Thanks NIrish-guy for posting the photos of the Alan Turing memorial in Sackville Park, Manchester. I don’t think I was aware of the memorial, despite going to Manchester many times; sadly my last visit to Manchester was in August 2001 for Pride, a year before my cancer diagnosis, hence why I’ve never been back.Originally Posted by Nirish guy
On checking the Internet I noted that the memorial was unveiled on June 23, 2001, it was therefore there during my last visit. But I honestly cannot remember if I saw it or not, probably not, as it was a pretty hectic and, dare I say, hedonistic weekend devoted to watching the parade, shopping, eating out at restaurants, going to pubs and clubs before returning to London very much the worse for wear.
The mention of the Alan Turing memorial reminded me that I fell in love with Manchester back in 1982 when I travelled down from Aberdeen, a posting I was not at all happy with. I went there to attend three, two week training courses at a training centre in Chorlton Street, the street next to Sackville Street in the gay quarter.
My first hotel was not at all convenient as it was some distance from the training centre and involved taking buses (or taxis in the evening). On my second visit, for convenience, I decided to book a hotel closer to the training centre and booked into a nearby gay hotel called, The Rembrandt, on Sackville Street, in the heart of the gay area.
Back in 1982 there were no equal opportunities for homosexuals or anti-gay discrimination policies in the British Civil Service. I was therefore very much in the closet. On our first day, I’d forgotten that the tutors asked the course attendees to say which hotel they were staying at. No comment was made as each attendee mentioned the name and telephone number of their hotel that is until it came to me. When I informed the tutors that I was staying at The Rembrandt Hotel, they expressed surprise and asked if I had noticed anything strange. I felt rather embarrassed (I blushed easily in those days) and said no, I had observed nothing out of the ordinary. Of course, this aroused the interest of my fellow course attendees, which only added to my embarrassment. The tutors said they’d enquire again the next day. On the following day my choice of hotel was still preying on the tutors’ minds and they again asked me if I had noted anything strange. For a second time I advised them that all seemed well, the room and breakfast were perfectly adequate. Naturally the questioning piqued the interest of my fellow classmates and they asked what was wrong with the hotel. In reply, the tutors revealed to the class that I had chosen a gay hotel. I think they said ‘gay’ they may used the word ‘homosexual’, I can’t now remember. To save face, and the possibility of a report being sent back to my managers and it having an adverse affect on my career prospects, I’m sorry to report that I was economical with the actualité and said I was not aware that it was for gay people, I had simply chosen the hotel for its proximity to the training centre. I think the tutors accepted my story and said something like, “Better watch your back then!” to hoots of laughter from my fellow classmates. Thankfully, those days are long gone and such discriminatory behaviour would not now be tolerated in the UK.
But on a more positive note, I enjoyed Manchester gay nightlife immensely and asked our Personnel Division (the forerunner to our Human Resources department) if my transfer to Aberdeen could be changed to Manchester. My request was denied. Over several weeks of submitting lists of possible other cities I’d accept a transfer to and being continually disappointed when my requests were denied, I finally said I would accept a transfer to London – anywhere to get out of Aberdeen! My offer was immediately accepted, mainly because few of my colleagues working outside London wanted the upheaval of moving to London due to the high cost of living, high property prices, the problem of their partners having to find work and the disruption involved in changing schools for their children. I was transferred a few months later in November 1982. Looking back, moving to London was one of the best things that ever happened to me and I never regretted it for one moment. For a gay man, it felt like being a kid in a sweet shop (candy store for US members).
I did however return to Manchester many times in the following years and always stayed at The Rembrandt Hotel.
Apologies for the length of this post and for drifting off topic, but isn’t it strange what memories can be evoked at the mention of certain places or times.
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) my thoughts were "jesus this place is a bit rough" :-) as strangely in the middle of some more upmarket bars on the street it came across as something more akin to a weatherspoons, except except the clientele were a bit rougher and contained quite a few drunken straight people and butch lesbians as I recall 
