From the canteen window

One of the perks of working in Boot's store on Whitefriargate is that the canteen is the banqueting hall of the old Neptune Hotel with a view past the exotic lingerie store and the bank along Parliament Street. 

This is the ceiling, as you might have guessed. Nice though it is I guess a raise in take home pay would be a better perk. 

This room is open on Open Heritage Days in September which is when I took these photos.

Humber Bore

I'm told that every tidal estuary has a bore, that is when the incoming water overcomes the outflowing water and surges upstream. In the UK the Severn bore is particualrly well known with brave souls surfing along it for miles. The Humber then also has a bore (apart from me) it's just not that noticeable near Hull. This is not to say that the tidal wave isn't rushing at great speed (25mph or so past Hull) and some violence up this narrowing inlet and indeed upstream there is, on the Trent, a bore known as the Aegir or Eagre. All these twice daily flows can and do shift sandbanks around causing shippping channels, at least upstream of Hull, to alter course, sometimes overnight. Which leads us to this little boat, the ABP survey vessel Humber Ranger, busy keeping an eye on things at the bottom of the stream and producing up to date navigation charts every two or three months.  

Red Buoy

Now it depends where you are just what you make of this. American (in the broadest continental sense) mariners will recognize this color as denoting the starboard limit of a channel as you approach from the sea. Excercising the true spirit of utter contrariness, in this country and most of the world excluding America navigators recognise this red coloured buoy as showing the port limit of a channel. Now I'm sure you won't forget this as you sail your expensive yachts up the Humber on your way to the city of culture. If, however, you need to look up port and starboard then perhaps the train is your best bet.

Gross Value

Inglemire Lane, Hull

Some time ago I posted an odd picture of trees in nets and mentioned that this was due to impending development of the site. Here you can see the fruits of all that. It's a school in case you were wondering. No sorry scrub that, this is no mere school, this is a Catholic international sports college, with "world class thinking" and "world class achieving"; so there. Hmm, no matter, the trees are gone along with the fashion of calling a spade a spade.

Window Scene

Smyth's Toyshop, Clough Road

I don't suppose anyone much younger than myself and certainly anyone who did not watch 1960's British TV will ever have heard of Harry Worth. He had a series on the telly, what they call a sit-com, though it was more 'sit' than 'com' as I recall. No, the only reason I have dragged this out of the mire that is my distant past is that in taking this shot I was reminded of the opening of  Harry Worth's program. Well OK just take a peek at the video and you might see what I'm rambling on about.

Weekend reflections are here

The blue bottle

In the increasingly ridiculous local paper today I read that Hull is better than Paris. Et bien, à chacun son goût! But there are similarities for, on our delightful rive droite, close by the tidal barrier there's a space with seating where les philosophes meet to admire the view and drink cheap, synthetic, industrial strength cider from a big blue bottle. Did someone not say delusion is the first of all pleasures?

All the leaves are gone ...

Taken by Margot K Juby

...and the sky is grey.

The Weekend in Black and White should be here.

Up against a brick wall

Near Snuff Mill lane, Cottingham

The thing with walls is that they exclude or include, depends which side you're on I guess. *End of banal pointless platitude*

Church going, going, gone

A serious house on serious earth it is,

In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,

Are recognized, and robed as destinies.

And that much never can be obsolete,

Since someone will forever be surprising

A hunger in himself to be more serious,

And gravitating with it to this ground,

Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,

If only that so many dead lie round.
Philip Larkin  Church Going

Nothing is permanent and certainly not churches. For 700 years or so this place has been added to, altered, adapted, survived sieges and world wars, generally kept standing by running repairs and renovations. Each generation adding its own particular contribution to its rich tapestry so that now it is the largest parish church in the country with some of the finest medieval architecture. So what could today's generation add to this jewel of a building? Surely with all the wealth, skills and cultural knowledge that abound in this city a sympathatic way could be found to maintain the fabric and upkeep of this place and pay the bills at least. Well perhaps but, as you might have guessed by now, that is not going to happen.

It was announced last week, to much fanfare and general acclaim (you will gather this did not include me) that, after employing 'marketing specialists' the vicar intends to go into the cafeteria trade! Yup he intends to take out the carved wooden pews from the nave and instal a 'tasteful' , that is to say, massive, glass screen behind which customers can consume their pannetones and steaming weak lattes while taking in the gothic ambience. There are to be banquets and concerts and who knows what other joyous goings-on in the space so created. 

