Back On The Telly

G's status as semi-regular media commentator continues. We were on ITV1's Daybreak this morning, talking about the government's latest attempt to introduce a bit more flexibility into the system of parental leave. Well, I was talking about it, G was mostly shown playing with her train set.

As is often the case with these things, it was an old colleague and friend of mine who now works at Daybreak who teed me up for it. I went to collect G from nursery a bit early so she could be at home for when the video journalist came to film with us.

G's been on TV quite a few times before for various things, so she wasn't at all bothered by the camera. She dutifully sat quietly on my knee throughout the interview, then gave plenty of winning smiles as she played with Thomas. Although as I pointed out to the reporter, the lack of children's TV on ITV these days meant we had to go with a character seen on Channel 5. How very off brand of me.

A slightly bigger mishap occurred when the reporter mistook a side table for a stool, and sat on it. It immediately broke in half and he ended up on his backside, the sort of moment that could really have done with some canned laughter to go along with it. So if you ever wonder where the money from all those adverts on ITV goes, I can say that a little is going to be spent on a new table for our living room.

G actually seemed a bit poorly and hot overnight, and didn't sleep very well, so neither of us were inclined to get up to watch our performance actually being broadcast. But I taped it, and showed it to her later. Straight on after our bit was none other than Nick Clegg, announcing the new policy on behalf of the government. Long-time readers of this blog might recall that it's not the first time he's shared the media spotlight with G, but that's another story.

(UPDATE 13/11: Our local ITV News programme, Granada Reports, turned my interview into a whole report, which you can watch in full here. If you want to watch Gwenno eating a sandwich in excruciating detail, then make sure you stick it out to the end! Also, note the slightly weird use of our wedding photo, kind of as if we'd died)

Singing To The Nation

G has been on TV before, and today she did it again, as I was called on by my old colleagues at Sky News to do an interview about the latest government plans for more flexibility regarding maternity and paternity leave.

Now that she's a bit older than she was for her previous media appearances, G can't be relied on to sit quietly while daddy discusses the finer points of employment law (or rather while daddy burbles on in the hope the reporter can find a brief bit coherent enough to use in the final report). So, the reporter and cameraman needed to get lots of shots of G playing and doing various cute baby things, to use along with the interview.

One of the cute baby things G has learned is the actions to the nursery rhyme Wind The Bobbin Up, the sort of cotton mill-based rhyme I don't imagine they sing much down south. Anyhow, with G plonked on the sofa, I sang this to get her to do the actions, and smile winningly, which she duly did. It was only when I watched the story go out on Sky later that I realised not only had they kept the sound of my singing in, but they'd put it as the very first thing in the report.

I'm not sure the nation is quite ready to hear my singing. If I'd known they were going to do that, I'd have suggested they got the presenter to read one of those warnings, like "you may find some aspects of this report distressing" or whatever. I hope the sound of my dodgy singing voice didn't put too many people off the proposal, which as a stay-at-home dad I perhaps unsurprisingly think is a good idea.

You can watch the report, singing and all, at the Sky News website here.

As shown by the picture below, G watched herself back later. She started doing the hand actions again during the singing bit, and even played peek-a-boo with herself at the end. Yes, that was as cute as it sounds.

The Pramgate Affair

G was at the centre of an actual political scandal this week. You could tell it was an actual political scandal, because it had the word 'gate' at the end of it. Let me tell you about Pramgate.

Nick Clegg made his third visit of the Oldham East and Saddleworth by-election campaign on Tuesday. Me and G went along to cover the event for Saddleworth News. As he knocked on some doors with the Lib Dem candidate, watched by a huge collection of journalists and party workers, I hung around at the back with G in her pram, and thought I'd try to take a few photos when Mr Clegg eventually walked back towards us.

