Airy BnB

The massive influx of visitors to the cultural offerings has led to an extraordinary demand for accommodation. This radical solution offers fine views of Pearson Park and excellent transport facilities.

Lime green and diarrhoea

The Drypool Bridge might have thought that it could escape the attentions of the C of C nonsense but no, it is undergoing repainting and the scheme has something, some tenuous thing, to do with John Venn (he of those damn diagrams). Mr Venn, in case you were unaware had the misfortune to be born in Hull, but possessed enough sense to leave as soon as possible and never come back. Any how riding on the back of the supposed kudos of being the place where he popped out the Culture Loons are taking him hostage as a "Born & Bred in Hull" figure of note. Almost all these B & B in H figures made their names elsewhere but that's a mere detail to the marketing man. (You can buy "Born & Bred in Hull" mugs and T-shirts should you wish but you are far too sensible to do so.)  So with Venn in mind this bridge, I suppose, represents the intersection of the set of bridges needing a coat of paint and the set of bridges in a one horse town taken over by desperate need to gain fame by association. I hope people like the colour scheme, a mixture of lime green and diarrhoea, as it's planned to last for twenty five years.

It's another Hull thing

OK it's one of the things that Hull is noted for: cream coloured phone boxes. I'm sure I've been over this before but briefly for those who don't know the story behind it; when all municipal phone companies were nationalised many years ago Hull Council stood firm and the phone company remained in council hands. So that's why the boxes are this distinctive colour and not red as in the rest of this pleasant land, they also lack a crown coat of arms but that's a detail for geeks. So, as I say, all phone boxes in Hull are this colour except for this one and erm that one and maybe that other one as well.
Anyhow I'm not here to talk about old history. It being the year of culture and Hull just having gone through a massive makeover (yada yada) the now privatised phone company was asked to plonk a load of these boxes around town, often in places, like here in Whitefriargate, where no phone box had ever been. I think they are actually working boxes but no-body uses them as everyone has got a mobile these days and also they're very expensive. Basically they're just there for no good reason other than Hull has cream boxes and you, as a visitor, will damn well see cream boxes. (Gee would you look! A cream phone box! That's got to be way cool!) I believe the word 'iconic' has been applied to them as well, and why not? It's applied to everything else in this cultural town.

The Flensing

Here lies the cold carcass of Holy Trinity Square scraped clean of history, of character, of any interest whatsoever. It's as if an old  familiar face with  laugh lines and creases has been botoxed to oblivion so there is no possibility of a smile. Deathly dull doesn't begin to describe it. Two and a bit years ago I said this would be "a tacky, crass and short sighted act of vandalism"; I've not had reason to change my mind.  A sign on the church door says the place is closed while it is being transformed into a coffee bar and in the Summer there'll be small reflection pools (reflecting the sheer emptiness of the place I suppose). I can't wait.

There's seating and then there's these things as well.

The best seat in town

Tourists are flocking to see the latest city of culture installation on Trinity House Lane. The work, sponsored by a local public house, is constantly added to and occasionally subtracted from but will remain a feature in the city through out the year. I think it's a strong statement of the conflict between high ideals and base reality. I highly recommend it.

Hull says NO! So Trump Won't Go!

Here in the dark of a January evening a collection of banner wavers, delusional socialist wannabes, imps, pimps, banjo players and just plain old fashioned passers-by have collected in Queen Victoria Square to demand that SOMETHING MUST BE DONE about that awful Mr Trump and his evil acts.  There was lots talk of building a socialist alternative and fighting American Imperialism all drawing the appropriate Pavlovian applause response. I hear he keeps a close ear to the ground and worries so much about how well he's doing down on Hessle Road and the Avenues, so this grand demo will greatly irritate his ulcers and boil his piss I've no doubt.

