Tagged: building
Green Squares and Secret Gardens
31 Jul 2021
At the end of July I went to have a look around some of the private gardens opened up by the annual Green Squares and Secret Gardens event. Sadly it was compressed into a single day this year, for various Covid-related reasons, it seems, so I didn't get to poke around too many places. I went to:
- A talk by the oldest resident of Victoria Square
- The St Vincent's Rocks Hotel garden
- The Paragon garden
- Cornwallis Crescent gardens, both east and west
- The Polygon garden
And snapped a few things in between, too. It was a lovely day—a bit too hot, if anything—and it was interesting to get into a few places I'd only ever seen from the outside, especially The Paragon and Cornwallis gardens, which are the least visible to passing strangers of all of them.
This section of Victoria Square, the second side to be built (Lansdown Road is the oldest—Regency—bit) is called Royal Promenade, and it built to resemble a palace. William Batemen Reed built it, then went on to build the Queens Hotel opposite the Victoria Rooms, which every Bristolian I know would more likely recognise by the description "the old Habitat at the top of Park Street" :D
Apparently if the Royal Promenade were symmetrical, the windows of 7 and 8 would be the same size. As it is, 8 is clearly very slightly grander.
Nobody's quite sure why the Royal coat of arms appears here. Nobody royal appears to have given permission for it, and Victoria, as far as anyone can work out, never stayed here.
The weather appears to have been kinder to the unicorn than the lion.
You can't see the join. Number 4 was obliterated when a bomb hit it in 1941, taking significant chunks of numbers 3 and 5 with it. Clearly they did a good job of the post-war restoration. There's a mention of the bombing on one of the BBC's People's War pages.
You can just about see the profile of Queen Victoria in the keystone; apparently it's the same image as used on the Penny Black.
I've been wanting to go through these gates for a while; you can only get tantalising glimpses of the listed extension from the bit of grass adjacent.
This is how the other half live—making sure that the Suspension Bridge is still there without having to leave one's boules court.
A Long Wander Of Miscellany and Magick
08 Aug 2021
This was a wide-ranging wander. I started off crossing the river to Bedminster, to walk a single little cul-de-sac, Hardy Avenue, that I'd managed to miss on at least one previous walk. Then, pausing only to explore a few back alleyways, I headed for a few destinations related mostly by the Hughes family, who I've been researching a little as part of background for a possible novel, as several of them were involved in the Stella Matutina.
However, mostly it's the artistic side of the family I wanted to explore today, as that's where most of their public history lies (as you might expect, there's often not much in the public record about the workings of an occult organisation.) First I visited College Green, where the façade of the Catch 22 Fish & Chip shop still bears the work of Catherine Edith Hughes. Then I wandered up to the top of Park Street to pop into the Clifton Arts Club's annual exhibition, as Catherine, her half-brother Donald, his wife Hope and at least two other Hugheses were members. Donald was chairman for 40 solid years; Hope was Secretary for eight, and Ellard and Margaret Hughes, two more Hughes siblings, were members along with Catherine.
Finally I walked home with a small diversion to Berkeley Square, to confirm the location of Donald Hughes's house by checking for a particular plaque by the front door.
I must admit I'm not entirely sure where all this research is really leading me, but I'm finding it quite interesting to bump across the faint lines of history that link the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, founded in 1888, to modern, quotidian Bristol.
This may be a more interesting view than you'd think at first sight. Whitemead and Winterstoke House, with Southbow House out of sight on the far side, were finished in 1962, as the post-War housing crisis continued. There's a fascinating article in the Bristol Post about them, especially Whitemead House, the block on the left here, which was famously used for external scenes in Only Fools and Horses after filming moved to Bristol, standing in for the fictional Nelson Mandela House in Peckham where the Trotters lived.
Museum of the Moon, and a Bit of Redland
21 Aug 2021
Lisa and I mostly went out to have a look at Luke Jerram's Museum of the Moon as its tour hit Bristol Cathedral—I missed it when it was previously in town, at Wills Hall, I think—but we also took a trek up to Redland. Lisa's kind enough to indulge my strange current fascination with the Edwardian eccentrics that made up the Stella Matutina, so we swung by a couple of places with a vague connection to the Bristol branch of the organisation. Well, it was good walking, anyway...
As a stunning bonus, one of the picture's descriptions has more information than you'd probably want on the Bristol Port Railway and Pier's Clifton Extension Railway line, but I did happen to coincidentally write up this wander after reading about the extension line during my lunch hour at work today. It's a thrilling life, I tell you...