The picture above shows one of those photos, and also captures a moment seconds before controversy struck. Newsnight's Michael Crick was doing his usual thing of grabbing a few words with a politician while on the move, and sadly his cameraman (on the left) was going backwards, and wasn't looking where he was going, so bumped into G's pram. I shouted "look out!" and Mr Clegg, who we have met before, leaned over and asked if we were ok, which of course we were.

Later on, he spotted us again and came over for a quick chat. "She really does go everywhere with you, doesn't she?" he said. "Yes, but she just almost got run over by Newsnight, actually," I replied. Mr Clegg then walked on and told Michael Crick off: "You almost just ran over that baby," he tutted. And I thought that was the end of that.

So imagine my surprise as, when I checked my phone later that evening, I had dozens of Twitter messages from people asking me if G was ok. I was quickly able to establish what happened next. BBC North West Tonight had made a light-hearted feature of this whole 'incident' during Clegg's visit, and a left-wing political gossip blog had got the wrong end of the stick, and said it had heard a rumour that Clegg had actually kicked a baby during his trip to Oldham. It seemed that a lot of people already believed this to be true.

Before things got out of hand I issued a statement denying the Deputy Prime Minister had kicked G, which was itself deemed worthy of reporting by the Politics Home website. It described this as "2011's strangest political denial." But the denial didn't have much impact. With folk already describing the 'incident' as Pramgate, the biggest political blog in the country, Guido Fawkes soon decided to stick its oar in as well. "There's definitely some sort of contact," it intoned, after poring over footage broadcast by both North West Tonight and Newsnight.

G was the centre of attention the next day, the last of the campaign. At the Lib Dem event, visitor Chief Secretary to the Treasury Danny Alexander spotted her and asked if this was the baby he'd been hearing so much about. Later, at Labour's last campaign event, several people jokingly asked after G, while one said his main reason for joining Labour instead of the Lib Dems was Labour's firm policy against baby kicking. No matter how much I insisted that Nick Clegg hadn't actually kicked G it didn't matter. History records that he did, and I suppose that's the only thing that counts.

At the count the following night, as it became clear Labour had won a more comfortable victory than expected, their campaign manager said he thought Pramgate had been the crucial moment of the last days of the by-election, which turned things in their favour. I'm fairly sure he was joking. But politics is such a strange business, you can never be sure whether someone's joking or not.

Britain's Most Political Baby

The by-election campaign in our area is now at full-tilt, with polling day now less than a week away. Over the last few days it seems like I've been constantly out and about following one politician or another to interview them for Saddleworth News. Since Mrs J went back to work on Tuesday, G has had to come everywhere with me too.

The picture above shows us in the snow in Oldham today, with the Labour candidate Debbie Abrahams and the Shadow Home Secretary, Ed Balls. Before I could ask him any questions, he asked me what it was like being the only dad at parent-and-baby groups. After that discussion, it seemed a bit bizarre to switch to doing an interview about policing and counter-terrorism, but I suppose that's to be expected when you mix babies and politicians.

Mr Balls wasn't actually the most famous politician me and G interviewed this week. Yesterday, we got a quick chat with none other than the Prime Minister himself.

We'd been told he only had a small amount of time for the media, but that didn't stop a horde of journalists and camera crews turning up outside the garage in Oldham that he was visiting. Only some reporters were going to be allowed in, but as the local media outlet doing by far the most in-depth coverage of the campaign, I was on the list. As my name was called I pushed G inside along with several very well-known journalists, who produced a variety of expressions ranging from confusion to amusement.

We had to wait a while for the PM, but even though G was well overdue her afternoon nap, she was beautifully behaved. She even remained in a good mood when ITN's political correspondent mistakenly took her for a boy. Further evidence perhaps that News at Ten's reputation for accuracy isn't what it was.

A few of us local journalists eventually squeezed into a room and waited for Mr Cameron to come in and give us a few minutes of his time. I was in the seat next to the PM with G on my knee, although throughout she seemed more interested in opening and closing a desk drawer which was right in front of her.

