More Larkin about

Another sign on the via dolorosa that is the Larkin Trail, this on the doorway of the Royal Station Hotel. 

You are dying to read the poem he composed to the Royal Station Hotel aren't you? Oh yes you are ...

Friday Night At The Royal Station Hotel

Light spreads darkly downwards from the high

Clusters of lights over empty chairs

That face each other, coloured differently.

Through open doors, the dining-room declares

A larger loneliness of knives and glass

And silence laid like carpet. A porter reads

An unsold evening paper. Hours pass,

And all the salesmen have gone back to Leeds,

Leaving full ashtrays in the Conference Room.

In shoeless corridors, the lights burn. How

Isolated, like a fort, it is -

The headed paper, made for writing home

(If home existed) letters of exile: Now

Night comes on. Waves fold behind villages.

Dead Poets' Corner

I took a few more shots of Larkin's somewhat grotesque statue in Paragon Station the other day with a view to using them at some point in the future. He's always good for a post on a dull day is my view. Well it seems the dull day has arrived rather quicker than I expected as it's been announced that the man who handed on misery to man is to be honoured, if that's the right word, in Westminster Abbey's poets' corner. Would it be going too far to say that the Abbey is jumping on the city of culture bandwagon? Perhaps. The ceremony, on December 2 2016, will take place only days before the start of the Culture fest in 2017. The custom used to be to bury the famous scribes in the Abbey but nowadays they just lay a named floor stone. I'm thinking a pair of entwined bicycle clips or a hedgehog would be a fitting extra decoration anything but toads ....

The trouble with kilts ...

... is that you can't read the little bits of Larkin poems scattered around Hull station without looking faintly funny as you lift first one foot then the other to see the literary gem beneath your pleated tartan.

Astonished brickwork

Ella Street (or at least its residents' association) has a thing about birds, there are bird tables along the length and little model birds attached to street furniture, I've posted about this a while back (here). What I didn't know then but have found since is that this avian fix has extended to putting up little quotes from literature with a birdy theme. Various authors from Wordsworth to Poe were chosen. Anyhow this being Hull and reason being what it is I suppose they could not escape the Larkin effect. At least this is one of his more cheery verses, yes I know it's difficult to believe. 

And while I'm on about old baldy, some of you may recall the fibre glass toads that decorated the town a while back on the celebration (there is no better word for it) of his death some 25 years earlier, well wait five years and suddenly it's thirty years since his death and a reunion of toads is planned this year along with a very large inflatable toad to hang over the town centre. You know a dead Larkin is the gift that keeps on giving ... It's a culcher thing, innit!

This is on the wall of the Jewish cemetery at the far end of Ella Street and close by that delight of modern architecture that I posted the other day .

You want the whole picture and the whole poem? Surely you do, it's really not that long, honest.

Coming 

On longer evenings,
Light, chill and yellow,
Bathes the serene
Foreheads of houses.
A thrush sings,
Laurel-surrounded
In the deep bare garden,
Its fresh-peeled voice
Astonishing the brickwork.
It will be spring soon,
It will be spring soon—
And I, whose childhood
Is a forgotten boredom,
Feel like a child
Who comes on a scene
Of adult reconciling,
And can understand nothing
But the unusual laughter,
And starts to be happy.

Philip Larkin

Singing too-ral-li, oo-ral-li, addity

Singing too-ral-li, oo-ral-li, addity,
Singing too-ral-li, oo-ral-li, ay,
Singing too-ral-li, oo-ral-li, addity,
And we're bound for Botany Bay.

Sorry, couldn't resist a quick chorus of this well known ditty which has absolutely nothing to do with today's post, so let's get back on track shall we ...

You might have thought a florist opposite a large hospital would have a good trade in what Larkin called "wasteful, weak, propitiatory flowers". But the shop despite (or perhaps because of) its fine name has, like old Larkin, failed to thrive. I remember when this was a post office many years ago. The online history of Anlaby Road informs me that the building, 197 Anlaby Road, was originally known as Albert Cottage and was built between 1842 and 1848 it also notes that it is "a rare survivor" of the original buildings in this area though how much longer it will last is anyone's guess.

It's a bit of an earworm that song....

Now all my young Dookies and Duchesses,

Take warning from what I've to say:

Mind all is your own as you toucheses

Or you'll find us in Botany Bay.

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. 

