
Discovering the meaning behind Manchester's famed symbol
They're on benches, bollards, buildings and bins.
Look up to see them on lampposts. Look down to see them on the footpath.
As I step out of Manchester Cathedral, an impressive sculptural rendition catches my eye. Across the road, there's a mural of them as well — just before a tram glides past, also bearing their image.
The humble insect has been a symbol of the vibrant north-western English city since it was added to the Manchester coat of arms in 1842.
The small details of a destination can offer a glimpse into the true fabric of a society. Hidden in plain sight, they quietly shape the character of a place.
This rings true in the metropolitan city home to nearly three million people.
Manchester embraces the worker bee as a proud emblem of its industrial identity.
Unlike other British cities that made their wealth through royalty or natural resources, Manchester owes its rise to the hardworking nature of its citizens during the industrial revolution.
Even part of Greater Manchester's transport system takes its name from the insect. Next time you visit, keep an eye out for the Bee Network — marked by its distinctive yellow and black buses, trams, cycling routes and walking paths.
It may no longer be Cottonopolis, but you don't have to spend long in Manchester to see it's still a thriving hive of activity.
The streets buzz with the rhythm of daily life. Footsteps echoing between red-brick buildings, the chatter of students spilling out of cafes and cyclists weaving through traffic.
When wandering through the Central Library in St Peter's Square, I couldn't help but notice how its top floor, named the Great Hall, resembles a beehive in library form, with people busily working away at their desks.
Worker bees are solely insignificant but collectively formidable — a fitting symbol for the thousands of factory workers who were cogs in the wheel of the world's first industrial city.
For those curious to learn more about various aspects of Manchester's industrial history, here are four places you can visit.
The National Trust property is one of Britain's greatest industrial heritage sites.
Located in Styl, near Manchester Airport, the beautifully preserved cotton mill was one of the first water-propelled spinning mills to be built during the early years of the Industrial Revolution, in 1784.
Owned by the Greg family and home to hundreds of mill workers and child apprentices, Quarry Bank quickly became one of the largest cotton manufacturing businesses in the world.
You can explore inside the mill and watch its machinery in action. It's rather noisy in there but a fascinating experience nonetheless. The Quarry Bank House, once home to owners Hannah and Samuel Greg, is also worth a visit.
There's also the Styl village, the Apprentice House (where child workers lived), the gardens and woodland estate to explore.
Opening times vary between attractions.
nationaltrust.org.uk
The Oxford Road museum is part of the University of Manchester, and it has a dedicated textiles gallery connecting art and early industrial links. It's home to 20,000 textiles from around the globe, ranging from the third century AD to the present.
Textiles play a massive part in Manchester's industrial history given its status as the international centre of the cotton and textile trade in the 19th century. The city was nicknamed 'Cottonopolis' for its more than 100 cotton mills producing an astounding amount of cloth. Between 1800 and 1860, Britain's cotton exports reportedly rose from £5.4 million ($11.2m) to £46.8 million ($97m) as the country produced almost half the world's total output of cotton.
Whitworth is open Tuesday to Sunday, 10am-5pm, and on Thursdays until 9pm.
Whitworthcollections.manchester.ac.uk
For those interested in Manchester's contribution to the development of science, technology and industry, visiting the Science and Industry Museum is a must. It showcases just how pivotal the city was in the wider Industrial Revolution.
Its Textiles Gallery has an array of historic machinery used in cotton mills in England's north-west. The museum often hosts demonstrations to tell the story of how cotton was transformed from its raw form into finished cloth.
Though they came after the Industrial Revolution, two interesting objects in the museum's Manchester Revolution exhibition are worth checking out.
The first is a small-scale experimental machine affectionately known as the 'Manchester Baby'. Built in 1948 at the University of Manchester, it was the first computer to store and run a program from memory — the basis for billions of computers today.
The second is a Rolls-Royce made in 1905 which was one of the first Rolls-Royce motorcars ever built. The now internationally renowned company originated in Manchester.
Open daily from 10am to 5pm.
scienceandindustrymuseum.org.uk
Last but not least is the Museum of Transport, Greater Manchester. In a historic 1901 tram shed and 1930s bus garage, the museum showcases a fascinating insight into how public transport evolved alongside industrial growth, with more than 70 vintage vehicles to see, from horse-drawn carriages to early buses and trams. There's also a tearoom and gift shop on-site.
