We’re mad for the sun when the Med comes to Manc,
The rainclouds have cleared and it’s hard not to thank,
As our shopping chores become tomorrow’s tasks,
And we grind to a standstill as the whole city basks.
This sun-soaked scene is set all over town,
The city relaxes as the sun blazes down,
Piccadilly Gardens awash with sunbathers,
All thankful for one day the summer has gave us.
Kids dance through fountains in soaking wet duds,
Screaming and splashing in impromptu floods,
Moments to cherish in infantile minds,
As the sprays become waterfalls in far off climes.
But give up the shopping, it’s simply too hot,
And sit in the shade with the goods that you’ve got,
Time for a spritzer or a beer and a chill,
As Deansgate grinds to a sweaty standstill.
To Livingroom, too busy, there’s no space outside,
It’s standing room only in this patch we reside,
All seats are taken, folks spill out on the street,
Making the most of this unexpected sun treat.
To Saint Annes instead for a sun-filled lunch,
But it’s brimming with bathers nibbling butties or brunch,
Like continental coffee bars we’re all sitting outside,
The square spilling over as Mancunians fry.
So town is too busy there’s nowhere to sit,
But when it’s sunny, Castlefield’s always a hit,
The other side of town, it’s a bit of a trek,
But it’s designed for good weather so hey what the heck.
To walking the canals, it feels just like Venice,
But with cobwebbed tunnels brimming with menace,
Feeding the swans a stray bit of burger,
Then running for cover as ten of ‘em herd you.
To Sunglasses Sundays at Dukes Ninety Two,
If Manchester’s sunny it’s just what we do,
Relax in the courtyard with the sun on your face,
Reminding yourself why Manchester’s ace.
But it’s packed there already, no tables are free,
Coz at the first sign of sun there’s a Castlefield spree,
Didn’t know what to drink, in the end I got gin,
But at last, settling down to some people watching.
Nice lads dressed scally in shorts and in vests,
Girls out peacocking in nightclubbing best,
Hiding weekend sins behind their sunglasses,
But still with Saturday’s wristbands as passes.
The hoards clearly melting but still glitzed and glam,
Girls getting giddy on the sambucas they slam,
Lad’s necking Stellar; the Manc’s gettin’ coarser,
Monday’s work voices will be so much hoarser.
Squeezing in spots where the sun loves the most,
Castlefield’s always the most generous of hosts,
The sun beams down, perfect; we’re all in no doubt,
There’s no better place when Manc’s sun plays out.
But from nowhere a cloud comes into view,
It’s Manchester’s climate, there’s nowt you can do,
Then the downpour opens catching all on the hop,
And the Manchester monsoon means a see through top.
Everyone scatters like there’s darts in the rain,
Sending the sunshine down the Manchester drain,
The courtyard is emptied, the revellers all flee,
Or battle for shelter under the canopy.
The deluge is heavy, drops bounce on the floor,
It’s like we’ve never seen rain storms before,
Castlefield’s cobbles overflow with the flood,
As bullet sized raindrops are unleashed with a thud.
One drop is fatal, sabotaging girls’ hair,
Just yards to the entrance but no one will dare,
So stay under cover… all of us huddled,
Wondering why is our weather so annoyingly muddled?
But sack this we’re Manc, we know how it feels,
To be soaked to the skin in flip flops or heels,
With our wet hair plastered to our sun kissed skin,
To doubt a moment of sunshine is a Mancunian sin.
Umbrellas are useless, there’s just one thing to do,
So dance in the rain til your clothes are wet through,
Bright shine then deluge is our climate’s tradition,
Like someone’s forcing a wet tee-shirt competition.
But still… the rain… slams down in buckets,
As collectively Castlefield sighs, oh just ffff… forget it,
I’m wet now; it’s pointless I’m soaked to the bone,
But a sprinkling of water ain’t sending me home.
There’s an air of reluctance; that’s just how it is,
We don’t live in a Barca, a Rome or Madrid,
We all love our city if not quite its weather,
But when will we get a full summer ever?
The temperatures drop but the smiles ain’t gone,
We’re grateful for one day when it has shone,
Just one burning question will always remain,
When will Manchester be sun-kissed again?
Copyright©2011 by Phil Martin
All rights reserved.