Indelibly Mancunian moments. Struggling through the windy rain with Paul to the local Chinese chippy. Freezing cold, the first chip, burning your mouth enough to leave blisters, then feeling it travel inside you, warming you inside on the way down before radiating heat from the well deep inside. Grinning at Paul, watching steam come out of our mouths, and shovelling delicious, salty green slop onto the top of the next chip before guzzling it. And the delicious taste of Chip Barms, that strange "Oven bottom muffin" flat read roll, stoked with chips and salt.
I miss Manchester.
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