Open Wednesdays and weekends, 10am to 4.30pm.
motgm.uk
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The Age
a day ago
- The Age
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Sydney Morning Herald
3 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Those left behind: The long shadow of Britain's nuclear testing in WA
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On a recent expedition up to the Montebello archipelago, 80 kilometres offshore from Onslow, the trio gathered documentary and archival material while filling gaps in their own family histories. For Grace and Goodwin, the most poignant moment was when they stood on the tarmac at Onslow airport in the exact spot where his grandfather and her father posed for a photograph with No 86 Transport Wing Detachment RAAF, to commemorate the successful test of Britain's first ever nuclear bomb detonation on October 3, 1952. 'My grandfather Flight Lieutenant Ron Grace is seventh from left back row, and Maxine's father Leading Aircraftman [later Sergeant] Max Ward is third from left front row,' says Grace. 'They performed what they called 'coastal monitoring sorties' after testing, but that was code for looking for fallout – the British had promised that no fallout would reach the mainland.' Grace's grandfather wrote later: 'As pilot of the aircraft, I would have been the most exposed crew member, being shielded only by the Perspex of the front and side windows. The navigator, radio operator and Mr Hale being in the body of the aircraft had, presumably, more protection. 'Further to the above, after leaving the atomic cloud, we spent approximately two more hours in a radioactive airplane (as proved by the Geiger-Counter check) during the return to Onslow, landing, parking and shut-down.' Maxine Goodwin's father died of lymphatic cancer aged 49, when she was 16. 'He would have been servicing contaminated aircraft, so my mother and I do believe his illness was the result of his participation in the nuclear tests,' she says. 'When Paul and I looked across at the original runway where the Dakota planes would have been taking off and landing, I could visualise the busy scene from that time, and it was very emotional.' 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'It means stuff that they planted around the place to see whether it could withstand a nuclear blast, like World War II-era bomb shelters constructed out of corrugated iron and sandbags.' Another relic is the metal framework of the command centre on Hermite Island, which Grace, Goodwin and Blinko visited. 'It's where the scientists triggered all three bombs,' says Grace. 'It's on top of a hill with an extraordinary view over the entire island group, the only site during the tests that was still manned but evacuated afterwards.' The nuclear fallout was not limited to those servicemen involved. Still affected 70 years later are large tracts of land and seabed across the Montebello archipelago. New research into plutonium levels in sediment on some islands have found elevated levels up to 4500 times greater than other parts of the WA coastline. The research by Edith Cowan University, released in June, was supported by the Australian Radiation Protection and Nuclear Safety Agency. Visitors are urged to spend no more than an hour on some islands. Grace says the Montebello story is a cautionary tale of Australia's over-eagerness to host Britain's nuclear test series, and of UK authorities' lack of safety and casual attitude toward radioactive drift. 'It forces you to question the wisdom of tying Australia's defence to powerful allies, especially in the context of the current debate over AUKUS, where the benefits are vague and shifting and the costs will only become clear decades in the future,' she says.

