It was a lovely turnout at the IWHC on Weds evening. What a great centre it is, and what lovely people I met there. So many who came to the talk had their own ancestor stories connected with the 'Tan times'. I wish I'd brought a Dictaphone to record them all.
In between my rare visits to Manchester, I always forget how lovely and friendly Mancunians are, so it's always refreshing to be reminded. This trip was no exception, from the Cheetham based Pakistani taxi driver, who said if I needed a lift to town after the event, I should call at his Kelvin Grove home and his wife would drive me into town for free (!), to the ladies who do such a thorough job of cleaning the rooms at the Mitre Hotel and who knocked on to ask if I needed anything else to make my stay more comfortable, and of course the lovely people I met at IWHC. Patrick and I were able to swap memories of Pakistan, as we have both spent time there.
A big thanks to Rose and Margot for making all the arrangements. Even bigger thanks to Rose and hubby John for taking me on a little trip down memory lane before dropping me back in the city. I can't believe John knew so many of my family members, and even remembers me from way back when. Rose updated me on news of my former teachers from Notre Dame too. My old house is still there in Huxley Avenue, though the little industrial unit nearby which used to produce shrouds is now a Sikh Temple, and Notre Dame is long gone, of course. I had a great old tramp around the city centre during my visit too, but oh my, what have they done to Piccadilly Gardens? What a mess it all is. As they say, nostalgia ain't what it used to be.