Pendleton Police Station

Well, I can’t say I found myself here in the nicest of circumstances. No I did not get dragged here by the police, shame on you for even considering that, I’ve never been in trouble with the police in my life. No, a housemate of mine in the past was having issues with some… unwanted attention, let’s put it as lightly as possible, and I accompanied her here so that she could file a report.
It’s hard to take the place seriously. From the outside it looks like where Noddy would live crossed with a shopping mall designed by Crayola. It’s completely ridiculous. It doesn’t help that it’s located right next to a block of student flats and Salford Shopping City (city? CENTRE), although that did make me feel a bit safer when I lived at the former and shopped at the latter.
But upon entry we were made to wait. A lot. I understand this, it works the same with hospitals. In fact it was the people in the waiting room that made the experience. My poor housemate had to report the nature of her visit in public, at the reception desk, and of course as she described it she burst into tears. Cold, hard receptionist-​who-​sees-​this-​every-​day just mindlessly jotted everything down while I did that endless back-​rubbing people do to crying people.
And then a lady in the waiting room handed my friend some tissues. Aw. She might have been in there for kicking babies like footballs, but hey, at least she was nice. Sensitive.
Needless to say the experience was a washout. We didn’t get to speak to a real police person, however it did eventually come to light that the culprit had been taken in for interview at some point, so at least filing the report had some kind of outcome. All I remember was taking my housemate to the nearby Tesco to grab some curry and then eating it at my apartment along with shedloads of ice cream to make her feel better. Rubbish and overly large police station, nil points. Ace friend that I am, million points.