The Red Mount Chapel

Taken by Margot K Juby

On our way to Morrisons for some late night shopping we passed this little beauty in the Walks. I won't bore you with the history of this place just say it's an amazing survivor through some turbulent times and has been recently restored and is open to the public though obviously not at nine o'clock on a September evening. Hopefully we'll be back for a better look round sometime.

Out to the Wash

Here we are again down the Fisher Fleet; this time with a bit of day light. If you carry on past the fishing boats you eventually fetch up at the river, the Great Ouse, which flows out into the Wash. The river no longer flows in its own free way but in a man made channel, dead straight. King's Lynn used to be much nearer the sea but land reclamation, drainage and such things means it's now a few miles inland.

The weekend in black and white is here.

The Fisher Fleet

The Fisher Fleet just after sunset with a bit of a tide to reflect the lights and ghostly almost invisible ducks quacking to themselves is an experience not to be missed. Sure it involves a wee bit of trespass on port authority land but no one will mind too much and even if  they do they can only politely advise you to leave.

Folk have been setting off from here to scour the Wash and North Sea for fish and such like for centuries, these days it's mainly shrimps that provide a living for dozens in King's Lynn.

The Fleet now lies strictly controlled with embankments between two docks and surrounded only by light industry. A painting from the 19th century shows a more rustic, even bucolic, place with folk having a nice family day out by the banks of the stream. I can't see that happening these days. I found a couple of other old paintings here.

Margot Juby took this

Just ignore this sign ...

MargotJuby  took this

And if you are a tad confused over the word fleet, here it means a creek not a collection of boats. In fact the Fisher Fleet is the mouth of the Gaywood river which flows with no great urgency for a few miles and empties into the Great Ouse here. So there you go, it's clear as mud ... There are other 'fleets' in and around Lynn, Millfleet and the Purfleet spring to mind.

Fleeting

Let's not have a sniffle, let's have a bloody-good cry
And always remember: The longer you live
The sooner you'll bloody-well die...

To King's Lynn for a funeral, at very nearly 90 years of age Fred Juby, Margot's old dad, just died while reading an Ian Rankin novel so he didn't miss much ... The service was a strange thing, though quite common these days, I'm told: a non religious event that nevertheless kept to the forms and structures of a religious service. So instead of hymns we had Glenn Miller's foot-tapping In the Mood, John Lennon's Imagine, instead of a prayer a poem (of excruciating banality) instead of a priest a 'humanist' person reading an obituary. I suppose we should mark these passages from life in some way but give me a good old burial in the deep clay complete, if need be, with "Man, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery...He cometh up and is cut down like a flower ..." or better still just feed me to the crows rather than being shuffled off behind a purple curtain while Bud Flanagan sings the Dad's Army theme tune.

So any way it was a good day especially as it wasn't my funeral and we got this grand old double rainbow stretching right across the town.

The Railway

This pub  in Cottingham has been closed since January and was only open for a few weeks over Xmas before that, the seasonal decorations are still up... Basically it's on its uppers and whoever owns it has decided enough is enough and has put in plans to erect "10 dwellings with associated access, parking, landscaping and infrastructure following demolition of hotel". You last saw this place way back in 2012 when it was positively blooming.

As he lived he died ...

"A handsome monument has been erected, by the congregation, in St Mary's church Hull, to the memory of the Rev. John Scott. It is in white marble, and built in the wall to the left of the organ. In the centre is a bold basso-relievo likeness of the deceased, encircled by palm branches; the likeness is exceedingly striking, although the only guide the sculptor had was a black profile, a small pencil drawing, and the suggestions of the friends of the deceased. The accessories are a crown of glory, unfolded by the removal of drapery, a book opened, and the communion vessels. Underneath is written the following inscription: "In memory of the Rev. John Scott, M.A. eighteen years minister of this parish, who died October 16,1834, aged 47 years, and is interred within the communion rails. His high endowments were devoted to the great object of making full proof of his ministry. 'Mighty in the Scriptures,' he declared ' the whole council of God' with singular judgment, energy, and simplicity. As he preached he lived— and as he lived he died. To perpetuate the remembrance of the fervent piety of their pastor and friend, an affectionate congregation have erected this monument." The sculptor is Mr. T. Loft, of London, a native of Hull.—The Committee for furthering the Subscriptions on behalf of the family of the Rev. Thomas Scott, the Commentator on the Scriptures, and father of the above, announced in July last, that the amount then received was somewhat less than 2800l. "This sum, though considerable in itself, will yet be admitted to be very inadequate to benefit no less than fifteen young persons, (the grand-children) more or less unprovided for."

