"This is Manchester. We do things differently here."
You'll see and hear a lot of that kind of thing in the coming days and weeks. Manchester's back catalogue of self-congratulatory platitudes is vast and comically vain. But of course, in the light of the tragic events of Monday night, each cocksure quote takes on a far more pronounced resonance and poignancy.
Some of the unofficial slogans feel a tad hollow. If (God forbid), say Sheffield or Liverpool experienced a similarly horrific event, would they not react in much the same way? With a kindness and generosity and selfless commitment to helping those in peril and mourning? Probably. People may be absolute dicks, but people are also pretty wonderful – wherever they're from.
The thing is, I don't know about anywhere else. I only really know Manchester. It is where my dad settled when he came over from Pakistan back in the sixties. Somewhere a little warmer and drier would've been nice, but not really. I reckon he made the right choice. This is where I'm from and wholly belong, and these streets and buildings and people are mine.
https://twitter.com/BeardedGenius/status/866979698475249664
Nothing about how Manchester reacted to the horror of the Arena attack has surprised me much. The cowardly mass murder distressed and upset, with the loss of life a stab to the heart, but the overall response has been reassuring and spot on. The very genuine "You okay, love?" attitude which combines concern and practicality is textbook Manc.
It's one part daft-but-doting dad, and two parts over-protective mum (touch so much as a hair on their child's head and they'll fucking cut you), with a healthy sprinkling of 'let's get you cleaned up' tabard-wearing dinner lady. Manchester has a massive heart, but it's not a natural home to schmaltzy sentiment. If there's a problem or someone needs help, it's time for action, not tears.
That said, certain things cut through. Only a week ago, the city's collective psyche was reliving the harrowing and generation-scarring Moors Murders, with the passing of the monstrous Ian Brady. Despite the fact that it all happened over 50 years ago, the sense of anger and loss remains fresh, partly because those grieving were never allowed proper closure.
https://twitter.com/BeardedGenius/status/866974701524054021
Then Monday happened. An arena of excitable gig-goers - mostly giddy girls having the time of their young lives - was brutally attacked. Manchester is a place of music and revelry and excitement, and many of those present would have been experiencing a taste of that for the first time. What kind of cruel and twisted mind destroys something so pure?
Us locals are generally dismissive of anything too relentlessly sombre or humourless. Manchester is a city of pisstakers, ice-breakers and expert ego-prickers. But the gut-wrenching flurry of pretty young faces shared on social media by loved ones was desperate and sobering. Lost children, some for a stressful while, others for a devastating forever.
A city mourns, but a city acts. Composure is hard to maintain when contemplating such cruel loss, and yet at once those in need become the priority. Sofa beds, scarce floor space, and over-sugared cuppas were offered with warm abandon, to calm and console and comfort the best way possible. 'No such thing as community' is a proven lie.
https://twitter.com/BeardedGenius/status/866971847564414976
Where there used to be terraced streets, cobbled roads and shared ginnels, there may now be glass and steel and concrete. But the same old Manchester exists in the attitudes and behaviours of our cosmopolitan people. The taxi drivers, ambulance staff, police officers, doctors, and kind volunteers of this place are every colour helping every shade, and beautifully so.
The city's cocksure sense of self may be irritating to some, and somewhat misplaced to others, but in moments like this it cloaks over you like a reassuring blanket. It is an unwavering confidence in who we are and what we represent, and like fuck are we gonna let outside forces either break our resolve, or manipulate us into turning on our own. No chance.
On Tuesday, Manchester was cracking on as usual because nowt comes from moping. But the atmosphere was muted and a bit surreal. This was partly due to all the cameras and police and barrier tape, but also because some part of the city was unavoidably missing, and being missed. But there was also jokes and laughter, as everyone tried to cheer everyone else up.
https://twitter.com/BeardedGenius/status/866975959244787712
The sun was out, and workers who had been temporarily evacuated from their stores were sat around on benches and stoops, nattering away as per. The pisstakery was in full flow, with people waving in the background of camera shots and joking about being famous in Japan. The smiles were a bit forced though, with creases of concern never far away.
It was Tony Wilson, by the way, who said that thing about Manchester doing things differently. I dunno if that's true. But I do know that Manchester does things pretty well, and I've never been more proud to be from here. It's a special place, and I feel dead sorry for anyone who thinks they could possibly destroy what we have here. They never will.
https://twitter.com/BeardedGenius/status/866978739523080192