The Age
3 days ago
- The Age
Those left behind: The long shadow of Britain's nuclear testing in WA
A son, a daughter and a grandson of Australian servicemen exposed to nuclear testing have made an emotional pilgrimage up to the remote Montebello Islands to capture details of an era with – literally and metaphorically – enduring fallout. Paul Grace, Maxine Goodwin and Gary Blinco recently stood together in the ruins of a bomb command centre overlooking the scene of three British nuclear tests in the 1950s that few younger Australians have ever heard of. As the world commemorates Japan's wartime nuclear blasts in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the trio say Australians should not forget the impact of atomic tests conducted on West Australian soil in the 1950s, starting with Operation Hurricane in 1952 and followed by two more tests in Operation Mosaic in 1956. Other atomic tests at Emu Field and Maralinga bookended the Montebello series. Grace, Goodwin and Blinco all know the tests left a family legacy of death or ill-health – and lingering contamination 70 years later on several islands. On a recent expedition up to the Montebello archipelago, 80 kilometres offshore from Onslow, the trio gathered documentary and archival material while filling gaps in their own family histories. For Grace and Goodwin, the most poignant moment was when they stood on the tarmac at Onslow airport in the exact spot where his grandfather and her father posed for a photograph with No 86 Transport Wing Detachment RAAF, to commemorate the successful test of Britain's first ever nuclear bomb detonation on October 3, 1952. 'My grandfather Flight Lieutenant Ron Grace is seventh from left back row, and Maxine's father Leading Aircraftman [later Sergeant] Max Ward is third from left front row,' says Grace. 'They performed what they called 'coastal monitoring sorties' after testing, but that was code for looking for fallout – the British had promised that no fallout would reach the mainland.' Grace's grandfather wrote later: 'As pilot of the aircraft, I would have been the most exposed crew member, being shielded only by the Perspex of the front and side windows. The navigator, radio operator and Mr Hale being in the body of the aircraft had, presumably, more protection. 'Further to the above, after leaving the atomic cloud, we spent approximately two more hours in a radioactive airplane (as proved by the Geiger-Counter check) during the return to Onslow, landing, parking and shut-down.' Maxine Goodwin's father died of lymphatic cancer aged 49, when she was 16. 'He would have been servicing contaminated aircraft, so my mother and I do believe his illness was the result of his participation in the nuclear tests,' she says. 'When Paul and I looked across at the original runway where the Dakota planes would have been taking off and landing, I could visualise the busy scene from that time, and it was very emotional.' Gary Blinco's father Allen made several trips to the Montebello Islands during the test years, working as a navy diver recovering moorings in a lagoon and monitoring radiation levels. 'I knew as a young guy that my father had been there, but I didn't really know what it meant,' he says. 'I had a burning need to connect.' By the time Blinko was able to sit down with his estranged father to discuss it, the older man had been diagnosed with dementia. But he vividly recalled diving on the site of Royal Navy frigate HMS Plym, which had been detonated by one of the explosions; he recalled a depression in the seabed and 'a shiny base'. 'I'm told there was high stress about being a navy diver there,' says his son. 'I was able to swim in the water where my Dad had dived, and I walked on the beach where he guided scientists to do their monitoring. They were fully protected; he was wearing sandals and shorts.' 'The British did a very good job of keeping things under wraps and applying pressure on the Australian government to do the same.' Allen Blinko died of old age, but a 2006 DVA study of Australian participants in British nuclear tests in Australia showed an increase in cancer deaths and cancer incidence (18 per cent and 23 per cent respectively) than would be expected in the general population. 'They tried to explain these figures away, but they are really quite damning,' says Paul Grace, an author whose book Operation Hurricane gives a detailed account of the events and personnel involved in UK nuclear testing in Australia. The three descendants of nuclear veterans describe the Montebello Islands as haunting but beautiful. 'Within the landscape, you've got an incredible number of Cold War artefacts lying around, what the British referred to as 'target response items',' says Grace. 'It means stuff that they planted around the place to see whether it could withstand a nuclear blast, like World War II-era bomb shelters constructed out of corrugated iron and sandbags.' Another relic is the metal framework of the command centre on Hermite Island, which Grace, Goodwin and Blinko visited. 'It's where the scientists triggered all three bombs,' says Grace. 'It's on top of a hill with an extraordinary view over the entire island group, the only site during the tests that was still manned but evacuated afterwards.' The nuclear fallout was not limited to those servicemen involved. Still affected 70 years later are large tracts of land and seabed across the Montebello archipelago. New research into plutonium levels in sediment on some islands have found elevated levels up to 4500 times greater than other parts of the WA coastline. The research by Edith Cowan University, released in June, was supported by the Australian Radiation Protection and Nuclear Safety Agency. Visitors are urged to spend no more than an hour on some islands. Grace says the Montebello story is a cautionary tale of Australia's over-eagerness to host Britain's nuclear test series, and of UK authorities' lack of safety and casual attitude toward radioactive drift. 'It forces you to question the wisdom of tying Australia's defence to powerful allies, especially in the context of the current debate over AUKUS, where the benefits are vague and shifting and the costs will only become clear decades in the future,' she says.