"They afterwards built, in connexion with their convent, an asylum for the reception of about one hundred sick and aged poor, means for the maintenance of whom they obtained by soliciting alms from door to door"
Formerly a house, now a nurses' home, according to Historic England. Seems to add up, as it appears to now be on the grounds of the Bristol Homeopathic Hospital, which is "being used as the student health service for Bristol University"
On the left of the door is the service wing, apparently. It's a sprawling old place, and seems very awkwardly shoehorned into this corner. It looks from old maps like it was backing onto a quarry for a while, before that was filled in and the homeopathic hospital was built there.
Mostly the Metal Animals of a Clifton Garden
30 Aug 2021
Lisa and I went for a longish walk, but I didn't take many photos. Mostly we just wandered and nattered. Unusually, my target was outside my 1-mile radius on Burlington Road in Redland, where I snapped quite a few photos of the collection of artistic animals by Julian Warren. This was mostly to provide a fairly arbitrary destination for a roundabout walk in Clifton...
I don't know enough about fruit trees to know what this was, but I can tell you that the fruit was apple-ish and very sharp indeed.
Unusual to see an espalier on a north-facing wall. This one faces the little car park behind Freeland Place
More dual numbering. I was curious, as I think the first couple of houses of the Colonnade were demolished at some point, so I wanted to see whether (a) the old numbers were there at all, rather than just the new Hotwell Road numbers, and (b) if they maybe started at number 3...
The controversy about the pedestrianisation of this section of Princess Victoria Street continues to rage on NextDoor (seriously; I just had a look and the most recent thread about it had more than three hundred comments!)
Anything to do with parking/people driving into Clifton Village is always an insanely hot topic. I've never been able to get that worked up about it, myself, but then I live within walking distance (and I'm not trying to run a business that relies on people driving to me...)
I'm no arborist. I have no idea whether the big-arse mushrooms growing from the side here are just plain old benign mushrooms or a symptom of the fungal infection that killed this poor old beech tree.
Local councillor Katy Grant had this to say in a Nextdoor post:
...many sonar and other tests have been carried out to see if felling it could be avoided. Sadly, there has been no way out, and there is a risk that the tree will imminently start to be a danger to passers-by.
So this has been the sad outcome. A three metre monolith will be left behind, as a feature, and a habitat for insects and other creatures. A new beech will be planted alongside during thus winter's planting season. And six other trees will be planted along the edge of the Park Place green slope.
We popped in. I bought one of Ngaio Marsh's books of Inspector Alleyn stories. The community bookshop is run to benefit Studio Upstairs, an arts and health charity. The Bristol branch is down on the Albion Dockside estate behind Bristol Marina.
Since I found out that Angela Carter used to live around here, I've read The Bloody Chamber, and it was bloody brilliant.
Short and Sweet
06 Sep 2021
As if to prove that I don't have to go on giant rambles, here's a quick four-photo trip up to Clifton Village for a bit of cake. No new streets, just a tiny slice of life.
Shiny New Hope
24 Sep 2021
A quick lunchtime jaunt to Clifton Village. Along the way I admired the new sign on Hope Chapel and added to my tsundoku collection.
The scaffolding is down and there's a nice new sign (reminiscent of a historical one, I think,but I can't find the photo at the moment because Know Your Place Bristol is down) and you can just see the newly-installed solar panels on the roof behind it.
There's a mason at work on the carved pilaster tops on the frontage of the old Coventry (and before then, Stroud and Swindon) Building Society. They've moved everything to a central branch in town in the interests of efficiency, so now I have to go to bloody Broadmead to do anything.
(Yes, I actually went into town to get a cheque out of the building society just the other day, in 2021. I know I should chuck this old-fashioned malarkey in for a shiny electronic account, but it's for the management committee of the house I live in, so there's complexity and inertia involved...)
Among the many arguments about this pedestrianisation experiment, there has been quite the sub-debate over the delightfully modern COR-TEN steel steel/hideously ugly rusty* planters.
- Delete as applicable
A Morning of Research and a Cafe in a Castle
25 Sep 2021
I needed to pop to the library, as they'd kindly dug a book out of the reserve store at the B Bond warehouse for me and emailed me to let me know it was ready. So, I took a little trip to town, straight down the Hotwell Road, and spent a few hours reading before stretching my legs with a walk to a new cafe in the actual castle (or remnants thereof, anyway) of Castle Park, before heading back home down the other side of the harbour. As well as books and coffee, I bumped into a remote-controlled pirate ship, which isn't something you see every day, even in Bristol.
It's nice to see a new business open up on this stretch of the Hotwell Road. Since Asia Channel disappeared (and took with it my favourite local source of crispy beef) and the Hotwells Pine folks retired, it's all been looking a bit tatty.
This place has already garnered several good reviews from locals on Nextdoor and Google Reviews. I must try it at some point.