At one point, one of the other reporters asked whether the by-election was a referendum on the coalition, at which moment G started giggling at something. The PM said: "You've had your answer here. How old is she? 15 months and already laughing at that idea!" G certainly likes to make everyone know she's there, no matter how important they are.

Sadly only one photographer was allowed on the PM's visit so there aren't any pictures of us meeting him. However, here's one of us in the pub on Tuesday with UKIP's Nigel Farage. A slightly less significant political figure, but a party leader nonetheless.

A very pleasant chap, he advised me that he always took galoshes with him when campaigning to avoid ruining his shoes. I trust he buys British-made ones.

All of this has led to quite a few people suggesting to me that G must now be by far the most political baby in Britain. Not sure if she knows who to support yet though. I have a feeling that whichever party gives her the most brightly-coloured balloons might just sway her.

(pictures: Stuart Coleman Photography)

She Agrees With Nick

Today, an important political figure at the centre of intense media scrutiny met... the Deputy Prime Minister. Nick Clegg was in our area to campaign in the by-election, and I was granted an interview for Saddleworth News. Of course, G came along too.

Mr Clegg looks happy and relaxed in the photos, and he certainly seemed it in the flesh too, despite the headlines of the last couple of days. I suspect there were three reasons for this. First, unlike everyone else he met today, I didn't ask him about Vince Cable's unguarded remarks, the current strife affecting the government not having all that much to do directly with Saddleworth.

Then there's the fact that Mr Clegg has three young children of his own, the littlest not much older than G. He was clearly at ease around her, and told me he'd spent some time at home himself looking after his eldest child, adding that the experience has had a long-lasting effect on him.

If that all sounds a bit grown up, the final factor contributing to Mr Clegg's good mood was definitely G herself. She'd been a bit miserable earlier in the afternoon as I pushed her around Oldham in the cold for an interview with the Conservative Chairman (yes, G racked up two Cabinet ministers in one day). But back in the warmth she was on top form as she smiled, gurgled and pointed at the visiting dignitary, then, as the pictures show, looked expectantly at a sandwich he was eating until she got one herself.

After that it was almost a shame to actually have to do an interview. It crossed my mind that, given the impending rise in tuition fees, the man sitting next to me was as responsible as anyone for adding several thousand pounds to the cost of G's future education. But G isn't old enough to mind about that yet. And besides, he gave her one of his sandwiches, so fair's fair I suppose.

Looking at the photos later, it occurred to me that Mr Clegg might simply have been so pleased to see us because he'd seen the drool G had left on my shoulder. If he spotted it, he didn't say anything. I'm sure that's the sort of discretion he'll be urging some of his colleagues to show in future.

It'll Make Your Hair Curl

I took G to my mum's in the north east yesterday to drop off Christmas presents and show my little girl off a bit more. Sadly, her walking still hasn't improved much, so the main thing she ended up showing off was her incredible appetite.

This photo demonstrates G having breakfast. She'd already had her morning Weetabix (other cereals are available) and was agitating for a bit more, so I cut off a bit of toast for her and went back into the kitchen for a few seconds. When I returned I found that G had left the cut-off bits and just gone for the rest of the slice. She finished it all too.

As G chomped her way through the crusts, my mum said: "It'll make your hair curl." Somehow I don't think it's likely though. Her blonde hair is still as straight as can be, but then she's clearly stubborn like that.

Her extra-large breakfast probably contributed to what happened later in day. Back at home and back on the by-election campaign trail, I found myself interviewing Labour leader Ed Miliband for Saddleworth News. I managed it while holding G in one arm with my dictaphone in the other. Mr Miliband, who has a couple of children himself, seemed rather more interested in discussing G than talking about whether he would apologise for the campaign conduct of ex-local MP Phil Woolas, but then I don't suppose you can blame him for that.

