Uniform Rip Off

A strange thing today on the local TV news; a Labour MP calling for more competition and openness in business: the business, that is, of selling school uniforms. A fine scam this; where a school is legally allowed to demand its pupils wear the school uniform (I'm not happy about even this but there's more...) and then demand that the uniform is bought from a particular shop or supplier. The school having a deal with said shop is, of course, profiting from its own regulations... Naturally such a practice, enforced monopoly, acts to no-one's benefit but the school and the shop. Many poor parents are finding uniforms prohibitively expensive (for each child between £255 for primary school and £340 for secondary school; that's per year ...I'm sure you'll agree this is  absolutely ridiculous! ) and this restricts their children attending the appropriate school. Simply buying a cheap uniform and stitching the school badge (as my mother did for me way back when I went to school) is not good enough for the money grubbing school who now require the school logo on socks! on blazers, on trousers! probably on the underpants ...

By way of a reaction to these scandalous practices and high prices a system of recycling uniforms (called Re: Uniform) has sprung up centred here at the Methodist Church on Cottingham Road/Newland Avenue. 

So a bill is being presented today in Parliament, the Education (Guidance about Costs of School Uniforms) Bill, I think every parent in the land will be wishing it to pass ...

The Hollyhocks Hang Harmlessly

Some nice people have not only planted cardoons in Newland Avenue but supplemented the fine small trees with hollyhocks some of which have gone a bit mad in the recent heat growing to ten foot or more.

Cardoon Time

Out and about on Newland Avenue this afternoon and came across this splendid beast growing in a raised bed. It's a cardoon or globe artichoke and most definitely not your standard Council plant. I'm told they are edible or rather the inner bits of the stalk can be stewed up and consumed au gratin should you choose. Anyhow bees love them.

Margot took this picture

A kind of magic

As you go up Newland Avenue (up meaning Northwards) you pass under a rail bridge and maybe pay little heed to the patch of land just to your side. It is hidden behind some protective fencing and only measures a few square feet. It used to be a bit of a problem with litter and "stuff" accumulating there, really just an ugly nuisance; but then some locals took it in hand and transformed it into a teeny magical garden where not everything is as it appears... So a big well done and many thanks to the folks who did this.

"Thanks drive!"

Living where I do and the town centre being where it is some form of transport is needed to get me from the one to the other and nine times out of ten this delightful East Yorkshire 103 or 105 service carries me gently to my destination. There is, of course, a Simplibus service 3 but that is simply more expensive and not quite the door-to-door experience I expect for the exorbitant fares. 

Oh, and should you ever ride the buses in this town never forget to thank the driver when alighting ("Thanks drive!" is an accepted mode of expressing appreciation, though I once said, my mind being elsewhere you understand, "Muchas gracias señor" without any reproach). If you do so you will surely find yourself amongst the blessèd ...

Knitting Bee

The neighbourhood knitters of Newland Avenue have been at it again this time on the theme of bees. I wouldn't fancy being stung by a brute this size. Any hoo, it's World Bee Day today so I guess this fits in with all that. I'll buzz off now.

The Cone Zone

Goddard Avenue gets the thorough ligature treatment while major surgery is performed on Newland Avenue, and pedestrians are protected by hundreds of yards of barriers.

But where are the workers, the heavy rollers, the fiery tar dragon laying thick, lovely smelly tarmac? Well it seems they finished the first part early and scarpered before I could get there. But this is a five week show, they'll be back next week for part two.

Old Chestnuts

It's that time of year when the Horse Chestnut trees send forth their floral delights. These contrasting specimens are on the corner of Newland Avenue and Cottingham Road but you can find them spread all over town. Only the white ones produce conkers of any usable size. For some unfathomable reason these are sometimes known as Buckeyes in America ... there's even a fetid buckeye which sounds truly delightful.

Margot took this.

What's in a name?

This was once the Blockbuster video rental shop until, well we all know what happened to the video rental business ("Please mammy what's a video?"). Then it became the Mahattan coffee bar for a while until, bored with that, it underwent a transformation into this: the Tipsy Chicken. Inviting ain't it? Never mind just across the road and down a bit is a restaurant by the name of the Dirty Bird... tasty.

Hurrah for Bluebells and Kopparberg!

To celebrate St George, the patron saint of England, Englishness and all that goes with it, what could be more fitting, I thought, than some nice Spanish bluebells and an empty bottle of Swedish cider (mixed fruit, of course!) ... there are always those who see this day as a chance to sit in the pub and drink ale, how very un-English!

