I've been pretty awful at reading so far this year, apparently averaging about one book per month. That's a far cry from 2019, say, where I got through 41 books in the year. Today's wander was prompted by my rubbish reading, as I needed to go hand back some books to the library, because I'd managed to renew them so many times that I hit the limit on renewals. Oops. Several of them were still unread.
So, off to the Central Library for me, tail between my legs. On the way there I did my best to recreate a historical photo of Dowry Square; while I was in the area I walked under the adjacent Norman arch and poked around behind the Cathedral, and I also had a little diversion to the city centre and came back along the south side of the river, hitting some trouble with the lock gates as I finally crossed the harbour back towards home.
This was the poster on the A-board at the head of the alley that leads to the Centrespace Gallery, and is usually worth a look. It wasn't particularly eyecatching, though, with an A4 poster rather lost in the middle of the much larger board...
I'm in the habit of going over to the Tobacco Factory Market on a Sunday. I think I've walked all the routes around that way, but as a Plimsoll Bridge swing let me cross the road to the far side of Brunel Way on my return journey and I took a couple of photos of the brownfield development at the old Ashton Gate Depot site I thought I'd call it a Wander and pop some photos up.
Veg from the Tobacco Factory farm shop in my Idler tote and a market croissant to go with my Coffee #1 iced latte, I feel only the need to sit on a bench and read a Saul Bellow novel to fully sink into my Southville hipster character. I should probably have ridden a penny farthing here and bought some chia seeds.
I walked back to the point I'd spotted all this activity from the far side of the road. This is the old tile merchant/concrete works/Ashton Gate Railway Depot/Bristol International Exhibition site. I imagine it was plenty of other things along the way, too. Here's an earlier snap with a bad photo from the far side of the site, but some detail on what the site was/will be along with a link to planning documents.
I'm currently toying with the idea of a little mini-website that takes a digitised and vectorised version of the Bristol International Exhibition plan (from 1914) and superimposes it on the same area today. It'd be interesting to see exactly where things were. My best guess from eyeballing it at the moment is that in 1914, this view would be looking towards the International Pavilion, Concert Hall and Art Gallery areas of the Exhibition, and we'd be standing on the train tracks that used to head for Ashton Avenue Bridge, which back then would have been a double-decker road and rail swing bridge, with the trains on the ground level deck, the road on the top deck, and a high-level swing control room above it all. Quite some feat of engineering.
It's been a long while since I did one of these walks.
I'm thinking of finishing up the project by walking one or two last bits of road, thus being able to declare with all honesty that I've done my best to walk every public road within my mile (and quite a few alleyways besides.) As a prelude, and just because I felt like it, I decided to drag out the camera and GPS on this little wander to the local shops.
Also looking nice and fresh since my last wander is the pair of community noticeboards, with a plethora of local news.
I found out recently that I was a winnner of one of the Hotwells & Cliftonwood Community Association 500 club prizes, which, alongside my membership, is a fun way to give money to the local organisation that puts up these noticeboards and does so much else for the community.
An enormous walk today, or at least it felt enormous. My feet are sore, anyway. I started off recreating a couple of local historical photos in Hotwells, but then headed for my traditional walk along the towpath in the Avon Gorge to the far extreme of Leigh Woods, up and through the woods to the height of the Suspension Bridge, finally crossing into Clifton Village for a well-deserved vanilla latte.
I say "traditional" because this used to be a very regular route for me, first walking, years and years ago, and later jogging—this route combined with a circuit of the Downs on the other side used to be my way of making sure I was fit to do a half-marathon (I did six of them in total, between 2010 and 2014).
I miss the routine of this walk, even though it's a long way and it used to pretty much wipe me out when I did it—I'd come back home and collapse and do very little for the rest of the day. But perhaps that's what Sundays are for, and I should try to remember that.
Doing this walk regularly was quite a meditative experience. Not so much of that today, but once I got to the further extreme of the towpath, where the roar of the Portway traffic on the other side of the river dwindles and I turned into Leigh Woods to climb ever closer to birdsong and further from rushing cars, I did seem to recapture a little of the feeling of previous walks. (I would say my mind cleared, but I was mentally singing along to Life Without Buildings' The Leanover for most of the wander. There are worse songs to have stuck in one's head, though; it's a great track...)
Anyway. Apparently the walk made me more likely to ramble in words, too. I'll stop now :)
Presumably this is how David Icke views the British monarchy.
(It's Queen Lizzie, by sledone.)