As she usually does, G gurgled winningly throughout the interview. But then filled her nappy ten minutes later. She's clearly still an undecided voter.

On The Television, Again

Going on TV is becoming a bit of a habit for G. After popping up in the background of news reports about the Phil Woolas case both last month and last week, she finally got a starring role in last night's Party People political programme on Granada. I was being asked about what I thought regarding the forthcoming by-election, and G's role was to sit in my arms and look cute throughout, something she's normally fairly good at.

Unsurprisingly, she got a bit bored while I was droning on, and decided to give a gurgle or two. She then tried to grab my mouth. Presumably she wanted me to shut up. I can only hope the viewers at home weren't thinking something similar.

The show was broadcast on ITV straight after the first repeat of the Coronation Street live episode. So within minutes of all those dramatic deaths, viewers in the Granada region were being treated to the sight of me and G standing around in the cold. I think I know which was more exciting.

On The Television

Imagine my surprise last Friday when, during the lead story about the Phil Woolas judicial review on the local ITV Granada news, a familiar looking man-with-baby popped up in the background. The footage was actually taken a couple of weeks ago in Uppermill during a visit to the area by a leading politician, one of many we're going to experience in the coming weeks as a by-election looms.

Given how long broadcasters usually hang on to archive pictures for, I might find that me and G are illustrating political stories on Granada for some time to come. After all, the same poor woman's suffered years of breast cancer screening on the BBC, and I remember during my days working at Sky when someone phoned up to explain that an elderly person who featured in a report on pensioners had long since died. But that's just the magic of television, I suppose.

A Granada crew came back to film us today, only this time to do an interview for a story on the by-election to be shown on Thursday. The reporter was keen for me to give my opinion while holding G, clearly in the knowledge that would add considerable credibility to what I had to say. Unfortunately, G drooled all the way through the first take, so I had to do it again. She must have either been doing a bit more teething, or expressing her general distaste for all politicians. Sadly she didn't elaborate on which it was.

Afternoon Tea

G interrupted a tea party the other day. The Pensions Minister was in our area to speak to local old folks and do a spot of political campaigning, so I went along to interview him for Saddleworth News. G came too, but was less interested in meeting a senior politician, and much more intent on stealing a biscuit or two from the spread which everyone had been enjoying.

Seeing as she was being so good, I let her have this Bourbon and then a Custard Cream, which at least helped keep her quiet during the interview too. As the photo shows, she seemed to really savour the Bourbon in particular, which suggests she might have inherited Mrs J's love of chocolate.

I probably should have saved the treat for yesterday. It was time for G to get another couple of injections, including the MMR jab. Even though the controversy about the MMR's purported link to autism has now faded away, it's still fairly notorious for leaving little ones feeling under the weather for a while. I had the Calpol at the ready, but I didn't need it, because after just a few seconds of post-jab tears G had forgotten all about the injections, and has been fine ever since.

She even managed a smile and a wave at the nurse before we left the surgery. G is definitely daddy's little soldier.

Turning Cold

Things have turned decidedly cold around here in the last few weeks. You wouldn't know it from this picture of G attempting to climb onto my lap in our lovely warm home, but all the going out in the wintry Saddleworth weather has taken it out on both of us. Either I've give her a cold or she's given me one. The end result is the same though, and when it comes to looking after G, we're suddenly spending a lot more on baby wipes and those plug-in things which give off a sinus-clearing vapour.

G is clearly not bothered by the fact we still live in a political vacuum and are without an MP, while Phil Woolas continues to try to regain his seat. Everyone else expects there to be a by-election soon though, including the Liberal Democrats. I walked G along into the next village the other day to interview that party's new President, Tim Farron. It was a bit chilly out though, and he was running a bit late, so G was getting a bit miserable by the time I got to speak to him. The Lib Dem candidate did his bit by pulling faces at G to keep her quiet during the interview. I didn't get either of them to kiss her though, that would have been a cliche too far.

