Son and sun in Manchester

I've travelled from a rural setting to an urban one on the next stage of my brief peregrination, to spend a couple of days with Huw in Manchester, which great city I am ashamed to say I have never before visited. No sooner had I alighted from the train than we were in Chinatown to buy ingredients for supper and snack on some unusual cakes and pastries with yam- and melon-flavoured bubble tea.
Huw and his housemate have furnished their home almost entirely from found objects. This includes both interior and exterior decor since their little back yard is stuffed with an array of chairs, tables, mirrors, toys, artificial flowers, a brick barbecue, a run (creep?) for the tortoise, basil growing in a lavatory pan and two very small ponies. Most of these treasures they have simply rescued, discarded,  from  neighbouring alleys or else salvaged from charity shops. In the kitchen shelves are filled with pickles, cultures and ferments of varying degrees of success.  Over supper there was discussion of growing mushrooms on coffee grounds and of keeping quails in the yard.  Our throwaway society is a rich hunting ground for those resourceful enough to harvest the urban jungle.