The point of delivery

The NHS has undergone many twists and turns over the years. There are many who say it is being sold off for private profit, well that maybe, there are other better places for that argument. Here, however, a private hospital has been sold to the NHS to safeguard the care and treatment of patients. This used to be the Nuffield Hospital on Westbourne Avenue until 2008 when the NHS took it over. 

Looking into the history of the building I find a Mr E H Garbett, a manager of the Hull Dock Company lived here in the 1890's, the house was then called Barcombe House. He was a member of the Primrose League, an organisation set up to promote Conservative Party policies and values, back in the days when Gladstone was PM. I wonder what he would make of his former home being part of a health service, free at the point of delivery, based on clinical need, not ability to pay; one whose founder, Nye Bevan, called "pure Socialism".

I cannot post about this building and fail to mention that this was the place where Philip Larkin died. There is, inevitably, a plaque on the wall outside, a kind of memento mori to all who enter. Cheerful, innit?

That big old "Thank You, Hull" party

They seemed to be packing a whole year's worth of 'culture' into one afternoon in Hull yesterday. The day started with the Lord mayor's parade complete with a fly past of some WW2 planes which I saw from two miles away while getting my newspapers, those three planes made one hell of a racket, no stealth bombers back then.

I wouldn't normally attend things like this but I had to go into town for stuff anyway so I had a little look-see. I only stayed for an hour and missed most of the goodies on offer including a "Larkin Toads performance" (I bet that was fun). Here in no particular order are some of the goings-on that I witnessed. 

Synchronised Lindy Hopping!

Where's the next act gone?

A robot that prints on the pavement

If you're wondering what the "thank you" is for it's a  City of Culture thing and if you're still wondering what a City of Culture thing is I suggest lying down in a cool dark room with soothing music. If these images aren't sufficient the local rag has more pictures here.

A folly or two

I don't know if I've shown this before but it doesn't matter if I repeat myself (a sure sign of creeping old age ...). Anyhow this is or was the top cupola from the old town hall built in 1866 and knocked down to make way for the Guildhall. Clearly there was no shortage of money for public buildings in those days. It now sits among the ducks and geese of Pearson Park.

For those of you who long to see a short film about Hull  the city of culture people have produced a four and half minute encomion. You can see it here and judge for yourself. I suspect Larkin, whose words (taken from an introduction to anthology that appeared over thirty years ago) are used at the beginning, would be laughing his head off  if he could see how much pretentious tosh has been made out of his scribblings.

National Poetry Day

I've just found out that the first Thursday in October is National Poetry Day. And since I also just happen to have a piccy of  Laughing Boy Larkin's old place complete with slate plaque and glass fibre toad I thought the two would go nicely together. Now Larkin when he first came to this place thought Hull was "a frightful dump" "smelling of fish" but as the years rolled by and there was clearly no money left in running down the place Hull became "… a city that is in the world yet sufficiently on the edge of it to have a different resonance’. Personally it's still a dump but both Larkin and the smelly fish have gone so it's not all that bad.

"Even the mud is beautiful." Yeah, right ...

Here, for completeness, is the view from the new swing bridge looking south towards Myton Bridge and the flood defence thingy. 

I've heard of plays, films and books and so on being reviewed but never a bridge; that is until I came across a piece on the Guardian website reviewing the new Scale Lane Bridge. It's full of the usual meaningless reviewspeak phrases, "As well as being a place, it's an event ..."(?), "Scale Lane bridge is not just a way of getting from A to B, but something in itself. "(???) and the usual 'Hull is really a dump but we're not allowed to say so' comments, "Hull is the city whose misfortune is to sit on a word ladder between dull and hell, and whose associations with Philip Larkin and John Prescott link it to misery and unloveliness, most of which negativity is unfair."(Oh no it's not!) What is missing is any sense of the sheer ugliness of the thing, the massive waste of money and it's complete and utter uselessness apart from being a place to take pictures like this. 

OK rant over.

It's that man again

Old Pip Larkin still running for his train .... He once wrote in an introduction to a book "When your train comes to rest in Paragon Station against a row of docile buffers, you alight with an end-of- the-line sense of freedom ..."  well, maybe so, I can't help feeling the old librarian was taking the proverbial mickey...docile buffers, indeed!.

A local councillor recently criticised Hull's newish fangled rail/bus station as being difficult to navigate if you are a first time visitor. A facetious response would be that the first time visitor is well advised to turn round and go back but I rise above that. Most people seem to want to know how to get to the Deep and, of course, there no signs or if there are I haven't seen them. This aspiring city of culture is incapable of joined up thinking. Seems the ticket office is difficult to find and it's an overall confusing experience.  Oh and the toilets are a pit of hell as well ... go back, I tells yer, go back, go back..

