The Wicked Witch of the Wych

Here's another set I should have posted last year before the grand ennui set in. You might recall an old dead tree being reshaped in Pearson Park and you might also recall me saying there was another dead tree close by that might be available. Well most of last summer someone was busy with a grinder transforming that tree into a mix of faces and animals.

We happened to be passing this tree and saw the guy at work; he stopped and made some kind of hand gesture indicating "would I like to come up and have a closer look?" So after much struggling ( I have the acrobat skills of a hippopotamus ) I eventually got onto the scaffolding and took a few pictures.

"What did I think this was?" asks the guy, "A clown?" says I  having in mind Punch and Judy. He was not impressed, "No, it's a witch! And why would I put a witch here?" he asked (it was beginning to feel a bit like the Spanish Inquisition) I shrug, "The tree was a Wych Elm!" he says with a gleam in eye ...

Here's the nice guy with grinder and  the skill to make things appear out of the wood, his name is Julian Barnard and his work was for the Trustees of Pearson Park. He was given a brief of “poetic” (Philip Larkin's old lodgings are directly opposite and the toad figure is again another Larkin thing) The piece, which is now finished, has the title Whispering Sweet Nothings.

Harbour Wall

I was going to call this something like 'next stop Hamburg' since if you keep going East over that horizon you'll end up close to that place but then I guess no-one or very few from Hamburg these days thinks 'heh if go that-a-way I'll end up in Bridlington' well at least not for the past seventy five years or so... This was taken in October when by rights it should have been posted then but though the body was willing the spirit was weak ... Besser spät als nie as they might say over yonder ...


The City Daily Photo theme for January was 'Photo of the Year'; it's not too late to go have a look.

Audrey's x 2

Serving battered fried fish and chips must be a lucrative business as Audrey's in Bridlington seems to have doubled in size since I last noticed ...

Warped

If anyone bangs on about intelligent design being the way of the world just ask how the apex of the alleged Deity's plans, the most intelligent species on the planet can be brought low by something 80-120 nanometers in size. And what part that horrid little virion plays in any vast eternal plan? But that's enough theodicy for now. So in case you haven't guessed I've had and still have to some extent a version of influenza: could be the deadly Australian or the ever-so-polite Japanese or the entente filled French well whatever it was it was an absolute bugger. The past week has been one long semi-concious blur spent under a duvet surviving on soup, tea and easy-peel satsumas oh and regular doses of Paracetamol. Grrrrrr.

Today's picture is a reflection I caught at Cottingham station. If, like me, you see a sort of face in this image it's not a sign of warped mentality but of a "well wired brain" according to the Daily Mail. Pareidolia is, it appears, a good thing though I fail to see its place in intelligent design. If you don't see a face, of course, it means you have an even better wired brain, however if you regularly read and take the Daily Mail seriously I can't comment on your wiring ...

Anyhow back to the duvet and a cup of life saving tea ...

The Weekend Reflections are here.

I'm not driving

Rolled up in town late on Friday afternoon about 4pm but could tell something was up as the bus diverted and left us to get off on a side street. The reason was obvious; each street in town was filled with traffic going absolutely nowhere at all. I wonder if you ever played that game as a child where you had to move from place to place without touching the ground? We called it Pirates, you might have called it something else. Anyhow you could play Pirates all round town on the roofs of cars stretching from the river to Beverley Road and all other points west and east. And the reason so many hundreds of vehicles decided to use the centre of town ... someone decided to play with the Myton Bridge and oops, oh dear ... it broke down. Hmmm ...

The picture was taken last year on Spring Bank, another notorious bottle neck. It's a stretch of about one thousand yards and my personal record for rush hour slowness on here is twenty five minutes; that's a little over 1 mile per hour! Even I can walk quicker than that.

Work for idle hands

A while ago the local School of Art and Design teamed up with a bus company "to transform two double-decker buses into modern masterpieces".  Well here's one of those "masterpieces": a bus decorated with the hand prints of folk from the town. The other bus I'm told "features landmark buildings from across Hull and quote from the city's residents" but I can't say I've noticed it.

Small town blues

Hull City Council has had an epiphany; it has discovered what everyone else knew years ago that the town is a desert after 5pm. ( It's hardly the bustling metropolis before then but we'll keep with the story). So what does the Council do to address this? It creates something to look into it ... so a "special scrutiny review" has been set up to describe in full detail what we already know. But I can tell them now with no charge; Hull is not a city, cities never sleep; Hull is an over grown town that needs its eight hours ... so if you'll excuse me I'm off to my bed.

Puffins

Well it's not quite a beautiful mosaic (not even close) but for a public convenience in Bridlington this brickwork doesn't look too bad at all. OK it's a bit clunky but at least they tried, come on ... c'est seulement un pissoir ...