The Thick Of It

G found herself in the midst of political history on Friday. She was there with me as I covered the verdict in the Phil Woolas election court case for one of my other websites, Saddleworth News.

The picture shows G enjoying her milk from a cup as we all waited for Mr Woolas to give a news conference, just after the judges had announced they were declaring his election victory void because he'd used campaign leaflets to spread lies about one of his opponents. The journalists in the room, many of whom were from the big national news organisations, were both amused and surprised to see a baby there with them. I don't think little ones are usually allowed into Downing Street or the High Court. One of the security staff even asked if I was covering it for CBeebies. Obviously that was impossible, because the BBC were on strike on Friday.

The verdict itself had proved to be a bit of a balancing act. Obviously I couldn't go in the main hall where the action was because I was looking after G, but the council press team generously let me into a side room so I could hear what was happening. As the judges delivered their historic verdict, I was trying to peek through a gap in the door, listen to what they were saying, write updates for the Saddleworth News Twitter feed, and keep G quiet with the help of a toy car all at the same time. Who says dads can't multi-task eh?

In the past I've often criticised Sky, where I used to work, for generally buggering up important live events for viewers and listeners by having their news helicopter hovering overhead, making it impossible to hear what the person is actually saying. I now take it all back, because my daughter managed to gurgle away during the statements by Mr Woolas and his solicitor, which they delivered shortly after this photo was taken. I didn't actually notice at the time (I was crouched down at the front taking photos), but when I heard it back on the news later, there was an unmistakeable "gagagaga" in the background. Sorry, everyone.

It actually got worse a bit later, when the candidate who brought the legal challenge, Elwyn Watkins, emerged to give his own address to the media. As he began his speech by talking about what a historic moment it was, there was that "gagagaga" again. Oh dear. If you want to hear the evidence for yourself, check out this video report of the day.

G didn't just settle for making an audio contribution to these dramatic events though. She was visible on all the main news bulletins that night, sitting contentedly in her pram as Mr Woolas walked past her at the end of his news conference, to the sound of journalists shouting, "Are you a cheat Mr Woolas?" and suchlike. Next time, maybe it'll be G asking the questions. It might be a bit early to think about career choices, but she's already had plenty of media training.

Election Day

I took G to vote in her first election today. She was probably better informed than most of the people voting, because she'd met all the candidates when I interviewed them for one of my other websites, Saddleworth News. I considered propping her up in the polling booth, giving her the pencil, and just letting her choose. But by the time I'd pushed her round to the polling station at the local school, she'd fallen asleep, so I had to pick for her. I hope I accurately reflected her views.

G at least has the consolation of getting a prominent mention in this article about how local news websites like mine have been covering the election. Even though she's still 17 and a half years away from being allowed to vote for herself, G has already played a role in our democratic process.

Three Meals A Day

Here's G looking thoughtful as she munches her way through her lunch today. She's now onto three proper meals a day, which usually consists of porridge for breakfast, a pot of some kind of baby food for lunch, and some of whatever we're having for tea. Her intake of milk is supposed to go down accordingly, but she's still greedily polishing off her bottles, which suggests she's not going to grow up to be a fussy eater.

She's been a bit miserable at times over the last few days, as her next teeth poke their way through. G has had her two bottom front teeth for a while, and now her two upper fangs are slowly coming into view. This might make her look like a baby vampire, but I know for certain she's definitely not because garlic breadsticks are one of her favourite snacks.

G was on angelic form during her latest election campaign stop this morning, at the office of the local Labour candidate, who's also a pretty well-known government minister. The minister's wife looked after G while I did the interview, and I just about had to prise her back afterwards. G also tried to eat her red rosette, although I think that says less about her support for Labour's policies and more about the fact that just about any object within reach currently goes into her mouth.