It's a Hull thing

Patty: a concoction of mashed potato and sage covered in batter and deep fried; sometimes served with chips which are potatoes also deep fried and scraps which are bits of deep fried batter. Often served in a Patty Butty which means the patty comes in a breadcake with butter (the health conscious leave out the butter).

Breadcake: a small round piece of bread  sometimes known as a bap or barm cake or stottie or bun or  fadge or whatever other dialect term meets your fancy.

Obesity Table: one of the few leagues that Hull tops [ 1 ].

This toad, known for some reason as the "Hull Poem Toad" was part of the Larkin Toads thing from a couple of years back. It's not on food shop, oh no, it's on a shop selling doors on Anlaby Road.

The Building

Higher than the handsomest hotel

The lucent comb shows up for miles, but see,

All round it close-ribbed streets rise and fall

Like a great sigh out of the last century.

After 46 years Hull Royal Infirmary is beginning to show its age. Chunks of cladding have been coming adrift for a few years and so finally money has been found to repair and rebuild, there's even enough for a new Accident & Emergency Department, so as you can imagine the site is bit chaotic with more builders than doctors. I fear it is going to take more than a few million and a crowd of builders to save our NHS from the predations of this Government but this is not the place for that discussion.

The quote is from that beacon of joy Philip Larkin, (who else?), it ends:

That is what it means,

This clean-sliced cliff; a struggle to transcend

The thought of dying, for unless its powers

Outbuild cathedrals nothing contravenes

The coming dark, though crowds each evening try

With wasteful, weak, propitiatory flowers.

Until tomorrow then, if I'm still here ...

From Victoria Pier

This is the view towards the river Hull from what is now called the Victoria Pier but which used to be called the Corporation Pier and from which ferries ran across the Humber to New Holland.  I thought the gull deserved a close-up for not flying away while this idiot was lining it up for the shot.

City Daily Photo's In Focus features an interview with me covering cynicism, romanticism, Philip Larkin and other bits and bobs about photography and Hull. Though I say it myself it's far from boring. Read it here.

Bridge for the living

Last year was the thirtieth anniversary of the opening of the Humber Bridge. Since then, as I may have mentioned, the tolls have have been reduced by half with increased traffic of 7% so that's good news all round. I was prompted to post this picture by one those plaques to do with the Larkin Trail that pepper the city in various places. This one by the old ferry landing pier.

This mentions a cantata called 'Bridge for the Living' written to celebrate the completion of the bridge so a little trip to You Tube found the following. Some of the pictures are pretty and you can always turn the sound off.

Opulent Autumn Cemetery

You don't have to be a lover of graveyards to appreciate the glories of Spring Bank Cemetery. At this time of year it's looks spectacular.

The cemetery is on the Larkin Trail. Philip Larkin described it as the most beautiful place in Hull and for once I could almost agree. In defending the cemetery against "improvement" in the late 70s he said it was a "natural cathedral, an inimitable blended growth of nature and humanity of over a century; something that no other town could create whatever its resources". I  think he might just be guilty of exaggeration. 

Barmston Drain

The Beverley and Barmston drain to give it its full name drains the land between Beverley and Driffield and runs to the west of the river Hull joining it just before the mouth of the river. The pictures here are from the stretch near Sculcotes Lane in Hull. It's pleasant enough now with a tarmac footpath, almost civilised, but when the gas works and electricty power station were operating up to the 1960s the drain was used for cooling the plant and waste hot water was pumped back into the drain making it steaming and polluted. Houses backed on to the drain it was all very Dickensian. Here's Philip Larkin in 1964 having a stroll by the drain while reading one of his more depressing verses.

Now the drain is crystal clear and well stocked with fish and there's abundant wildlife. Of course where there's drains there's rats.

Reflective Colours

Oh no, not another toad! I thought I'd seen the back of these critters until I came across this little dazzling beauty outside the Arc building on Queen Street. It's part of last year's 'Larkin with Toads' ballyhoo. The artist is Sue Kershaw who has a website here.

Before these toads drive me completely mad I must tell you the Larkin with Toads scheme was voted the "Most Remarkable Experience in Hull and East Yorkshire" and was also the winner of the Yorkshire Tourism Event of the Year award. Enough, that's it; no more toads ....

Toad of Toad Hall

The Larkin toads were auctioned off a few weeks ago. This one obviously landed on its feet in a fine house in Cottingham.