Margot took the bluebell photo; she has a knack for finding litter lying around, well she found me....

Easter Traditions

The end of the forty days of Lent is in sight and to celebrate some trees on Newland Avenue have been adorned with white knitted rabbits (probably best not to ask what gibbeted rabbits have to do with anything...). Also there are small posters relating how Easter is celebrated in various parts of the world. So in Texas they set the place alight by building Easter fires. Hungarian boys splash girls with perfume so we are told. My favourite, though, was the Lithuanians who whip their relatives with palms to bring wealth. Strangely I could find nothing about the ancient Hull tradition of restoring potatoes to patties (which had been spudless for forty whole days! imagine that...) Ah those Easter patties so warm and filling! Oh and bringing out the chip spice from its sacred Lenten hiding place. Odd there's no mention of this.

There was a crooked man ...

There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile,

He found a crooked sixpence against a crooked stile;

He bought a crooked cat which caught a crooked mouse,

And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

 

 

Love from Newland Avenue

 

They're a romantic lot on Newland Avenue so when Valentine's Day looms they deck the trees with red hearts and ribbons. Oh and the florist, noted for its odd window displays, thinks that nothing says "I love you" quite so much as a large bull bearing a long stemmed rose. Must be something in the water.

Why did the zebra cross the road?

Zebra had to close earlier this year due to the landlord raising the rent by about 50%.  This is the newly reopened Zebra still on Newland Avenue just across the road, in fact, close to the zebra crossing (yes, I know, it's just too much). Anyhow here's wishing Ann good luck in this relaunch.

Quite Gratuitous

Well now there's  Margot saying the other day "Oh that'll be removed in a day or so". "What?" says I. "The bare backsides advertising a student accommodation agent" says herself. "The what now? Surely not ..." says I in all innocence. "Oh! ... I see what you mean" ...

And there's more; there's two gentlemen with their trousers around their ankles and the "Your place or mine?" tagline ... and all this on staid old Newland Avenue. There's not be such goings on since a dominatrix was boarded up in a massage parlour a couple of years back.

Now I don't mind a bit of smutty innuendo now and then I mean it's so full of, well, do I need to draw you a picture?. But not everyone, it seems, shares my view which is perhaps just as well. So cue the obligatory social media indignation from the PC (Puritanical Claptrap) brigade, the perennially silly and ever available for a quote MP for North Hull up on her hind legs with Tweets about "sleaze" and "brothels" and "portrayals of sex acts" (such a dirty mind she must have). And the cries of it objectifying women (but not men, note) and "will no-one think of the children" (who see far more and worse on their computers and phones before breakfast) etc etc etc. Those who wished to be offended were duly offended which is as it should be and they are no doubt smugly content.

Anyhow the accommodation agency have "organised the immediate removal of the images" but not so immediate that I was unable to take a leisurely stroll back down Newland Avenue to refresh my memory and verify my facts as it were.

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 ...

The Happy Couple

A couple of students celebrate paying off their loans by getting married ...


Margot K Juby took this delightful shot.

Fat Larry's as was

Fat Larry's if I remember right sold second hand CDs and that sort of stuff a few years back. This corner block including the shop next door was known as Pools Corner selling anything second hand, TVs, bikes, furniture and lots of  fishing gear as I recall. They ran a cheque cashing scheme as well. I may have bought a TV from there many, many years back (I've checked with Margot and yes we did, says herself, it was the one that went pink! Hmm.). Well Fat Larry is long gone and Pools Corner is now Ella Street Social Club.

One flew over the Crow's Nest

Outside this Italian restaurant on Newland Avenue was parked the smallest delivery van I've ever seen. This place was a year or so ago called La Perla, new name, new decor and it's getting good reviews. I've seen the menu and like all these places it's far from cheap for what is essentially pasta with some sauce on top. Thirty years ago this was a greasy spoon of a place by the name of the Crow's Nest (if I remember me rightly) it specialised in bacon butties and tea served in a pint mug! Autres temps, autres goûts! 

Wake up and smell the ....

Newland Avenue, Hull

Readers of this blog will know that I am a tea man myself. It was not always so. I used to drink loads of coffee, just like the old proverb: black as hell, strong as death, sweet as love. But then about three years ago after a nasty encounter with the Norwalk virus (I've never heard of any pleasant encounters with this little life changer) I just couldn't face the stuff again. Now I can't even stand the smell. 

So tea, anyone? Shall I be mother?

The weekend in black and white is brewing up over here.