Déjà vu

The Christmas tree is deepest red

Its plastic leaves will ne'er be shed.

I hadn't been into town for over a month so I missed, if that is the word, the seasonal decorations, save for these remaining red trees which had been recycled from past yules, waste not want not. If this post seems familiar that's because exactly two years ago I posted this. 

Grimston and Jarratt

Grimston Street, Hull

Homœopathy is, like so many things, complete tosh, often dangerous tosh at that, but that doesn't stop the gullible from meeting the duplicitous and both parties 'benefiting' from the encounter. As I understand it the more dilute the dose the more powerful it is, so the oceans must be one hell of a potent source of well being which I suppose explains that ancient joke about homœopaths who drown dying of an overdose. This old fading (but growing stronger with every dilution) sign points to a building around the corner, you want to know what that building looks like don't you? Sure you do ... ever seen a bow-window like that before?

Jarratt Street, Hull

The observant or still living amongst you might remember this sign next to it.

PS. now I read the sign with more care and attention I see that it refers to Princes House, and the dentists is called Princes Denture Repair, well I should try to wake up in the morning and put one and one together... 

Slow Zone

George Street, Hull

For those motorists who have difficulty understanding numbers, and that would seem to be the  majority, the authorities have posted a helpful idiot's guide to indicate the sort of crawling speed they would appreciate on the town's roads. 

Look your last on all things not so lovely

High rise buildings were seen as an answer to a lack of space in inner cities, you couldn't build out so you built up. Strange then that when Hull spread out into the fields and countryside surrounding it in the 1960's building hundreds of Council houses in the fancifully named Orchard Park Estate, it also built several high rise blocks despite there being no lack of space. OPE, as it is tagged by local grafittistas, was designed along the lines of Radburn, New Jersey, a garden city 'planned for the motor age'. Well what might have worked in 1930's NJ didn't quite workout in East Yorkshire. One suspects the crossing of palms with silver may have happened as it did in other slum clearances and redevelopments in other towns across the country at the time. Anyhow a high rise with a country view turned out to be no more popular than a high rise with a view of the back of Paragon Station. Nor did it lead to a community-in-the-air rather a dystopian anti-social nightmare with the usual mix of high unemployment (currently 27%), vandalism, drugs and crime. So to cut a long and sadly predictable story short these towers are being removed either by explosion or gobbled up by a giant building eating machine. This one, Highcourt, is the last one standing and it too should be gone soon with a bang so I'm told. 

Meanwhile in another part of town I read that 5,402 new homes are set to be built in Hull in the next five years. I love the exactness of the figure and the vagueness of the phrase "set to be built". Maybe the palms haven't as yet been crossed with enough silver ...

Upon this blasted heath ...

Well hardly, this is the well grazed almost manicured common land that is Beverley Westwood and much of what you see here is a golf curse. This was taken sometime ago so it's a good bet that that wreck of a tree is no longer there especially as it was being used as a swing by the locals. Far away, off on the horizon you can just make out (with a magnifying lens) the old black mill.

The things you used to see

It's a shame that the old local custom of placing a large pig in your window for good luck and prosperity is no longer as commonly observed as it once was. It's been a while since I've seen an example of this and this photo dates back a good five years or so. Perhaps the city of culture will see a revival of this quaint practice.

Ocean Seeker

Maybe it's just me but watching ships carry out intricate manoeuvres in a fast flowing current attempting to get into a narrow dock gate there always the vague wish, no that's too strong a word, idea maybe, lurking at the back of your mind they might, I don't know, overshoot or run into the bank or some such. There's probably a word for it: schadenfreude infantilis or some such.  Thankfully it never happens, at least not while I'm standing there taking pictures. This survey ship made its stately way up stream then halted and performed a very smooth almost balletic right-angled turn to enter Albert Dock. No bumps, no scrapes, no fun at all.

The Weekend in Black and White continues here.