Manchester/Bath UK Journal Day 3
Quarry Bank Mill, Styal, Manchester, UK
I am sitting in the shadow of a textile/cotton mill dating back to the Industrial Revolution. It’s beautiful, all red brick and wooden accents and wooden bridge over. I have purchased a ticket for access to all three parts of the Mill: the apprentice hall, the Mill itself, and the grounds. I want to be able to explore all the different parts of it available with an eye toward my project.
I have been here before, but it was several years ago and on a tourist visit, and not a research visit.
The man who sold me my tickets asked where I was from, “I can guess,” he said, and then we began talking about my project. Lo and behold, he is a member of the Elizabeth Gaskell Society and has done work on the renovations of her house. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to visit her house this trip because it’s closed to visitors until the Fall because of the renovations.
Now, I am sitting with a tea, in the shadow of this great Mill, waiting for my 11:30 tour of the Apprentice Hall and Home. I am glad I brought my laptop with me so I can get my experiences down as I have them instead of waiting until tonight.
On a side note, there are tons of dogs here! It’s a popular place to come on week-end, and so many people have brought their dogs with them. I got a kiss from a golden lab on my way up. Don’t tell Moxie and Harley. They might get jealous.
It was a bit of a pickle getting here, as the tram lets off at Atrincham and the bus station is under renovation. I had to find out where the new bus stop was and walk down there, wait for the #18, and then that bus driver wasn’t sure where it was I wanted to get off. “Here,” I said, and showed him the printout. “Huh,” he said, but managed to get me where I’m going. I got off at Manchester Airport bus terminal and caught the #200 to Quarry Bank Mill. Then, when I leave, I will reverse the process and catch Another Bus to get back to the Guesthouse.
So many buses!
Buses scare me more than travel through tram or train, partly because they don’t always make the stops they need to make, and partly because the stops are not advertised the way they are on the train station. It’s more of a trial and error, guesswork. I always make sure to tell my bus driver where it is I’m trying to go, and then get there that way.
The Postmodern Bluestocking 