Déjà vu all over again

I happened upon a train having a shower the other day (as you do) and was wondering how I could lever this image into this blog. I need not have worried.

Back in the glorious sixties and seventies when motorways were being built up and down and across the country somehow Hull missed out. No three lane transportation route thunders into one of the UK's largest ports. The M62 would stop many miles west of the city and a two lane dual carriage way was considered sufficient from that point on. Well it wasn't and it isn't. And the city and port of Hull is still suffering from that short sighted penny pinching attitude. Screech forward to today and the track from Liverpool westward (equivalent to the M62) will be electrified but the Government has decided in its infinite stupidity that the rail line from Hull to Selby will not be electrified. So passengers from London or Liverpool will have to switch trains and go back half a century or more in terms of rail transport. Freight will have to be moved by practically antique, in terms of technology, engines. This is a despicable decision from a Department of Transport that is unfit for purpose, that clearly has nothing but contempt for the city of Hull, that has still not even put in place plans to alleviate the mess it caused back in the seventies. Ah well we are unloved but we have the culture ... and the old push-me-pull-you trains will be clean for the next fifty years of service.

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).