Paragon Plants

On the concourse of Hull's Paragon Station there's this odd thing, a plant stall. It's been there for as long as I can remember and sells an eclectic assortment of greens from cacti and carnivorous plants to pansies and petunias ... oh and pink flamingoes.

O where do we go now but nowhere

The final show, as it were, of the Year of Culture was a series of installations scattered about the town each consisting of several robotic arms that were supposed to move around with lights and sound (I believe the term 'music' may have been used, but it was basically just eerie noise). This junk was titled "Where Do We Go From Here?" and is described as a "thrilling mix of art and technology" ... the blurb continues "...At a time of political uncertainty at home and abroad, it also asks important questions: What kind of place do we want to live in? What role should culture play? Where do we go from here?" There's more (isn't there always?) "Where Do We Go From Here? , is a deliberate provocation designed to get individuals reflecting upon their city’s future. It invites everyone to take part in a timely conversation about art, culture and society." Yada, yada, yada ...

I came upon this very unmoving piece  as they were obviously fixing some kind of fault, so it wasn't working. However later I did cross paths with a different installation that was in full flow; the arms had lights attached and waved about a bit and there was sound to go with. (Gosh, how very sixites I thought, when robots were just coming into the work place and were seen as menacing ... ) An enthusiastic Hull person (there are some, well, at least one) grabbed me by the arm and exclaimed how brilliant and fantastic it all was... I'm afraid I used language that the clergy do not know.

So the Y of C ended not with fireworks, nor yet with a whimper; it just fizzled out possibly from exhaustion or, more likely, boredom... (Officially there was no celebration because (& I paraphrase) "It's not over yet, there's still more to come and, and ,and ..." yeah, yeah, we paid already) The gang of imps, pimps, banjo players and blow-ins from the world of Culture Incorporated responsible for this fest of dreck were all dutifully gonged by Queenie over the New Year and have not been heard of since... And while Hull is still City of Culture for another three years attention will now pass to poor old Coventry. Oh yes! the birth place of Phillip Larkin (damn Hull did him first, still...)... and Lady Godiva and, and, and ... aint culcha fun?

Unbelievable

A couple of Hully things cropped up in the news while I was away. First Hull was declared the second worst town in the UK. The source for this sensational news was a survey by some folk calling themselves LadBible ("Redefining Entertainment & News For a Social Generation", no, me neither!) clearly this is nonsense and caused uproar and upset in the City of Culture as a) Hull is not a crap town but a crap city (there's no shortage of parochial pedants in this place) and b) Hull is definitely the worst place in the UK, coming second is not an option.

The second incredible snippet of news was the estimate of 3.5 million people attending events during the Year of Culture. Given that this came from Hull City Council who could hardly be said to be impartial observers let alone capable of counting over twenty, this figure is open to some doubt. Still even if we take this figure and look at the break down for individual events say the fireworks on New Year's Eve, the Blade, the porcelain poppies and a handful of other shows soaked up well over 3 million visitors (allegedly). But, and here is yet another incredible (or amazing as they called everything last year, if it wasn't amazing it was stunning ...) fact, there were 2000 events put on over the year. I kid you not, 2000! So by the figures of Hull City Council the vast majority of these cultural events must have attracted two men and (perhaps) a dog. 

Now I'm a trusting sort of guy and if a statement is made to effect that nearly one million folk visited the Blade in its seventy day stay in Queen Vic Square I'm not going to do some back-of-a-fag-packet calculation that this means 600 per hour visited the colossal thing, 10 a minute or roughly the normal number of folk crossing the square at any one time... Also I passed under it dozens of times and must, I suppose, have been counted dozens of times... But I don't want to start off the new year in this suspicious mood. Hull City Council are fine and trustworthy folk as trusty as this picture of the Rose Bowl Gardens.

It's been yonks ...

... since I posted anything.

The new year sees Hull and all things Hully still much the same. Be assured you haven't missed anything.

Lifeboats and Water Works

A few yards further along from the Spa is this new-to-me lifeboat station which with its white curves and windows pays a passing homage to the art deco-ish Spa. However a few yards further brings us to this piece that seems to be a relic of Rommel's Atlantikwall, I believe it's something to do with the sewage out fall pipe they were putting in a while back. It does make for a fine vantage point if you clamber up the top of it, and from there, of course, you can't see it; so win-win. 

If you're wondering why the RNLI needed a new station it's because the old one (below) was a) not even close to the beach and b) it was across the road and traffic had to be held up and so on whenever there was a call out.

Huis-clos

Festival House

You know how it is: the neighbours have gotten a bit rowdy and done a bit of damage to your neighbourhood but, well, we've all got to get along together somehow ... so some six years after that party that was WW2 Hull gets round to building something permanent; Hull is so chuffed at building something permanent it puts up a plaque and the building is named after that event that forever dooms Britain: the Festival of Britain. OK enough hype; this easily missed building is the first building they built after the war and Jameson Street must have been a much bigger mess than the recent renovations ( "You don't know you've lived", I believe is the expression our parents would fling at us for being born too late to miss all that bomb damage fun. So sorry Adolph I'll catch it on Yesterday +1). May day 1951 must have been some day for Hull, the rebuild begins. There is that saying if at first you don't succeed try again and fail again, fail better; Hull has been doing that for nigh on seventy years.