I know, I know, you're asking where will the kitchens and lavatories and so on be; no problem, a glass and metalwork lean-to (in a tasteful gothic style, of course) will be plugged onto the south side and the medieval brickwork be damned. Outside, the church boundary wall and that tree on the right are to be removed, the churchyard in effect erased and turned into an alfresco coffee shop complete with fountains where you can sip your espresso in the company of the dead that lie in such abundance just under the paving stones. This is all part of a cooperation with the Council to create what is now fashionably called a 'piazza-style' space .... and it should be particularly enjoyable during the months November through April as these are by far the best for sitting around in the fresh air.

Oh there's more, if you can stand it, (and stand you must for there will be no pews) away from the diners, at the holy end as it were, interactive displays are planned to tell the story of the place. And don't worry we are told there will still be place for worship that is if God hasn't left the building.

The vicar says he already has donations of £1.5 million tucked away for this project and requires only another £3 million. It seems that leaving a lasting contribution to the culture of this city does not come cheap. And to cap it all the Archbishop, not wishing to be left out of the party, has decided to promote the church up to a Minster: Hull Minster. The Minster Café. How does that sound? Not remotely like a gimmick... (I'd prefer Ye Olde Boneyard Bistro myself but that's just me being me.)
And me being me would question whether the Church of England, is a fit and properly responsible organisation to leave in charge of this country's cultural heritage or at the least churchy bits. Maybe it should be moved out of these places all together and professionals put in charge. Now there's a thought; evict the C of E from its churches.

I have little doubt that should planning permission for this proposal be sought then the Council, believing, as so many do, that culture is just another opportunity to drink coffee, will grant it. That does make this any the less a tacky, crass and short sighted act of vandalism. And after all this I forgot to mention it's a Grade 1 listed building but that seems to count for so little these days. 

Poppyclock

Well I don't know, the ceasefire was well known to be coming along , indeed by 5am that morning it had been signed, so just to keep the numbers rolling the soft shitted generals sent their boys to go die for stuff they could walk into after 11am. So much poppycock. Anyhow t'was but a pause, a brief hiatus, in the continuing European war.

Triple X

Newland Avenue café habitués are no doubt waiting  with baited breath for this new coffee shop to open in the old video rental place. Whatever happened to renting videos (not that I ever did) and how soon will these coffee haunts become last year's thing? 

Carr Lane at sundown

That bus, the number 35, will go on down that road towards the setting sun until it reaches Willerby which I am told is the undiscover'd country, from whose bourn no traveller returns, at least not without a ticket.

Evening

I seem to be in a monochrome mood for some reason. It could be the near three days of rain and cloud and/or the earlier sunsets. Above Trinity House Lane and below Posterngate both of which I've shown before in more colourful mode.

Weekend Reflections are here.

You have arrived

Should you be wondering where on earth you are when you leave the station this sign will either reassure you or fill you with dread ...either way please do enjoy that end-of-the-line sense of freedom ...

The weekend in Black and White seems to have crept up on us once again, it's here.

Les feuilles mortes

One of the downsides of a long avenue of trees is the great fall of leaves at this time of year. If, however, you still have to find the inner adult in yourself then a long path of crispy crunchy golden brown leaves is a joy forever, as you noisily slush you feet through them and kick them gleefully in the air to the obvious alarm of youths who have yet to find the simple pleasures of life.

Now to the tricky question which to prefer: Yves Montand's Les feuilles mortes or Piaf's Autumn Leaves? Personally, I think listening to Piaf sing in English is akin to hearing a cat bark mais à chacun son goût! Now I'm sure I'll get this mournful tune as an earworm, agh!

Turtle-y Awesome?

I am, thankfully, in the position of knowing absolutely nothing about this. What is an adolescent mutant ninja turtle when it's all at home and should I be on the look for one as I wander in my time? Ignorance, I'm guessing, is bliss in this matter. It looks delightfully gross but then I'm no film critic.

Flying to the moon

Margot took this daytime moon photo. It just needed a little cropping. Teamwork huh?

Purple flag

Lamp posts in town have been draped with purple ribbons for a few weeks now but I didn't get round to finding out why until this weekend. It's a recognition that if you go for a night out in Hull you are most unlikely to encounter trouble. Hull it seems has been awarded a Purple Flag for being  civilised or in the words of some bumf I read "clean, safe, vibrant and enjoyable with something for everyone". So now you know as much as me.

The Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling

Oh! Death, where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling? 

Oh! Grave, thy victory? 

The Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling 

For you but not for me.

For those who believe in such things November starts in such cheery way with its two days of the dead. So yesterday all the Saints went marching in as it were, the officer class of the holy hierarchy, a Holy Day of Obligation, fasting and abstinence. Today it's the turn of the poor bloody infantry that is to say anyone else who has ever died, and, as I recall (and it's been a long, long time since this nonsense was forced on me), you can take this one or leave it as you like. As with so many Christian events this is just a take over of pre-existing pagan rites, the beginning of November being the Celtic festival of the dead, Samhain. These two days go largely unnoticed in this country, Hallow'een being a commercial thing and well, who does all that religion stuff these days? But in other parts, I'm thinking Mexico, they throw a three day party with much macabre merriment. I think maybe we're missing out.