Seriously though Mr Trump  the duly (and newly) elected head of state of a foreign country is getting up everyone's nose at the moment He might be doing something right then, but it's not my circus and not my monkey as they say these days. But it not just American noses, no sir, well it wouldn't be would it? The self-proclaimed liberal luvvies have got to show themselves as "doing" stuff so they hold these little demos sprouting up over the country, all utterly meaningless and just an excuse for the same old tired inane claptrap to be spouted forth. But the irrelevancy doesn't stop at few demos; oh no.  There's currently a petition to Parliament  (that's the UK Parliament by the way just in case, like me, you were wondering what the hell it has got to do with us) with over 1.5 million signatures saying Mr Trump should not be allowed to meet the Queen! Ye Gods! I would have thought that making him meet that wizened old brood mare was a suitable punishment for anyone but no, he must not shake hands (or anything else) with Queenie or the world will end or some such nonsense. Now as this pathetic little country is seeking a trade deal with the good old evil US of A what chance do you think that petition has, hmmm? I expect Brenda will be told to get her knee pads out, moisten her royal lips and grin and bear it.

The New Look

In the bad old days Jameson Street had paving, a few trees, a scattering of seats and a row of street lights. Now, after the expenditure of untold millions, Jameson Street has paving, a few trees, a scattering of seats and a row of street lights. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose as they often say these days in the city of culture.

That was the year that was

The theme for City Daily Photo starts the year Janus fashion by looking back for the 'Photo of the Year'. Out of 236 postings I liked this monochrome effort the most although not particularly strongly. In terms of most viewings, however, the one below was easily the most popular with twice as many hits as the runner-up. Why? I don't know, maybe it was my shameful purloining of the Sea of Hull thing, maybe folks just like a big wide brown river or since most of my viewings are from Russia for some unknown reason maybe Putin is planning to visit this year.

Today is also the start of the City of Culture Year,  there are fireworks tonight on the Humber and a week of light shows in the town centre. I shall endeavour to keep coverage of this to a minimum, there might be something tomorrow and that'll be it for a while. There's more than enough rubbish already out there without me adding to it. If you want more: Google is your friend.

'Ole in the ground, so big and sort o' round it was

After a vote of residents on what they wanted for the remains of the Beverley Gate (aka the Hull Hole) the Council, in its wisdom, decided not to cover up the few old bricks but instead create an even bigger hole with seating and landscaping and so on. Quite how this bigger, better hole won't end up the haunt of disaffected young folks and who will pick up the litter that will inevitably fall in I don't know. Still I'd better not make too many adverse comments or I might end up like the poor chap in this cautionary tale; enjoy:

Nice mural, shame about the building

They say if you stare this mural for long enough (in my case over thirty years on and off) you can see 'Hull' spelled out by the masts and rigging of the boats. I wouldn't worry if you don't see it.

This is the now empty BHS store and I've shown it before in better times. I'm showing it now because there's a bit of a storm in a teacup brewing over getting the mural some protection from removal or demolition and so on. The powers that be have said that the 1960's work by Alan Boyson "does not reach the standard for listing compared to other examples". There's another mural inside, which I don't remember ever seeing, and that too was not listed. This decision has not met with universal approval and a petition has been set up to get the Council to do something about it. (You can sign it here should you wish.) It's not difficult to discern the dark arts being employed here. If this does get listed then that building will be damn difficult to demolish without a lot of expense and I think that building really should come down if only to subtract one ugly thing from the planet. So I signed the petition; to lose the mural would be like losing an old friend, but I'll sign one to remove the building as well if anyone were to put one up. Go figure.

Keep Britian Tidy

Oh yes, it's a reminder to keep the the place tidy and well they can't even spell their own country right ... they meant well I suppose.

Margot spotted this delight.

Friendly Crow

Have I mentioned before that I think crows are a bit special? This one simply would not budge until I took its picture, so what was I to do?

