I went to Manchester. So much going on.
Orlando at the still-wonderful theatre inside the enormous former exchange (with the prices of cotton etc still on the board and as they were when trading ceased). A beautiful and clever piece of theatre, although it lacked some of the deeper resonances of Woolf's novel.
The Grand Budapest Hotel which is much deeper and darker than much of the pink and purple and red confection that has been written about. It's brilliant and inventive in a maverick genius way and definitely requires another viewing with a pause button to take in all the details. It's very funny in places and Ralph Fiennes is a revelation.
A detour to Victoria Station (always my favourite in Manchester) to see this old tiled map of the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway that fills a whole wall and covers the area from Hull to Liverpool. I used to come here when we dropped off my cousin who lived on the other side of the Pennines; the map and the destination names in stained-glass outside on the glass and iron canopy (which have been removed - for repair, I hope, and not permanently) always seemed incredibly romantic and exciting. Just imagine, I could get on a train in Manchester and go to Cork or Bury or Douglas or Preston or Accrington!
Or I could go east to Bremen or Leeds or the Baltic Ports or Goole or Amsterdam!
No wonder I love train travel, stations, and maps. It all started here.