The Weekend in Black and White is here.

A conspiracy of traffic lights

Today's theme for City Daily Photo is 'Landmark'. So here's my offering, no, not the overly large religious building in the background that has been there so long it's at the top of this blog. Nor yet the dim outline of King Billy riding off down Market Place. No, today's landmark is this collection of traffic lights which you must admit is pretty impressive (I make it 18 or more in this view). It has been noted somewhere, possibly apocryphally,  that it is possible to drive by motorway from Liverpool to Lublin without meeting a single traffic light (but do watch out for the ferry) except when passing through this slow-you-down-and-stop-now-start town of Hull. These lights, of course, are installed, at strategic points along the road, so that motorists can admire the more obvious landmarks that you see here...

I must confess that I looked for a collective noun for traffic lights, as you do, and found the title of this post in this really obscure link.

Things that go bump in the night

Seems ghosties and ghoulies and long-legged beasties are just not a surprise any more, too much commercialism has taken the chill out of the spooky. Or it could just be that it's difficult to feel any frisson of fear when the temperature's at all time high for the end of October. Well whatever Boo! there that scared yah!

One for sorrow, two for joy ...

Good morning Mr. Magpie. How is your lady wife today?

Seeing this collection of corvids in bushes just a few yards from home the other day set me to wondering what the collective noun for magpies might be. I knew about a murder and parliament of crows so a quick search came up with tidings, gulp, murder and charm of magpies. Seems you can also have a congregation and tittering of magpies as well. The well known counting song seems to stop at ten (for the devil's own self!) what you are supposed to say when there's fourteen or fifteen of the little beauties I don't know. Oh and did you know that three crows are a warning to sell your stocks and shares? You have been warned ...(Just been informed that, as I write, today, 29 October, is the anniversary of the Wall Street Crash!)

Now I quite like magpies but some people, who falsely call themselves conservationists, want to trap and kill them on the grounds that they eat song birds. It seems some birds are more equal than others to these perverted thinkers. These sick people use the hideous Larsen trap which involves a live magpie or crow being kept in a tiny cage as bait. It's a vile practice and really should be banned (you can sign a petition here much good it will do).

Short term view

The recent demolition of Wellington House and the clearances made for the new C4DI buildings have made a little space for a this view of the tidal barrier and the Millennium footbridge. Enjoy it (or not) while you can for new buildings will sprout up soon to block out this vista. The security fence around the site has images of what is planned, something new and definitely different.

Stench pipe

Earl de Grey, Castle Street

“Civilisation is the distance that man has placed between himself and his own excreta.” 

― Brian Aldiss 

There was a time, not so very long ago, when Hull was notorious for its distinctive stench. Not the all pervading pong of rotten fish that would drift across town from time to time, no this was something more down-to-earth. Sewage. Yup there was no denying that various points in town, notably Prospect Street, came with the odour of ordure. The drains it seems lacked gradient and we were, in the words of Churchill, unable to flush our own sewers. Step up, after much complaining, the water company and a big, and I do mean big, new drain and suddenly town smells as sweet as diesel fumes. Semper melior as they are wont to say round here.

Renovation

3-4 Pier Street

In the old town there's a spot of renovation going on or it could be demolition (these things can be synonymous around here). So they've wrapped the whole building in a green shroud lest some passer-by get hurt by a falling brick or plaster. You've seen this building before it's where it all goes.

...a green thing that stands in the way

“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all ridicule and deformity, and some scarce see Nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, Nature is Imagination itself.”
- William Blake, 1799, The Letters

I suppose if you have a canal then having really large trees growing over a good third of the waterway is not such a good idea. So it shouldn't have come as such a surprise to see these remains on the banks of the Driffield Navigation. Below how it was a few years ago before the haircut ...

That old Weekend in Black and White is here.

It's that house again

Looking through the posts on this blog I find I have posted this house three times already. [ 1 2 3 ] Well here's the fourth. And if I go back to Drifield I'll no doubt take this shot again.

Weekend reflections are here.

Missing: 1 Tree

Somewhere in this one horse town lives a person who, a couple of weeks ago and in the early hours of the morning, took it upon themselves to remove a tree. Was the urge for a spot of surreptitious tree surgery keeping them awake at nights? Did the tree, a nine year old accacia (see below), offend some strange esthetic and so simply have to go ...? Were they cold and had no wood for their stove? I think we'll never know. 