Meanwhile in another part of town (and on a different planet perhaps) there were complaints that crows on Holderness Road were getting too bold and "intimidating" people because (and now we reach new heights of fantasy) the local McDs was closed for a refurb! "Crows on the rampage in Hull because they can't get their McDonald's fix" ran the headline. For heaven's sake! Are the folk of East Hull who survived the Blitz without so much as a whimper suddenly afraid of a few feathered friends? Two crows were seen pecking at a dead pigeon which it was claimed they had killed! Something must be done about it! Well no, something must not be done about it. "Carrion Crows Eat Carrion" wouldn't really make much of a story but in the febrile imagination of a local journo it's practically Hitchcockian out on Holdy Road. Just to be absolutely clear on this, crows clear up the mess made by people; it's either them or rats, you make your choice.

The weekend in black and white is here.

Spells of moths

I did promise not to go hunting for these commemorative glass fibre moths but it seems there's swarms of the little bleeders so you can't really avoid them. Each of these monsters is sponsored by some firm or other, the one below by a firm of solicitors and the blingy beast above by the kind folk who brought us all the orange barriers. So praises or brickbats are due to them. If you are at a complete loss as to why these moths are even here at all (and I do sympathise) then it's all explained here.

Left behind

Even the litter has a certain sculptural quality to it here in the City of Culture ...

The weekend in black and white is here.

Pleased as Punch

Here's a detail from the ornate exterior of the Punch Hotel on Queen Victoria Square. As the lord of misrule this figure has no doubt been observing the ongoing utter chaos of  the renovation of the town centre with some glee. That's the way to do it!

Paint it black

You might think that being in the unfortunate position of having to board up a window to protect it from hoopleheads and gopniki that you had done enough to safeguard your property. You might think that but you would be making the rookie mistake of forgetting the petty pen pushers who work for the Council's Environmental Crime Unit (a group of mendacious ninnies who pick on the poorest and ignore the rich, t'was ever thus). They will sooner or later come upon your works and inform you that this is far from adequate; you must "Paint it black" or face an enforcement order so to do! Yes a good lick of black gloss it seems is the sine qua non of window protection.

The weekend in black and white is here.

Wellington Street Bridge

This little swing bridge allows you to nip across the entrance to the marina without having to go over the dock gates. For some reason, probably economic, it is often closed (that is open for boats but closed for foot soldiers, you understand) but I guess with the thousands attending the Humber Street Sesh cacophothon on Saturday it was deemed safer to allows folk to cross this way. (But this photo shows I was wrong to think so; this event seals off public streets and charges people to exercise the freedom to pass along the highway. It is in plain words highway robbery! with noise!)
The bridge would have had rail tracks on it originally as part of the Humber Dock rail system. 

There, now you've seen it from both sides, aren't you lucky!.

Sign of things to come

I'm sure there will be much worse things than this pathetic pun as the detestable City of Culture waddles into town with its own sense of self importance. ("If I don't like it why don't I go somewhere else?" What? And miss all the crap?) Meanwhile you'll be aware of the need to fix the crappy big road that runs through this dump; the date for that has been put back yet again ... 'til 2022. Now I'll give them credit for saying that date will not be coming forward but might (ie definitely will ) go backward even further. Still we have culture (it may be a crap culture but it's Hull's very own crap culture, so we're told), a new Government (it may be a crap government but it's our very own crap Government, so we're told), a way out of Europe's crappy clutches (ha ha ha watch this space, this may be the funniest thing yet ) and we should be grateful for small mercies ... yes I'm having a crappy day.

The Real Sea of Hull

It's been estimated that over 63,400 tonnes of sediment are deposited in the Humber every year. These range from gravels and sand through to fine clays and it these clays that give the Humber its characteristic brown soup appearance. Now a talentless American attention seeking photographer, on a commission from the fools and knaves who run the Ferens, wanted people to strip naked, be painted as the colours of the sea and spread themselves on the streets of the town. I suppose a wall of shitty brown humanity pouring down Alfred Gelder Street would have been such a drag and something of a public relations disaster. No wonder then that green-blue was the chosen colour. But when the North Sea eventually does flow down the streets of Hull (as it will, again) I doubt it will be turquoise or stop to pose for photographs.  'Humankind cannot bear very much reality' as someone other American once said.