On The Campaign Trail

It's the general election campaign, and G must be the most politically active baby in the country. I've begun interviewing various candidates for one of my other websites, Saddleworth News. Most of these meetings are taking place during the day, which means I have to take G along with me. This certainly makes things a bit different from other political interviews. It also means I can let G help me decide which way I should vote. Basically, if any of the candidates makes her cry, they've lost my support.

The picture is of G holding a Conservative balloon (other political parties are available), which was given to her on Saturday as I spoke to the Tory candidate for Colne Valley. She certainly seemed more interested than she did on Thursday when she fell fast asleep during my chat with the Green candidate. Clearly if you want to attract the baby vote, balloons work better than dull conversations about rural transport policy.

A Walk Around Ancoats

We're in our last few days in Manchester. The three of us are moving to Dobcross in Saddleworth this Saturday. While this is exciting for lots of reasons, I'm also going to be sad to leave central Manchester behind, so today I took G for a walk around Ancoats, which I've never properly explored despite living nearby all this time.

It's often said that Ancoats was the world's first industrial suburb. This strikes me a nice way of saying it was a poverty-ridden hellhole where lots of factory workers too poor to go anywhere else lived and died, because it was near the mills where they had jobs. However, the first building you see when you walk towards Ancoats from the Northern Quarter isn't an old mill, but this art deco masterpiece:

It's the old Daily Express building. Built in the 1930s by that newspaper's owner Lord Beaverbrook, back when the Express was the best-selling paper in the country. It was a genuinely great paper back then too, but if you've read the Express in the last ten years you'll know that isn't the case anymore. It was so successful in those days that Beaverbrook built three of these office/palaces, with the others on Fleet Street and in Glasgow. Which perhaps suggests he was either too rich for his own good, or a bit mad. Probably both. The building still looks gorgeous though (the Express moved out in the 80s, it's offices now).

Round the back of the old Express building is Cotton Street. Next to Cotton Street is Loom Street. Can you see a pattern developing here? The sign above is on the side of a small knitwear factory, which still appears to be churning out jumpers just as merchants have been doing in Ancoats for a couple of centuries. There aren't many businesses like that left in the area though.

I'd read a little bit about the history of Ancoats before setting out. During the 19th century heydey of the cotton industry, it was, unsurprisingly, full of migrant workers. Initially these were mostly Irish. In 1867, there were so many Irish workers around that the Fenian prisoners sprung from a police van by the Manchester Martyrs managed to hide in Ancoats following their escape, even though they were the most wanted men in the country.

But over time the Irish influence in Ancoats gave way to immigration from Italy, turning the area into, yes, Manchester's own Little Italy. I know, I was surprised too, but this excellent site has a wealth of information about it. Cutting a long story short, the Italian community thrived until Italy ended up on the other side in the Second World War, and all Italian nationals living in Britain were interned on the Isle of Man. By the time they came back to Manchester, a mixture of slum clearances and new suburbs dispersed the Italian families throughout the city.

Anyway, as I wandered around today I was hoping to spot some sign of the area's Italian past, but the only thing left seems to be this Catholic church:

Those banners relate to a campaign to save it, so presumably it's either closed already or is under threat. The pictures are of the most recent Whit Sunday walk, which Italians in Manchester still do every year. At this point G was fast asleep, and I thought to myself that an Italian coffee, or even better an Italian ice-cream, would really hit the spot, but sadly there's nothing like that available in Ancoats anymore. That's despite what the 'inspirational' graffiti on the construction site billboards says:

The only answer to this is, "no, it isn't." That's not to say Ancoats might not become vibrant and desirable one day, or that there's no point in trying to improve the area, but a bit of realism would be more welcome than nonsense like this.

Having said that, the amount of work that's already taken place demonstrates the council and other quangos are clearly keen to make it better. There's already a new public square, called the Cutting Room, complete with murals of the overgrown land which was cleared to make way for it:

However, even though it's a public space, there weren't actually any members of the public around to enjoy it, except for a couple of skateboarders. Admittedly it was a cold day in January, but the old maxim 'if you build it, they will come' hasn't worked here yet.

