Spend your week elbow‑deep in sludge traps and landlord voicemail, you start needing something that isn’t a combi boiler. These are the places I slope off to when the tools are back in the van: white walls, odd objects, the odd masterpiece, and a decent brew nearby if you’re lucky. Nothing fancy, just the galleries around Manchester that have actually got me to stop thinking about leaking valves for an hour or two.