There are places I'll remember

On an early autumn sunny Sunday afternoon I took a train to Piccadilly Station, Manchester. This time of year holds a sense of melancholy for me - nostalgia creeps up and ambushes me - the end of the holidays, return to boarding school. The Manchester railway stations hold a lot of memories for me, though they never appear in my dreamscapes, though Leeds station and the area around Manchester Cathedral are regular dream locations. There was a dreamy quality to the afternoon,and I was on my way to see one of my favourite authors, Michael Chabon, in conversation with Dave Haslam at the Whitworth Art Gallery as part of the Manchester Literature Festival. I knew there was a street food market and some music on in Albert Square, so I had arrived early to take a wander. Feeling something of the spirit of a flaneuse, even though there was a purpose to my visit, I decided to stroll. I passed the wall my unsuitable drug dealing boyfriend used to call the People Wall because it created an austere and revealing back drop for anyone walking past it. That was when I was 17. Today a homeless man with his dog rested against it. As I walked past a bar I heard Stevie Wonder singing 'I was made to love her'. Coffee bar jukebox, Gimlet Rock caravan Site, Pwllheli, North Wales circa 1967. Market St - the ghosts of Cromford Court and the Magic Village, New Brown St and the original On the 8th Day. A detour down Cross St, with a side street that led to what was once the Hollies boutique, where I had my first kiss from my first boyfriend. Round to St Annes Square, and The Royal Exchange, where my grandfather did his trading. Up to Albert Square, where I'd seen Candi Staton last year. Food and drink, a conversation with John Robb to thank him for his amazing review about Patti Smith back in September. Bumped into Elliott Rashman last seen at Bill Sykes' book launch for Sit Down! Listen to This!, but also part of the polytechnic 80s music scene, Simply Red's beginnings and the rest is history.Cutting through the threatened corridor between the old and 'new' Town Hall buildings to St Peter's Square. 'Rosencrantz and Guidernstern are Dead'at the Library Theatre when I was studying Hamlet for A level. The Odeon, boarded up and marooned at the top of Oxford St. We had stood in the road, screaming for a glimpse of Scott Walker from the dressing room windows. Package tours and teenage crushes. I met the already mentioned first boyfriend after a Small Faces concert there.On I went, leaving the city centre behind, past the nearly demolished BBC building where I had discussed ideas for programmes that never happened and the new On the 8th Day - such a significant piece of my history.Alberto Y Los Trios Paranoias developing their ideas between customers. XTC and half of Spirit coming in to explore Manchester's famous hippy shop.Bill Shumow, Beefheart's road manager, coming to collect me from work to head off on the tour bus. All Saints and the Cavendish Building, Thursday night discos and Drive in Rock home coming gigs. Royal Northern College of Music, still one of my favourite venues. Music Force - the ghost of the Georgian terrace and the musicians' collective - Bruce Mitchell, Tosh Ryan, Martin Hannett. On past the Students' Union, with a huge crowd outside, one or two I recognised, waiting to see Fun at the Academy. Recent strong memories of Patti Smith, and ancient memories of a film made of the dance troupe I was in when I was 16. By the time I reached the Whitworth I was in a perfect frame of mind to listen to a writer I admire, and I wasn't disappointed.