Manchester pride photography, post-lockdown.

Lockdown affected everybody differently. For an old friend of mine, it meant getting in touch and starting a mini support group. The idea being, we could check in with each other whilst times were uncertain. There’s no denying my appreciation for such a considerate, heartfelt gesture. I made sure to not take advantage of the free mental health care I was offered. Ensuring to reciprocate and keep a check on my boys. Times were tough on everybody, and it’s something we were aware of. Once the fog of potentially dying from pneumonia or poverty slowly faded away, and bars started serving beers, we attempted to meet up and do what we do best: Drink beers and be stupid.

After being a hermit for such a long time, the social butterfly of the group came up with a million excuses as to why he couldn’t turn up on time, (it was our fault). My friend who set up the group in a moment of selflessness however did come out for some drinks. I’m no Elton John but when I’m with friends, I always consider myself a good host. If people are coming to my flat, I’ll grab some food to share, I’ll make sure the fridge has some beers in. When I’m out with people I know, I’ll always offer to buy drinks. It’s important to not just share your woes with your comrades, but to share your victories.

Writing this post

I’ve sat on this post for a while, because whilst the night itself was great, looking back at the following abandonment is painful. I paid for virtually everything except a train ticket, because I was happy to see my boy. But what followed a few months later was an accusation of selfishness followed by a social-media embargo. The hypocrisy and total lack of self-awareness is disappointing, but not surprising. The horse being ridden was wearing stilts long enough to burst a weather balloon. I could never imagine going to meet a friend and expecting them to pay for everything, unless it was discussed in length first at the very least.

Either way, people are generally shit, and they’ll use you, and they will somehow justify it to themselves.

Lesson learned, I guess.

Oh yeah, Manchester pride photography…

If you want to let loose and look at beautiful, colourful people from a variety of backgrounds. There’s no place better than Manchester’s Pride. Unsurprisingly, tickets are required to enter the gay village during Pride. Being the only person paying for the evening, I wasn’t keen on covering tickets for two people. So in typical Danny fashion, I used my DSLR to sneak in to a place I had no right to be. With my friend holding my LED wand, we looked like official photographers. Stopping people for pictures and talking to the drunk and horny brigade is a personal past time. If you spot somebody you know, send this post on to them.