Monday, 1 July 2019

Blue tent blues

What care I for a goose-feather bed
With the sheet turned down so bravely, O! 
For to-night I shall sleep in a cold open field. 
Along with the raggle taggle gypsies O!...

Not quite the cold open field but the tarmac under Myton Bridge can hardly be the most comfortable place in town either. You'll find homeless rough sleepers in many towns in the UK these days I guess. In Hull, at the last count (that I can find)  in autumn last year some 26 people were found to be sleeping out on the  streets, not all by any means in tents like these. Homelessness is a huge problem these days, mostly hidden it has to be said (sofa surfing, staying with parents and so on), rough sleepers being the most visible tip of this societal ice berg if I may use a much clichéd metaphor. This country is said to need three million new homes and it needed them, like, yesterday... At the present rate of building most of the homeless will be long dead and maybe... maybe that's the plan.

Other folk at City Daily Photo will hopefully have happier posts, at this month's Blue themed event

Sunday, 30 June 2019

A road by any other name ...


You know how towns like to honour folk by naming streets after them: so this town has a Larkin Close; an appropriately dull cul-de-sac, Alfred Gelder Street, Jameson Street, and Ferensway , of course; that local turncoat John Hotham from the civil war times gets a road along with Sir Thomas, Lord Fairfax who gets an avenue; there must be dozens more: Raich Carter Way, Blundell's Corner spring to mind as I write... just outside Hull, across the road from me, there's a short avenue named after a guy who wanted to be Lord Glencoe but somehow the connotations of bloody massacre made him change to Lord Strathcona ... so, anyway,  the other year they decided to rename Garrison Road as Roger Millward Way. I'm not sure that this is any kind of honour since Garrison Road as was is really just an extension of the dreaded A63/Castle Street, the bane of motorists' lives and a right pain in the nethers to cross at times... and I wonder how many even know about this or whether the name will catch on ... when they finally get home, will the motorists of this fair town put their feet up, wrap their hands round a well deserved hot brew and say "oh that *beeeep* traffic on Roger Millward Way was such a *beeeep* disgrace" ... nah not going to happen, ever.
I won't pretend to know anything about who or what Roger Millward was, some sporty bloke, so I've heard,  rugby league, really, really not my scene ...

I mentioned today and several times before that this road is  a pain to cross and that young men have been seen to turn into grey beard loons waiting, funeral directors have been spotted lurking for falling stock ... well some concerned person has put up a plaque to let the world know that those who wait may be gone but are not forgotten, not lost just gone before ...


Saturday, 29 June 2019

It's a kind of madness


I suppose my favourite view of Hull is one where I can't see it all, out across the Humber, where sky and Lincolnshire and water meet as some baldy bloke once wrote so many years ago. I was gazing across the wondrous brown ooze the other day when I spied out to the east something on the horizon that was new to me, so pushing the camera's zoomy potential to the limit I took a picture with no hope of it showing anything much. When I got home and looked at the hazy image above I thought what on earth is that ... turns out it's the biomass storage silos at Immingham docks some nine miles away as the seagull flies. It's all part of the current vogue for saving the world by  burning trees to make electricity. Instead of digging up coal from under the ground in Yorkshire (like they did for centuries) they now import wood (9 million tons per year) from across the world (America and China) in very large oil burning ships that dock at Immingham, discharge their biomass into these silos from whence it's taken by oil burning train to the Drax power station, in Yorkshire. I'm sure this salves the conscience of those who worry about the amount of atmospheric CO2 produced by mankind (estimated at ~5%) compared to that produced by "nature" (~95%). I'm also sure they do not worry that burning wood makes more CO2 per KW of electricity generated (50-85% more than coal and nearly 300% more than gas!) as wood burns less efficiently than coal (which is why our ancestors went to the trouble of digging out coal in the first place). Acres of forest are chopped down daily to turn on the lights in Yorkshire and hereabouts; it takes a mere fifty years for it to regrow. I've read that  4,600 square miles of forest are needed for this one power station alone, I find that an absolutely staggering figure if true. Chopping down young trees grown for this madness seemingly releases lots of  CO2 from the forest which takes years to be reabsorbed by new growth, so harvesting biomass process actually increases atmospheric CO2
This is , of course, not cheap, it is much more expensive to produce sparks this way than by traditional coal burning so we find biomass burning plants are closing all across the world, they simply can't compete. However Government policy (made law this week without any discussion or vote in Parliament but simply by ministerial decree, so much for democracy) is to increase the price of energy for everyone, sorry,  I should say to reduce emissions and make the UK Carbon neutral by 2050 (whatever that means) ...  It is obvious that burning biomass is far from being a sustainable, renewable, "carbon neutral" process . But there you go; the greeny squeaky wokey folk and HM Government will have it that there is a problem with our atmosphere and that this is a solution; they are, of course, all completely mad.

Friday, 28 June 2019

Holy Mackerel


It's been a while since I posted anything piscine related to the Hull Fish Trail. To rectify that omission and as it's Friday here's part of a small shoal of mackerel lurking for a passing sprat no doubt. You can find them at the eastern end of Holy Trinity church where Lowgate turns imperceptibly into Market Place. They're carved out of sandstone and have been in the pavement and walked over by the passing throng since 1992 or thereabouts and are getting a bit worn out and easily missed.


The Weekend in Black and White is here.