                       Extract from The Gentleman's Magazine and Historical Chronicle, 1835, Volume 158

It's nice to have someone write your stuff for you nearly two hundred years before you need it but then you find they've gotten his age wrong, he was 57 not 47, it seems journos can never be trusted. Also Johnny Scott may have been "mighty in the scriptures" but to leave fifteen children "more or less unprovided for" strikes me as being a tad too reliant on the Almighty not suffering the soul of the righteous to famish.

The weekend in black and white is here.

The Jube

Jube, Domine, benedicere

The church of St Mary on Lowgate has featured a few times in this electronic mishmash. I thought I'd posted stuff from inside but maybe it's hiding somewhere I can't find it. Here's the rood screen or jube which separates the paying customers and general riff-raff in the mosh pit or nave from the holy end with the brass and stuff. It supposedly adds to the mystery of what is little more than a two thousand year old confidence trick. This looks pretty old but in fact is from 1912 by one Temple Lushington Moore (you just don't get  names like that any more) as the craze for renovating old English churches was drawing to a close, the Great War would finish off that madness completely. The above is just a detail; it's really quite thing ...

A is for Crow

Μεζεδοπωλείο

The Greek is on Princes Avenue. This place used to be a fish and chip restaurant for a short while a couple of years ago ...

and before that it was probably the best off licence in the world ...

and there was no before that as far as I am concerned.

(That's three pictures I've finally found a use for.)

Hull Moon

The Church of England having long ago given up being in the god-bothering trade is now trying to pull in the paying punters with silly stunts. So Rochester Cathedral had a mini golf course installed while Norwich erected a helter-skelter slide with the aim of seeing the place differently. I mentioned a few days ago that this place, Holy Trinity, was hosting a Michelangelo exhibition; this follows on from last year's giant inflated model of the moon suspended in the nave. I believe they also have a real ale festival and a gin festival as well though not at the same time.

Meanwhile God does not play dice but is unbeatable at whiff-whaff...

The Old Police Court

"In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups. The police who investigate crime and the district attorneys who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories."

You've no doubt heard the spiel at the beginning of Law and Order (if not  then you've had a lucky life). However it wasn't always the case in this country (that is to say England and Wales, Scotland has its own way of doing law and don't even ask about Northern Ireland)  that the police and the prosecutors were separated so neatly. Up until the mid 1980s police officers could and would prosecute offenders in certain cases. Officially they were acting as private citizens in court but in reality the same officer could investigate an offence, arrest a suspect and then prosecute the case, no doubt they would have been judge and jury as well if they could. Clearly this was unsatisfactory and prone to corruption of process. I give this little  history lesson to explain how the Guildhall comes to have an entrance marked Police Court. Nowadays we have an independent Crown Prosecution Service and Magistrates courts and everything is all just tickety-boo, well that is their story. 

The fat putti, the medusa head, the teeny George and Dragon, and the freemasonry handshake (!!) I leave to your imagination. They show signs of having been damaged at some time and stuck back together; the Guildhall was hit by bombs during the last war so maybe that explains this. The entrance is down the street from the equally well adorned Crown Court entrance I showed some while back and now serves the Coroner's Court.

The weekend in black and white is here.

Small & Red

Claims to be the smallest bar in this small town and who is going to argue? I think it could also be the reddest one as well. As I recall this place used to be a solicitor's office until a few years back. Manor Street is the place to seek out this delight and if it's full you can always go to the one on the corner...

"Well, here's another nice mess you've gotten me into."