There are now a fair amount of flats in some of the old mill buildings, but with no shops or pubs or anything like that actually in Ancoats, it's difficult to see why any of the residents would bother hanging around these still rather bleak-looking streets, when the Northern Quarter and central Manchester are just a short walk away.

The Cutting Room square is overlooked by another church, this one Anglican, and very definitely not a church anymore. Like several of the mill buildings in the area, it's been saved from decay in recent years but remains empty, although there's apparently a plan to turn it into a museum of embroidery:

A museum is the sort of attraction that might encourage people to spend a bit of time in the area, which is the only way to get other businesses into Ancoats, which in turn will make it a much more pleasant place to spend time. Unfortunately, despite all the repair work which has obviously gone into many buildings, there are still an awful lot that look pretty decrepit:

I've no idea who Barrow, Hope and Co. were, and neither does Google, so I imagine it's quite some time since they went out of business.

I suppose one of the problems Manchester has when it comes to these wonderful old mills is that, well, there are just so many of them. In most cities an apartment complex in such a building would really stand out, making it a very desirable address. But here the supply of epic Victorian brick structures far outweighs the demand to live in them, let alone the developers' ability to convert them all.

As an example, here's just a small part of the Murrays' Mills complex:

The buildings were saved from ruin in the 90s, and look fantastic (that's the Rochdale Canal at the end of the street, the Murrays even had their own bit of the canal routed into the building on the left). The building on the right now has some flats in it, a bit of office space and even a couple of furniture shops on the canal-front. The building on the left, and it's far bigger than this photo suggests, still appears to be completely empty.

And that's the situation for Ancoats in general. Until more people live, work and spend more of their time in the area, it's not genuinely going to become 'vibrant and desirable' like the PR guff says. Not much of that is going to happen until the recession's over and developers have big money to invest once again.

I hope the improvements to Ancoats continue though, because there's nowhere quite like it anywhere else in the UK. Its rich industrial and social history is (at least partly) told by all the wonderful buildings which still survive, the sort of buildings demolished in other areas. Maybe when G's a bit older I can bring her back, and we can see how much things have changed.

In Praise Of Urbis

Mrs J has gone away to a hen party, which makes today my first full day home alone with G. So I decided to take her out to another of Manchester's museums. A friend is up from London and wanted to see the new exhibitions on UK hip hop and the history of TV in the north-west currently on at Urbis, so all three of us went along. Both of the exhibitions were particularly good, with lots of interesting archive stuff to see. I was particularly taken with all of the vintage Granada programmes being shown in the TV exhibition, although amidst all the eulogising about the wonder of Manchester's TV history there was sadly no mention of Granada Men and Motors and the short-lived show presented by Vanilla Ice and Jordan. Can't think why.

G wasn't quite so impressed, in fact she slept the whole time, which at least meant we could take in everything at our leisure. As you can see, the photo above shows G completely ignoring a collection of hip hop magazine covers. Don't let her verdict put you off though, both of the exhibitions are on until the spring and I'd recommend each of them if you get the chance to go. In fact there are plenty of good reasons to visit Urbis anytime, including the beautiful building itself, the family-friendly cafe, and the fact that it is free, which you don't have to be Scottish to approve of. After a controversial start to its existence back in 2002, Urbis has now become of the best things about Manchester.

However, it looks like things are going to change. The trustees of the National Football Museum in Preston want to move it to Urbis, and they will probably get their wish. Basically not enough people visit the museum at its current location, so it loses money. The people who run it reckon they could get four times as many folk through the doors if it were housed at Urbis. No doubt they're right, and if there's going to be a football museum anywhere it may as well be in Manchester. But if Urbis fills up with balls and caps and scarves, there won't be much space left for the sort of exhibitions I went to see today. More's the pity.