Have I ever looked up and noticed the view above Western Car Radio, which looks like perhaps the terraced back garden of St George's Primary? If I have, I don't seem to have snapped it before.
There are some unexpected links between Triodos Bank and some of the magical stuff I've been researching. I first found out when I checked the upcoming events at the Bristol Theosophical Lodge and saw a director of the bank would be giving a talk there. Apparently the bank is rooted in the ideas of Rudolf Steiner's anthroposophy. The Guardian says:
Its roots (like the UK bank Mercury Provident, which it took over in 1995), are in the anthroposophy movement. This refers to the ideas of the Austrian spiritualist thinker Rudolf Steiner, who died in 1925 and whose interests included education, 'biodynamic' agriculture, eurythmy (movement as art) and therapeutic medicine.
Triodos Bank's statutes committed it to anthroposophical principles until 1999, when this formal link was dropped, and in recent years the bank, under its current head Peter Blom, has embarked on a policy of reaching out beyond Steiner adherents and of broadening its appeal. Nevertheless, Triodos's origins are reflected in the fact that most of the Dutch directors come from within anthroposophy, and it is banker for many Steiner-inspired projects.
Bristol boasts one of the quietest rooms in the world. That one's in the Ultra-Low Noise Labs at the University of Bristol, where "Losing all auditory references does funny things to your balance, and I lurch slightly as the double doors open to let me out. It's a relief to hear the faint underlying buzz that indicates life as we know it."
Sadly, although it looks the part, the reading room in the Reference section of Bristol Central Library is usually a caophony of irritations. I'm not sure what took the prize today: the burglar alarm going off outside for ages, the stertorous snoring, the queues of people trying to get 10p pieces for the photocopier like it was still 1985, the angry researcher trying to get a porter along to rouse and tick off the stertorous snorer...
In between all this I read through the letters of the Reverend W A Ayton, alchemist of the Golden Dawn, once described by W B Yeats as "the most panic-stricken person" he had ever known. I think he'd have had to read in Bristol Central Library it might have tipped him over the edge...
(I should temper this critique by at least oberving that the librarians are themselves uniformly friendly and helpful.)
The chambers were apparently once the entrance to the castle's great hall. Historic England has this section of the castle at 13-14th century
I was interested to see it, but a little underwhelmed, if I'm honest. A fairly bland interior and a perfectly adequate flat white—not much "wow" factor.
I recently indulged myself by buying a little piece of history. I've mentioned Samuel Loxton and featured and linked to his drawings before, often in the eminently browsable Loxton Collection albums that Bristol Libraries has on Flickr. So when I saw a Loxton drawing of Hotwells pop up on eBay, I decided to get myself a little treat.
I don't think there's any Loxton drawing that features the road I actually live in—it's not very visible from anywhere else, not being one of these Clifton terraces that's perched at the top of a hill, or anything like that, and it's invisible in most views of the area. However, this Loxton drawing, Hotwells, Looking across the river from near the Clifton Bridge station, is probably the closest near-miss I've seen.
I decided to wander out one morning and see if I could reproduce the picture, and also take a photo or two of what's now become of the Clifton Bridge Station, which is still just about discernible in places.
(Then on an even stranger whim I decided to check out a possible little cut-through from Cumberland Road to the harbourside I'd been eyeing up on my commute to work, so walked to Wapping Wharf for a croissant via this potential new route, but that bit's not quite as interesting...)
I'd broadly planned to figure out the vantage point Loxton had used for his drawing by lining up Windsor Terrace with The Paragon, so I started taking bearings fairly early.
Every now and again some speedboat pops under Merchants Road Bridge and does a few quick loops of the Cumberland Basin. I guess that either they're allowed to go fast on the basin or they know they can get away with it...
I think this was about my best attempt to match the Loxton angle. The fact that my photo still has the edge of Entrance Lock in it suggests that Loxton's drawing was taken from a little further downstream, but there are trees there now, obscuring the view.
Much of the buildings further back are unchanged, as you can see, especially Windsor Terrace to the left and The Paragon middle top. The diagonal rise of Freeland Place is still there, too. What's mostly changed is the closer road, where a chunk of Hotwells, including the houses and Cumberland Hall you can see in the Loxton drawing, was swept away for the Cumberland Road flyover system. This probably also explains why there aren't so many pedestrians just enjoying the scenery—it's much noisier there now.
Here's a similar angle to my earlier attempt at recreating the Loxton view, only with a framing that gives a bit more detail of the buildings.
Here's a sign of the times: a petrol station that's out of petrol. According to the BBC, the current petrol supply crisis is still biting in the south of England, but easing elsewhere in the country.