Verdant, crumbling and in need of repair

Queen's Gardens pond looking really quite nice in the early September sunshine, almost picture postcard perfect, the only fly in the ointment being the big white streak of stupid imposed on the good folk of this town by the tasteless town council. Just don't look behind you as the walls are fenced off (well supposedly fenced off) and in danger of collapse and officially in need of urgent repair.

A Sunday Morning Stroll

"...it's oh so nice to just wander
But it's so much nicer, 

yes it's oh so nice, to wander back"

On this bright and not very warm Sunday morning, while gentlemen in  England were abed, I set off down Hotham Road North

carried on down this grassy path

over this tastefully decorated footbridge

down Priory Drive, a quiet back street filled with the chirping of sparrows

trudged along the soul destroying Hotham Road South

walked down Wold Road

passed this young crow sitting on a fence

and arrived at my destination ... Ta daa

well yeah erm underwhelming doesn't begin to tell it ... "Worth seeing, yes; but not worth going to see" was Dr Johnson's opinion of the Giant's Causeway, this gravity defying rubble is not even worth seeing. This is all that remains of Haltemprice Priory farmhouse built in the early 16th century or thereabouts. It said that some of the building uses stone from Haltemprice Priory which if HenryVIII hadn't dissolved the whole lot would have gone into receivership or the medieval equivalent. The site of the priory is a scheduled monument though there is nothing to see but a huge security fence.  As you can see it's a lot of a wreck and despite being Grade2 listed it is on that list of buildings at risk.

The whole walk was about a little bit over two miles to this place and was proof of that old saying that "to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive". Better still though is the coming back and putting your feet up.

Never heard of him

John Enderby Jackson was apparently someone of note (or notes even) and has a small plaque in Queen's Gardens which I came across today. I won't sit here and pretend I know who he was or what he did but I will link to something that Google popped up so you can amaze your friends with your knowledge of the arcane ways of musical band competitions and the history there of. Here's the little link.

King George's Field

"To promote and to assist in the establishment throughout the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland of playing fields for the use and enjoyment of the people."

When George V died in 1936 some folk wanted to have a memorial that was a bit more useful than yet another statue and came up with the fine idea of recreation fields. The entrance to each field (and there are 471 of them dotted around the UK ) has to have these "heraldic panels or other appropriate tablet medallion or inscription commemorative of His Late Majesty". I read they were supposed to be in carved stone or cast in metal but these seem to be shall we say concrete castings and a little the worse for wear. Never mind, we struggle on. (Something else I discovered in reading about this is that in Scotland they too have a lion and a unicorn but the unicorn, which after all  represents Scotland in this heraldic nonsense, is on the left post and has a crown. I find this differentiation somehow quite petty and pleasing at the same time.)

This particular field is between Cottingham Road and Inglemire Lane close by the University and I have, over the past thirty odd years, walked by thousands of times without entering. That is until yesterday when we went to have a little look see. It is down a neat tree lined lane and is just a big playing field with a few swings and things. But plenty of folk were using it either walking the dog, mucking about or kicking a ball and that's the main thing I guess. I just wonder if anybody remembers poor old Georgey.

Fifty five days to Hallowe'en

I bring news of pumpkins. Pumpkins, correct me if I'm wrong, are supposed to sphericalish and, well, orange. Hmm. The one above seems to think it is some kind of stumpy marrow or obese courgette. T'other one, for there are, despite many flowers, just two fruit, has decided to appear four foot up an ivy clad wall and thus needs some support. It's the right shape just a bit too yellow for my liking. Maybe by the end of October it, and so many other things, will ripen nicely.

Just don't drop it

What's this? Some kind of fair ground attraction at the back of Staples, a place well known for attractions of an all together different sort? No, not even close.

Back in April I mentioned that work had started on building a footbridge across Castle Street. Well in the past few days in this car park just a few yards down the road this has spring  up. Yes, it looks like the long awaited bridge just needs lifting up and putting in the right place and we should be good to trot. But quite how you lift a girt heavy and wide load like this and place it with pinpoint accuracy on its supports is thankfully not my concern. Let's just hope they don't drop it.

The Weekend in Black and White is here.