Work related stuff pulled me over the pennines to Manchester for the first time since I left TBWA.
Despite the fact it was, predictably, raining, I realised I quite missed it. There's an wry, upbeat realism you don't get anywhere else, especially Yorkshire that basks in it's plain-speaking dourness a little too much at times.
But then the drive home was the usual bumper-to- bumper, gridlocked nightmare. Let me tell you, it was so bad I had to stop and get a Greggs steak bake to compensate. It was either that or turn to the Manchester branch of The Church of Scientology. I reckon I'd make a great Thetan. I wander if Zenu makes tea in the pot?
NORTHERN PLANNER 
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