When news of a second tree being removed at midnight surfaced a few days later the local rag began to speculate on a possible serial arboricide stalking the region, power saw in hand, "the Phantom Tree Chopper", that is until the local council fessed up to the second one. Anyhow the traders on Newland Avenue want the Council to put in another tree and there's a small reward for infomation but it's safe to say the police are stumped on this one.

Thank you Google Street View

Lincolnshire's Finest

Following a theme of painting scenes on transport vehicles this decoration on the side of a coach brings us several of the delights of our neighbouring county Lincolnshire. Obviously Lincoln cathedral is instantly recognisable , the Boston Stump in the middle and is that Skegness' clock tower lurking at the back? So go visit Lincolnshire it's a fine and pleasant county, oh, and while you're there do try the local Lincolnshire sausages very tasty, very sweet.

Prospect Centre

This is a side entrance to the Prospect Centre. There are about 40 or so shops in this place. It was built in the mid-70's on the site of the old Hull Royal Infirmary and greatly extended in the 90's with the addition of a car park and an upper storey. It's a much smaller and I think more pleasant than the much newer nearby St Stephens.

Autumn Cemetery

Western Cemetery, Chanterlands Avenue

I always think these places look at their best in Autumn with a good scattering of leaves and the tree branches just beginning to show through. Another year to cross off ...

Shelter

Well it looks like a shelter but just how much protection it gives when the going gets rough is open to question. This seemingly redundant piece is right next to the little shop that sells ice cream and fish and chips when the weather is fine.

Gabrantuicorum sinus portuosus

"After riding about twenty-two miles thro' a flat grazing country, reached Burlington-Quay, a small town close to the sea. There is a design of building a pier, for the protection of shipping; at present there is only a large wooden quay, which projects into the water, from which the place takes its name. From hence is a fine view of the white cliffs of Flamborough-Head, which extends far to the East, and forms one side of the Gabrantuicorum sinus portuosus of Ptolemy, a name derived from the British Gysr, on account of the number of goats found there, according to the conjecture of Cambden."
Thomas Pennant A Tour in Scotland 1769

Burlington-Quay we now know as Bridlington and all those other antique names such as Bretlington and Britlington cute though they may be are now passé. Ptolemy called this place portuosus meaning there were many harbours but over the years the North Sea has eaten away the coast giving a large bay with miles and miles of sandy beaches. The white cliffs of Flamborough are still there though I think the goats are long gone.

Hull Fair and all the fun thereof

Round and round it comes again the Autumnal forced fun fest. Hull Fair, centuries old, seemingly never changing and just as noisy, smelly and tedious as ever.

At least old Balou was still there and not remotely impressed by all the goings on.

All pictures by Margot K Juby 'cos I had a bad foot and was in no mood to take pictures of this stupid thing, I just tweaked them a tad.

Black knight is a long way from home

The local train company¹ has decorated its trains with scenes from the cities it serves and so here we have Leeds' Black Prince statue shuttling backwards and forwards between Hull and Bridlington. The same train also had an image of Sheffield. I haven't noticed any trains with images of Hull yet, perhaps the company hasn't heard of the City of Culture ...

Weekend Reflections are here.


(1) I call it 'local' but Northern Rail is part of a vast conglomerate, owned by the multinational Serco and Abellio (the UK arm of the Dutch state railway), which operates transport services across Europe and elsewhere. Although I have heard Serco and Abellio have had a falling out.

A thingumabob

This whatchamacallit stands the end of Bridlington's north pier. It clearly serves some purpose but what that is or even what this gismo is called I have no idea. Maybe something to do with yacht racing, there's a Royal Yorkshire Yacht club in Bridlington which holds regattas off this coast and apparently they wave a lot of flags.

Bridlington

Bridlington was pretty much the same as ever it is at the end of season, quiet, the odd tourist, a few seagulls waiting for scraps, the Yorkshire Belle moored up till next year and the fishing fleet tied up because the weather's been a bit iffy lately.

and the winner is ....

As you might guess I'm not big on competing and the whole business of finding the so-called best  by this distasteful method leaves me asking why bother. But it seems some folks like a little competition even in the most obscure categories, so here, should you ever want to know, is the Beverley Bun champeen. It's on Lairgate, just down the road from the chippy, but the winner of this prestigious award is surely destined for bigger things.

Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore ...

I read today that the UK, for its size, has more tornadoes than the US. So, whilst Chanterlands Avenue may not look much like the corn fields of Kansas, Dorothy should still keep a weather eye out for twisters. Why only last August East Hull had one knock down some trees and lift a few roof tiles ...

This flagrant breach of copyright is in a stationers on Chanterlands Avenue. It has for sale mugs, tee shirts and other tchotchkes all with 'Hull' written somewhere on them, it's the place to go for your Hull memorabilia ... no seriously, stop laughing.