Market Street

You could tell me it’s shameful for a Mancunian like me to dislike the absolute central hub of our city. But I’m sorry. When I actively take the long way round to avoid traversing this area, that tells you just about everything you need to know.
Any longtime Unilocaler will tell you that over time, one becomes disillusioned with certain chain shops and restaurants, and I myself reached that point in my life some time ago. I will literally only walk across this street to meet someone, take a shortcut, grab easy access to the Arndale Food Market (I include the Arndale Centre itself, not the lovely market part but that vast soulless hell of a mall in this review) or visit Urban Outfitters or All Saints. Or do my grocery shopping at Tesco/​Aldi.
Otherwise it’s lined head to toe with Starbuckses, Neros, department stores like BHS and Debenhams, and the kinds of clothes shops that I’ll happily visit in my native Fuerteventura as they tend to be ghost towns, but over here during sale period you’re likely to suffer head trauma through being knocked down by an overzealous woman using her child’s pram as a weapon.
If you’re to brave this street, you need to adopt the duck and weave tactic. Fast and flawless. You might clip the odd person round the head with your shopping bag, but casualties happen in combat. Otherwise you’ll be asked to donate money to seven different charities (disclaimer: Emma-​Louise H loves charities, she leaves coins in any available bucket, but she shall not be chugged. Chugged, that’s charity-​mugged), bump into some guy telling us all we’re going to the fiery depths of Hell for watching X Factor, trip over a busking musician or that poor dude who thinks he’s a breakdancer (he should have been back in the care home months ago, where are his grandchildren?!?), gawk at the world’s worst statue people (any illusion was shattered when I saw that idiot sat on his upside down bucket smoking a cigarette), find yourself stuffed full of leaflets for half price tapas or a free shot of goop at some horrendous nightclub… or all of the above.
Market Street is like the opposite of an anti-​depressant. It’s instant PMT in a nauseating wave. My mood instantly sours, my pace quickens remarkably and I find myself sympathising with mass murderers. Not good for me. Not good for society. If you want to see the real Manchester, avoid this central artery at all costs!

Think Manchester shopping and recreation and think Market Street, no actually just think shopping and food!
Starting with the massive Primark block, Miss Selfridges, Mango, H&M, Schuh, Debenhams, Topman, Blue Inc, All Saints, Urban Outfitters and all the others I may have missed.
And then, there’s the massive Arndale which stores double of what’s outside! This street is always busy, especially weekends, you can’t walk without having shouldered at least 5 – 6 people! It’s in the middle of two stations namely, Victoria and Piccadilly and crowded with everything from clothes to phone stores to music and food.
Many a times there are performers adding to the vibrancy of this place and the nice live music on the streets, is something that livens any place up! It’s a great add and I really thing most of the people playing this way on the streets are majorly talented and should be on album covers!
All in all, its the place where Mancunian people come and go home with defnitely lighter pockets and heavy bags, but mostly always a smile swept across their tired faces.

Main high streeeetttt ARRRRRGGGHHHHHHHHHHH as a city centre resident this may as well be the gates to hell. Lots and lots of crap to buy here from the wank contents of the arndale centre to the fowl food halls and big chains everywhere you go. Watch out for the 500 hundred strong army of people trying to get you to fill things in, sign things and give them money.
The crowds have an amazing ability to zap every bit of energy and happiness from you with their depressing gloom that looms around them. Love struggling to move in a packed out street? Then visit here. It gets extra special on a Saturday afternoon when every homo sapien within a 50 mile radius decides to infest it. I can’t take it for more than about 35 seconds.