Christmas, the time of year when all that is magical immerses itself into our everyday lives, making even the grey streets of Manchester sparkle with festive spirit.
The streets are awash with linked chalets cooking up the best in Christmas-European munch combo to fill your stomach/boots with, fuelling your yuletide countdown with sweets, cheeses and hog-roasts that could’ve been made by the elves themselves.
With a rather active imagination and plenty of mulled wine sloshing about in my head, the rather large Father Christmas perched a-top the Town Hall is practically as good as the real thing when you’re merrily skipping from stall to stall under the lights of a million fairies/the trees decked in twinkly fairy-lights.
The Christmas Market takes over Manchester for most of November and all of December, feeding the hungry souls in the chilly northern climes til we can handle no more and must hitch up our skirts, carrying home the plunder gathered to consume in the comfort of our own often less than cosy homes.
