they had being a diva in common. “Maria Fitzherbert was the diva of her day, in Regency England”. On her arrival in Brighton, DS Roy Grace is assigned to protect her.   With an obsessed fan stalking Gaia and a barrel of Personal  troubles, Grace also has to contend with a string of grisly murders which may or may not mean that the stalker is loose in his city looking to “Kill that Bitch!”

Overall I would recommend this book to fans of the series or hardcore crime fans. It’s suitably gruesome and well written but the material is too thin to be anything truly special.

Manchester City

My husband and I are just back from our trip to Manchester city.  We were over for our friend’s wedding.  The city is great for a 2 to 5 day break.  This was my third and my husband’s second time there.

Piccadilly is the train station for the city itself and is a 10 minute walk from the Piccadilly Gardens which is a nice yet small green area with a fountain and some cafés.  It is situated on the corner of Market Street.  It was formerly called Lever’s Row and housed an infirmary from 1755 until 1910 and temporary housed a department of the Library before it was moved to the Manchester Central Library.  There is a statue of Queen Victoria on the green too that was erected by the people of Manchester in 1901. 

For those of you who love to shop there is the Arndale Centre which is situated on Market Street.  There is a giant Primark (Penny’s) too and for those who can afford to splurge a bit there are designer shops around the corner from the Arndale Centre such as Ted baker, Harvey Nichols and Louis Vuitton.  The Arndale Centres was the first American style shopping malls in England and the one in Manchester was the largest shopping space in Europe in 1971 when it was opened.  It was called the Wandsworth Arndale until it was redeveloped after the 1996 bombings.

Across from this there is the Manchester Cathedral which is a beautiful Gothic building.  Built over a period of 600 years it was hit by the “Blitz” bombings at Christmas time in 1940 and was repaired after.  Some of the flags and tapestries in the cathedral were singed and still are hanging with burn marks adding to history of the building.  It also survived the invasion of the Vikings.  The stained glassed windows are brightly coloured.  It is one of the oldest cathedrals in England.  The garden around it is nice and green. The archives from the Manchester Cathedral date back as far as 1421.

Real old fashioned hearty British cuisine at affordable prices can be hard to find, not in Manchester.  Literally beside the Cathedral is The Old Wellington Inn.  It’s a British pub that serves ales, stout, larger, beer, cider, wine and the most scrumptious food, pies of all sorts, curries, burgers, bangers and mash, chips and vegetable as well as yummy desserts.  Not only is the food, drink, staff and service great but the building has been there since the 1552.  Until a bomb on the city in 1996 the pub was situated on Market Street and rebuilt in 1997.  Then it was moved literally block by block and rebuilt where it stands today in 1999 to make way for the Arndale Centre.  In the 1800’s the pub was used as a space for making mathematical and optical equipment and a fishing shop on the other floors.  The pub is old fashioned and made from timber and has a very homely and welcoming vibe.

The Royal Exchange Theatre is fascinating.  A Victorian building brightly decorated in colours inside.  It has an octagonal main theatre where we saw ‘Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream’.  It has a bar, café, education lounge and craft shop, as well as an information desk selling programmes and then a ticket desk area.  Upstairs there is a gallery, a walkway showing art.  There is an area in front of the café which is a floor space used as a small stage.  It was used for the cotton trade before being used as a theatre.  It was hit by the “Blitz” bombings in 1940 and by the IRA in 1996.  Both times it was badly damaged.  The theatre was founded in 1976.  It is reported to be extremely haunted and was on Most Haunted on television. 

There are a lot of colleges in Manchester.

The Science museum founded in 1969 and the Aviation Museum are across from each other.  The Science Museum did a demonstration of how they used to make cotton in Manchester in the 1800’s and 1900’s.  They also had the first computer ever invented called “The Baby”.  The museum had a huge array of things from nature, inventors, engines, machinery etc.  In the Air museum they had many different models of planes including the AVRO plane and may more.  It showed the first car invented by Ford and how it changed from a 2 seater with no roof to a 4 seater with a roof and doors over just a few years.

The Manchester Art Gallery was opened in 1824.  It has something for every artist lover’s taste from Victorian, to Impressionist to Renaissance and Gothic art pieces.  The pieces were mainly paintings but there were lots of sculptures and glass, wooden, steel and clay pieces.  There is an African area and there was an interesting yet quite weird piece that was a man saying “Is this the end?” repeatedly.  There was a keyboard attached to a watering can with wires attached to many other things and making strange noises.  There was a nice but pricey gift shop and a nice café.

The Piccadilly Hotel, Manchester (a part of the Hotel Mercure chain) where we stayed was a minute from Piccadilly Gardens and a very affordable and modern hotel.  The staff were extremely friendly and the rooms nice.  The bar and breakfast area was spacious and with beautiful views of the city and the Piccadilly Gardens.  The only fault with the hotel was the lift took you to every floor before the one you wanted and it confuses me I have yet to stay in a hotel with a floor 13.  It went from 12 to 14.

Manchester is a must go for people looking for a city break.

Grace O’Reilly

24 July 2012