Shaves and trims

I have to say if it should ever come about that I can't shave myself (not that I ever do)  or trim my own beard (again only rarely) you can take me out and shoot me. I am, perhaps, not the barber's best friend. Anyhoo this cute little sign aimed at a somewhat younger (and richer) clientèle than myself is on the way home from Hull Fair on Chanterlands Avenue.

Sugar and spice and all things nice

Hull Fair has two parts; the big expensive rides and smaller stalls where you can shoot yourself a prize or hook-a-duck and so on these are all congregated off Walton Street. On Walton Street itself there is a long line of stalls selling food, burgers, Indian take-aways, fish and chips and so on are all there for the taking but there also lots of sweet stalls selling what is essentially sugar  in various disguises. For some reason Margot took a lot pictures of these so here's her view.

Margot dared me to post this. If you want to create a space around yourself in a crowd just take out a doll and photograph it; folk steer clear for some reason, can't think why.

All the fun of the Fair ...

Early October in this town can mean only one thing: Hull Fair. Yes it's that time of year again when the air is filled with the distant rumble of machinery, extremely loud music and the faint aroma of burnt cow meat and onions wafts across from Walton Street. So here's a small selection of shots from the other night. I seem to have left my colours at home so you'll have to use your imagination...

Trinity Market (again)

I mentioned a few days ago that the indoor market was having an expensive make over. Well I finally got round to having a stroll through the place to see what improvements there are since I last posted about this place... The light is certainly different no doubt due to a white instead of dingy cream ceiling and new skylights, all very good; there's a charcoal grey and white theme to the place which may not please everyone but seemed okay to me. The stalls are modern looking and a bit dull and uniform compared to the old ones but you can't have everything. What is sadly still the same is the lack of customers. This place used be a noisy, thronging and crowded place as markets should be; it's been going downhill for fifteen or twenty years. I visited on another day last week at 4.30pm and the place was shuttered and locked up despite the opening times being until 5pm, so I'm not optimistic.

The Press Room (as was)

I took this a few weeks ago and meant to find out a bit more but somehow never did. So now I find it's a fully functioning pop-up restaurant made from scaffolding and boards and a bit open to the elements. Naturally it's only temporary and it's closing on ... well, erm ... yesterday, as it happens ... Ooops!

ATM x 4

I've never heard anyone IRL, as they say, call these ATMs maybe a hole-in-the-wall or cash machine but never ATM. Anyhow all these 800kg money boxes are (like me) still running Windows XP; it's nice to know your money is safe behind the latest technology innit?

"Wenn ich Kultur höre ...

Like any town or city these days the Kulturstadt has its share of homeless and down-on-their-luck folks sheltering in doorways or under the BHS mosaic, always managing to be just out of sight under cardboard or heaps of scruffy bedding. I believe last year these people were being encouraged to volunteer for the year of fun so as not to feel excluded and "be part of the exciting stuff". Judging by my own eyes I don't think that has been too successful. 

The weekend in black and white is here.

Some geese and a couple of manky mallards

I know, I mean, well manky is not a nice word but it seems among British birdwatching folks these beautiful mallard hybrids have been given this disparaging soubriquet, manky mallards. Maybe that says more about the birdwatchers than these individuals.

Manky, moi?

This guy was the size of a goose. Who are you calling manky?

The Tower

I've shown this former cinema before but so long ago that a revisit is almost obligatory. The place has had many uses it is now a night club called Funktion. The domes I've learned (and should have remembered but you know how the memory fades with age) are replacements after the originals were removed illegally in 2003ish. I like this place; its designers seemed to have taken as many architectural ornaments as they could carry and stuck them together in a pleasing fashion.

I've read that it is equally flash inside. You want a sneeky peek inside? Try this from when the place was closed a few years ago.

Stepney Lane

Before Hull got too big for its boots, Stepney was a small hamlet on the road to Beverley close to Sculcoates. I've read that it got its name from the presence of a mounting stone or stepping stone, but you know how the internet is so take that with a large pinch of good old Saxa salt. Stepney Lane runs from Beverley Road down to the Barmston Drain. There's a school and the glorious Bull Inn at the far end and a mix of old terraced housing dating from late 1800s/early 1900 and some more modern stuff dating from the 1980s post slum clearance. It's not exactly a rich area but there were a surprising number of Mercedes, Jaguars and even a Chevrolet parked when I walked down here.

Life's no fun without ...

... City Daily Photo's theme days. This month's is 'Sensual' ...