Ten Years After

'...the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.'

This shop...  You do remember shops, don't you? You could wander in off the street (streets were places you could walk without needing a "reasonable excuse") and look at stuff and maybe, if you wanted, you might buy stuff at your leisure... well this shop is or was in King's Lynn way back in February before the Batshit Times descended and common sense died so many deaths from the hands of the lockdown lunatics. 

There is a desire amongst folk, folk who would ordinarily not have anything to do with superstition or astrology or ascribing significance to the motion of stars, to celebrate or at least mark in some way going round the sun a certain number times. So they have birthdays and wedding anniversaries and so on. Is there any point in all this nonsense? (It's to mark the passing of the time, you old cynic, well what else does time do other than pass ...) Counting off the years seems pretty damn useless, much like counting your breath or worse. So for those who are into that kind of thing today is apparently ten years since I started this fine blog. For all my good works I get called a "curmudgeon"; this it seems is the judgement of my peers (or at least one of them). You no doubt can find worse words to use, so use them while you still can.  

Improvements

It seems that 1970s browned glass windows (some call it 'gold' but some is fools) that give photographers such nice reflections are somewhat passé and doomed to the poubelles de l'histoire. So I mentioned the windows on High Street a while back (in passing I'll mentioned that the company involved with that has just gone into liquidation ...) and now plans have been made to change the windows on Europa House on Ferensway to bring them up to date or whatever the excuse is. Still given that the place has never been fully used since 1975 and was sold recently for less than the price of a good new car (£12,000 was the price since you ask) a change might be a good idea. 

You want to know what it might look like? OK here's the picture from the local paper, just don't tell anyone I borrowed it.

I have to say I think this is an improvement ... it's brighter, lighter and there'll still be some reflections.

Winter Trees

In this bleak midwinter rain has fallen, rain on rain ... and so Snuff Mill Lane fields are nicely awash and home to a few wary gulls and it's all a bit otherworldly.

I know it's hard to believe but I have seen a farmer try to grow a crop in these fields a few years ago. Every now and then it gets ploughed, harrowed and sown with barley or some such; I'm not qualified to say what sort of yields comes out of here but it can't be good since it's been fallow for a few years now. I think this is protected land, as in the Council's 'local plan' does not have in its sights, and it's also a site of scientific interest (but that means diddly-squat if developer wants it).

I've mentioned before that it's a great place for seeing the things of nature with birds, roe deer, weasels and so on. Best thing I saw this year was a buzzard being attacked by some crows. I took a not very good picture ...

It's beginning to look ...

... a lot like mid-November.

I don't know which is the more disappointing, misleading and tawdry. The tinselly fake-snow eight week build up to that stupid whilom Christian, whilom Pagan end-of-year exercise in conspicuous consumption and phoney bonhomie or the tinselly, fake, five week exercise in mendacity, vilification and knavery known as the UK general election. This year's offerings from the town that has the culture are particularly unimpressive, the town tree I'm told is much taller than the usual twig but someone hadn't turned the lights on so I couldn't see or maybe the helpful Grinch had stolen them (Hooray!).

Indeed there seemed to be no festering, sorry, festive lights at all in Queen Vic Square (Hooray! Hooray!). The only seasonal thing of any note was a gaudy illuminated  ginger bread house affair on King Edward Street. Council must have spent all their pennies on that and couldn't afford any more (Hip, Hip, Hooray!)

This looks impressive but it's all an illusion like everything these days.

Driffield Navigation

It is said that you cannot step into the same river twice but that doesn't stop you trying to photograph it. So, pace Heraclitus, here is the Driffield canal (or navigation, if you please) once again and it looks just the same as it ever did, nothing much seems to have changed in the fifty odd years since I first came here (well I've changed obviously, but this is just a virtual scrapbook not a philosophical treatise). Appearances can be deceptive, however, and some nearby things have changed and maybe I'll come to that another day. Meanwhile the old cranes are still there waiting for their close-ups ...

and there's a delightful little seat should it all be too much and you need to rest a while and maybe ponder Wittgenstein's word games and how you really can dip your toes in the same river twice; just mind the ducks ...

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.

Simply add water

The river Hull in these parts is basically an extension of the North Sea and as such is subject to the same tidal ups and downs. Which means if you don't much like being stuck on the the muddy banks then wait a while and a soothing, reflective brown influx will gently lift you up. 

Weekend Reflections are here.

You don't know what you've got till it's gone ...

What you've never had, I suppose, you'll never miss. So future new visitors to Lowgate might wonder at older folks shaking their heads and sighing a little at the loss of the 1970s brown glazed façade of the block opposite Holy Trinity. Gone forever now the near perfect reflections that any and I guess every local photographer and tourist snapped up on their first trip around town ... I know old empty offices serve no purpose and folk need places to live and poor threatened landlords die such a painful death without income ...and all the rest... so anyway here are new apartments whose occupants will no doubt complain about old folk pointing their crooked fingers at their windows, shaking their heads and sighing.

Well, OK then just once more ...  for old times' (and old timers') sake ...