I've got about 50 miles' worth of petrol in my Mini right now, but my car is a luxury rather than a necessity, and that amount could last me months at my current average rate of consumption, so I'm not planning on panic-buying, personally...
Hurrah! Cumberland Road is fully closed again, this time apparently for stabilisation works on the Chocolate Path, one of my favourite footpaths in Bristol, whcih has been closed since even before part of it actually fell into the river.
That there is an actual plan to re-open the path, that it's got funding, and that work is being done are all good signs, but I'm still trying not to hold my breath. This path's been closed since 2016. (And the entire new cut didn't take this long to dig in the first place...)
Which is why swapping to this side of the river seemed like a good plan. Coronation Road is bloody noisy at the best of times, and it's currently got all of Cumberland Road's traffic diverted down it.
Docks Heritage Weekend Day One
09 Oct 2021
I could spend a lot of time at the Docks Heritage Weekend, poking my nose into industrial places along the harbourside that are usually closed off, but throw open their doors once a year to show off a bit of the backstage area of Bristol's floating harbour. In fact, I warn you: the next wander is a long one, and will have quite a few photos.
However, for today's wander, on the Saturday, my friend Lisa needed a shorter walk than our usual long rambles, as she's recovering from an operation and still a little under the weather, so we just wandered into town for some food and back, with me making mental notes of the places I wanted to come back to on the Sunday... We walked through Underfall Yard, along to the L Shed (this is the warehouse next to the M Shed museum, where they still have the kind of fun old industrial stuff that used to be crammed into the M Shed's predecessor, the old Industrial Museum), through the street food market in town to Ahh Toots for cake and then back home. So, still quite a walk, but no hills and not so much of Lisa having to hang around waiting for me to fool around taking photos as usual, at least...
The Patent Slip is actually a grade II listed building. Personally I live in a II*-graded building myself; not sure I'd want to slum it down here.
They're among the first to show autumn colour in Bristol, so by early October they're in full effect.
I thought it was a real Concorde nose at first, because I'm sure they used to have one in the Industrial Museum that was replaced by the M Shed. Lisa quickly pointed out the plywood shell. Apparently it was used for prototyping cockpit layouts. One day I may pop along to Aerospace Bristol to have a (big, white, pointy) nose around the real thing.
I figured I'd try a bit of street photography, seeing as there were actually people around. This isn't bad for a from-the-hip shot, but I'm a bit out of practice, as you'd expect.
Of course, it's not on the quay any more, because they moved the quay. However, St Mary's Facebook page has at least one picture of it from when this strip of the city centre was still the river.
I wasn't expecting to see a train carriage in the Lloyds amphitheare. Apparently it's got something to do with Stephen Merchant's new drama The Outlaws. They're filming some of it down at my end of the harbour soon, too; I've had a letter through the door about night shoots that'll be closing sections of the Hotwell Road.
I'm afraid that this is a bit of a badly-curated wander, where I mostly just popped out to find out a little of the history of Underfall Yard and poke around the various open workshops, and, in hindsight, really didn't take pictures in any kind of coherent order. So there's a lot of pictures, but they don't really tell the story that, in hindsight, I seem to have been trying to tell, of the unusual electrical substation in Avon Crescent, the Bristol Electricity that predates the National Grid but is still in use, the history of the hydraulic power house... It's a bit of a mess.
But I suppose sometimes these wanders—always chronologically presented in the order I walked and took photos—simply will sometimes be a bit of a mess. Let's hope you still get something out of it, anyway...
It's very hard to get a decent look at this building. This is the top half of the back of it.
You can see this once apparently bright and airy building has had every window bricked up.
I understand that something in or around this building still supplies the odd electrical requirements (specifically, 360V "Bristol voltage") for some bits of Underfall Yard, which is our next stop, so more about that when we get there.
While it's not a listed building, is is notable: it's one of the earliest reinforced concrete buildings in the UK, apparently, construction starting in 1905. I assume it was up by 1907, as that's when Undefall Yard installed their electric pumps.
This oddity of history predates the National Grid and was originally fed from Feeder Road power station (well, Avonbank, on Feeder Road, to be precise. We've seen a bit of that history before, as a line marker for the line from Portishead to Feeder Road.) It was connected to Feeder Road by 1906, with a 6,600V line.
I've added a couple of historic views of the building as the next two photos in the wander, but I'll also pop this link to a Loxton drawing of the Avonbank electricity works, 1908 here.
And here's the Loxton picture of the exterior, from the Bristol Libraries collection. Seems such a shame to have bricked up those lovely windows.
Most of the gear in this docks machine room is belt driven from a motor we'll see in a bit. The motor is electric but the drive system is pretty much the same as it was in the days of steam.
