All new, all singing, all dancing

And speaking of buses, as I was a few days back ... The blue bus company has got some brand new buses with some rinky dink new technology. Well actually it's just the old GPS talking voice thingy adapted to a bus and it tells you out loud (and I mean loud) in a machine generated voice that no human could ever match just what stop is coming up next. Albany Street came out as Al-Banny Street, for example, there were others that made us cringe and with  a dozen or more stops on a shortish hop well the old  Luddite tendencies were bubbling forth ... I can see how it might help those who can't see so well or maybe those who don't know the town so well but it was horribly grating to the ear and intrusive to conversation. We both agreed that it wouldn't last long (the drivers won't stand for it we said) and indeed the next time we got on a new blue bus it had rather unsurprisingly been muted and the driver had a wicked smile on his face ...

Seemed like a good idea at the time

Sometimes a good idea gets just a little out of hand ... this magnificent silver birch adorns, nay, dominates majestically the delight that is Coltman Street.

The weekend in black and white is here.

The Golden Eagle

I've shown the Eagle on the corner of Coltman Street and Anlaby Road a couple of times before (here and here). The place has long ago given up on being a pub like it once was and had fallen on hard times as they say. Well now it has been converted into flats, though I did hear a story that a small pub (with micro brewery?) might open on the ground floor. Whatever happens the place now looks a million dollars, with new windows and all painted up with the eagle (that they really couldn't remove, now could they?) given a fresh golden coating. It all looks really good. 

Yankee Meal

Here we are on Hessle Road the noted culinary centre of the City of Culture. To tempt your palette with some fine American fare there are pizzas of various hues, Donner kebab, Hamburger (with or without a scrumptious cheese topping) and Frankfurter ... all with French Fries to go. If all that seems just a little too American they do sell a spiced chicken dish described as "Southern Fried", must be some novel Home Counties recipe ...  

Seriously though the place has great reviews and if this is the kind of stuff you like then this is the kind of place you should try.

Delights of Dovedale

There I was idly going through the curate's egg that is Twitter when I came upon the postcard from the past (@PastPostcard) titled Delights of Dovedale. Dovedale? The name rang a bell, where had I heard it before? Turns out Dovedale is a National Trust owned valley in Derbyshire noted for its Peak District scenery and the hundreds of  thousands of tourists who flock there each year.  But that wasn't where I 'd seen the name ... Our delightful Dovedale is a not so pretty large barge that spends a great deal of time just tied up, slowly rusting on the Hull mud. As far as I know it's not noted for anything much other than being posted in this blog a while back. Maybe if it stays there long enough the National Trust will take it over.

Le Chat Noir

This little black cat turned up a couple of years ago and looked just like another little black cat that also roamed these parts a few years earlier who was called Nipper because he would be all smiles and purring then give you a nasty nip if you weren't lively enough to get out of his reach. So this guy became Nipper for lack of imagination. Nipper I hasten to add is not our cat; all our cats have died so he's spotted a gap in the market hasn't he? Nipper just appears and makes himself at home in the garden, on the back of the sofa or on the bed if you let him. Nipper never seems to go home save when it's raining. He may look sweet but he can catch birds, well one goldfinch will sing no more that much I know, and mice. If Nipper is your cat and you haven't seen him for a while he's probably asleep out the back behind the pumpkins.

Nipper is appreciating Black Cat Appreciation Day even if no-body else is.

The Prudential Memorial

I must have seen this plaque close by Queen Victoria Square hundreds of times, seen it, walked over it, gone about my life and then the other day finally I stopped to read it. Such a small thing, such a terrible story and, to me, a better memorial than the gaudy thing just along the street.