*Shakes head and sighs*

Warped

If anyone bangs on about intelligent design being the way of the world just ask how the apex of the alleged Deity's plans, the most intelligent species on the planet can be brought low by something 80-120 nanometers in size. And what part that horrid little virion plays in any vast eternal plan? But that's enough theodicy for now. So in case you haven't guessed I've had and still have to some extent a version of influenza: could be the deadly Australian or the ever-so-polite Japanese or the entente filled French well whatever it was it was an absolute bugger. The past week has been one long semi-concious blur spent under a duvet surviving on soup, tea and easy-peel satsumas oh and regular doses of Paracetamol. Grrrrrr.

Today's picture is a reflection I caught at Cottingham station. If, like me, you see a sort of face in this image it's not a sign of warped mentality but of a "well wired brain" according to the Daily Mail. Pareidolia is, it appears, a good thing though I fail to see its place in intelligent design. If you don't see a face, of course, it means you have an even better wired brain, however if you regularly read and take the Daily Mail seriously I can't comment on your wiring ...

Anyhow back to the duvet and a cup of life saving tea ...

The Weekend Reflections are here.

Even the drains have beauty ...

...in the City of Culture. Barmston drain again with the onset of Autumn

Margot took the second one, and quite possibly the first; one camera, two idiots.

Weekend Reflections are lurking here.

ASDA, Hessle Road

If you look at old maps of Hessle Road you'll find the area between it and the docks along the Humber crammed with housing, every inch taken up with dwellings for the families of fishermen, rail workers and so on. The 60's and 70's saw much of this quasi-slum demolished and people shipped out to the sunlit uplands of Bransholme and Orchard Park. This left a large open space on the edge of town and as nature abhors a vacuum so in rushed a superstore, ASDA. It's a large, bland and inhuman space (now owned by Walmart) but at least does have windows to reflect the mural I showed the other day.

Weekend Reflections are here.

Trick of the light

OK so I waited 'til a blue car went past is that such a sin?

Weekend reflections are here.

BBC Proms at the stage in the dock

I mentioned that last Saturday that along with the Hull Folk Festival Hull was also host to the BBC Proms held at the little stage in the old dry dock. Those without tickets could listen from the footbridges at each end or turn on the radio or download it from the wonderful web.

Classical music may not be to everyone's taste and I captured the leader of Hull City Council making a early getaway; perhaps Morris dancing was more his thing. I'm sure he'd cut a fine figure dancing a jig in a shirt and baldrics with knee-length breeches and bell pads or more likely just playing the fool.

You have it to do

It's a strange compulsion I know, a kind of reflection fetish ... Someone puts up a set of windows and you just have to see what reflections they give. So here's what you get from the office windows around the new dry dock stage. Below is what it looked like straight on. This is, of course, the penguin prison and fish farm a.k.a  the Deep.

Apologies for the grainy pictures, entirely my fault.

Weekend Reflections are here.

Grainy Day Photos

If these pics of the tidal barrier seem a bit grainy that's because some idiot (that would be me) left the camera at a ridiculous ISO setting of 3200 (don't ask) and didn't realise that, unlike my old camera, it does not go back to auto when turned off.

I think you can just about make the word #city on the tower part of that 'see your words in print' thing that I mentioned yesterday. And as luck would have it a passing tourist asked me all about this so I was able to do an impersonation of a tourist guide. He seemed quite impressed by the place but then he gets to go home in the evening.

Reflections of Queen's Gardens

The continuing works to titivate this town are now reaching out to Queen's Gardens. The result is that the two duck ponds are fenced off and the fountains are also out of action. As a result for once the surface of these ponds is absolutely mirror-like. I don't know what the renovations to this place entail but I did hear that in the original plans those trees were due to meet their maker and the horrible cheese-grater that was refused elsewhere is to be installed right next to this spot. It'll be awful, on that you can rely. Hull is very good at awful.

The weekend in black and white is here.

Weekend Reflections are here.

The Millpond

I'd never seen old Humber so flat calm and peaceful. No clouds other than those made by the gentle folk of Lincolnshire (*waves hello*) without which this picture and the similar one below would be somewhat lacking in interest. 

Thursday was exceptionally clear and in these parts and at this time of year that almost always means there'll be a cracking sunset, so I make no excuses yet another going-down-of-the-sun photo. I could get tired of these sights but hopefully not any time soon.

Weekend Reflections are here.

Sunset and evening star

Ah well that's another turn around the solar system completed. I hear so many saying this year has been a bad one, worst year ever and so on and so forth. I admit I've known better ones but none quite so surprising. Still if you're reading this at least you're not dead; you can always eat a good breakfast and go back to bed.

Margot is responsible for the title of this post. "Use "Crossing the Bar"" says she, "seems apt... "

Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar.
                                           Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Cheerful beggar old Alfie! 

Chin up then and keep buggering on. I'd wish you all a Happy New Year but that doesn't seem to work any more ...

To see oursels as ithers see us!

Things to do on trains: part 1
Take silly pictures of yourself and get gawped at by other passengers.

This was taken somewhere between here and there, sometime ago by somebody.

Black

The weekend in black and white is here.

Weekend reflections are here.