It's da Green Manalishi with the two prong crown

The relentless principle of monetising every inch of space has reared its ugly head again in the aspirant city of culture. On what was an open area with seating there has now been plonked, a big glass box with a ridiculous double-projecting roof. The purpose of this structure is the sale of warm water infused with the dust of the beans of the coffee plant. Yup, yet another coffee shop.

Grey Days Ahead

Melancholy and utopia are heads and tails of the same coin.

Günter Grass

 

The time has come, I think, to withdraw into my shell and let the flood of the world's insanity pass over me. I may be some time ...

 

The weekend in black and whiter is here

On Newland Avenue the poppies blow ...

It will not surprise you to learn I'm not one for poppy wearing or remembering past wars and all the dead and all that business. My old grandad  joined up to fight in the first European madness; he fancied wearing a kilt so he and his brother joined a Scottish regiment just for that reason! His brother didn't come back. (let's hope insanity does get passed on) Any hoo he would say he had no time for the sycophantic Royal British Legion and their revelling in the horrors of the Somme and so on. So what was good enough for old Joe is good enough for me. Strikes me that every year there's more and more of this enforced, dare I say phoney,  'remembrance' of past hostilities (for example, everyone on TV has to wear a poppy or face obloquy from the self-appointed arbiters of public decency) when a bit, nay, a large dollop of forgetfulness might be in order. Enough of this dwelling on the past.

What we have here is part of a grandly insane scheme by a local lady to knit or crochet over 3000 woollen poppies and plant them in all the flower boxes on Newland Avenue. I suppose it's impressive if that's the sort of thing that impresses you. With the inevitability of the sun rising in the morning some toe rag stole a set of poppies. Go take up your quarrel with the foe ...

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.

All Gone A Bit Pete Tong

I thought on this day a wonky reflection of the statue of liberty might be apposite.

A year where things happen that weren't supposed to happen has topped itself out nicely with the election, as President, of Mr Trump in the good old US of A. Democracy does have a tendency to demock, as it were, and this year has been a doozy for the 'baskets of deplorables' turning over the old certainties. (Politics 101 never, ever insult the voters, they may be hoopleheads but you keep that to yourself). Which is, I suppose why  we have these little things called elections. And the world is still spinning ... if a bit wobbly.

Skidby Mill

Rootling around my old photos for something to post I came across this one of Skidby Mill. It seems I took this a mere eleven years ago. The old mill I'm guessing will still look much the same which is more than can be said about myself or indeed the original post. In the six years since I first posted all the links have been changed or lost, such is the impermanence of all things digital. So if you've a hankering to know more about this place then go here or here (but don't wait too long).

Sutton Road Selection

In Hull if you're out when the postman tries to deliver a package then it's sent to the Malmo Road sorting office and you can either have it redelivered on another day or you can go pick it up yourself. So it was that, with nothing better to do last week, we found ourselves on a number 7 bus heading towards the untold delights of Sutton Road and thereabouts. The place we had to go to was on a small industrial estate where the roads are all Scandinavian cities, Copenhagen, Oslo, Stockholm and so on; there's even a Narvick Road ( ? ). Even with such fine names however an industrial estate is, I'm afraid, just an industrial estate and fairly dull at that. Best bit the was bridge leading back home ... 

Margot had the camera, I just went along for the ride.