Manc

On Tuesday my fiance, my sister and I visited my brother in Manchester where he is reading philosophy. In the evening we tried some banana ale before heading to a rock club called Satan's Hollow. The club was in a basement with an interior that looked like something out of Silent Hill: sinewy, fleshy walls with devils faces leering out and bars on the windows made for the perfect environment in which to thrash around to some heavy metal. A shame, then, that the DJ elected to play indie all night long.

The next day I tortured the girls by dragging them round an exhibition called Subversive Spaces. It was about surrealism and hysteria in modern art and should prove very useful for my modernism essay.