Stands the church clock at ten to three?

The English the English the English are best

I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest

Here's the flag of St George, Macedonian slayer of dragons and patron, so it seems, to half the countries of Europe and elsewhere (many Muslims around Bethlehem also celebrate his feast day). I can't admit to feeling any stirrings of patriotic fervour at the sight of this rag so you'll not be surprised that I'm not inspired by suggestions that today, St George's Day, be made an English National Day. There is, of course, no need for such a day celebrating all things English, as it is well known, for the true Englishman (not me, I'm a cad and probably a bounder as well), every day is a celebration of his God given superiority.

It's not that they're wicked or naturally bad

It's just that they're foreign that makes them so mad

The English are all that a nation should be

And the pride of the English are Chipper and me

(Flanders & Swan)

Today is also the birthday and deathday (is there such a word?) of that well known English playwright William Shakespeare whose famous last words were almost certainly not "It's my birthday and I'll die if I want to".

The good folk at City Daily Photo are having a St George's Day theme, perhaps they took it more seriously than me, I do hope not. Any way you can find what others made of this here.

Underneath the arches

Here's the underside of Myton bridge; with its numerous columns it could be some latter day  temple dedicated, no doubt, to Hermes. I like this place but not enough to make it my home. Carefully placed between the heaps of pigeon guano someone has set up a bed.

History of a museum

This imposing building on High Street now houses the Hull and East Riding Museum. It was originally the Customs House then in 1856 it became the Corn Exchange (not to be confused with Ye Olde Corn Exchange) before becoming a Museum of Commerce and Transport in 1923. Following WW2 when it was damaged by bombing it reopened as a Museum of Transport and Archaeology in 1957. It was renamed the Hull and East Riding Museum in 1983. 

Due to the narrowness of the street I couldn't get a full shot of the facade but if you click here you'll get an early drawing of the building.

The doorway still has the signs of the corn merchants and traders who worked from this building.

Old and newish and still to come

Here's another view from the site of the proposed 18 storey hotel (see yesterday) featuring Holy Trinity's tower and a 60/70s multi-storey car park It's not much of a view to boast about I agree but I think it's better than an oversized "fag packet" .

You can find more monochrome fun at the Weekend in Black and White here.

Permission denied

Well I've got say I'm surprised. That 18 storey hotel that was planned for High Street has just been refused planning permission by Hull City Council. One councillor even went so far as to forget the rules about stating the obvious and described the proposed building as looking like a "fag packet". The developer is needless to say less than happy having had an even bigger and uglier building granted permission earlier. I reckon my prediction for something much, much smaller is looking good.

Here's the site complete with rubble heap and crow.

Some kind soul handily removed a fence panel for me to take these photos.

Any day now ....

I've heard rumours, nothing more than whispers, that the new swing bridge will almost certainly definitely maybe perhaps open this very month or even sooner. You heard it here first.

" ... into the dustbin of history"

It's been a strange old week since the death of Thatcher. Whole forests have been chopped down to provide  for the yards and yards of utter tosh spewing from the presses along with a seemingly never ending televisual spew wave to wash your senses sideways. Opinions are divided, nay, positively polarised with demands to show respect set against street parties and wild behaviour (mostly by people who weren't even born when "that woman" was PM). We had no less than a whole day of Parliament extolling her virtues; some of it extremely embarrassing, one noble lord commenting that she had "beautiful hands and lovely ankles and she knew how to use them.'"! There were a few exceptions but even they lacked any sincerity. In the real world it is fair to say that most of Wales, Scotland and the North of England shed not a tear at her passing. I know many had celebratory drinks. Tempting then to say that it was a bit like old times when she was in office with her divisive ways. Only then policemen on horseback were beating seven shades out of striking miners; today we have a mass download of the Ding Dong song from the Wizard of Oz. So, maybe, the old man from Trier was right when he said "History repeats ... first as tragedy, then as farce".  

Speaking of farces, today we have a £10 million tax payer funded military funeral to finally dispose of this destroyer of hope and wrecker of lives. Money well spent.