Tagged: fixture
Just a quick trip to Imagine That for a flat white and a date ball (they're really nice), snapping the general sights along the way. No new roads, as has rapidly become the default on my lunchtime wanders, but as I'm in the routine of this project it almost seems strange not to pop my wanders up on the site.
I've not had one yet this year. It's still a bit chilly for me to indulge in iced drinks.
I went rather outside my area today, as I went to pick something up from the Warhammer shop on Wine Street (Games Workshop as-was, and before that I think perhaps a rare retail outlet for Her Majesty's Stationery Office? I may be mis-remembering...) Anyway, a friend of mine wanted something picking up and posting to him, so I figured I'd knock some streets off my list along the way.
I first headed for the St George's Road area, walking down the narrow Brandon Steps and finding some strange wall art on Brandon Steep, then headed to the Old City via Zed Alley. The Warhammer shop visit was friendly and efficient, and, mission accomplished, I treated myself to a sausage roll and a flat white from Spicer + Cole, to take away and eat in Queen Square with its current decoration of hearts. I finished off with a detour up Park Street, looking out for St John's Conduit markers, before finally crossing Brandon Hill on the way home.
Quite a long wander, all told, and I'm a bit knackered today...
Rescued from dereliction by a project that added an extension for extra accommodation, turning it into a viable conversion to flats, apparently. The architects involved were Ferguson Mann, co-founded by George Ferguson, first person to serve in the capacity of Bristol's directly-elected mayor.
The problem with doing a little circuit anywhere in this bit of Bristol is that you typically travel further vertically than horizontally.
Obviously, I was trying to connect to the industrial history of the Canon's Marsh area, to the old gasworks, the docks railway, the warehouses they blew up to make way for all the rather soulless modern stuff (though I do like the Lloyds building, at least.) But what I mostly got out of today's walk is a new cafe to go to for my lunchtime outings. It's perhaps a little closer than both Imagine That and Hopper Coffee; not quite as close as Foliage and Twelve up in Clifton Village, but also not at the top of a steep hill.
No, not the mediocre Costa, but only a little way away from there: Rod and Ruby's, which opened in 2018 and which I've seen in passing several times but never popped into until today. What can I say? I was foolish. Great flat white, lovely interior, astoundingly good cannoli.
Sometimes you just have to get your head out of history and enjoy a pastry.
I really must poke my nose in and see if there's anything more than the apparently-tiny couryard back there.
I suppose it's appropriate for the Canon's Marsh area. I wonder if they considered spelling it with one "n".
Don't know what this place is, but if they're storing their booze in 1000-litre IBCs they must be quite hardcore...
I was trying to find the Endoscopy centre's back door for a visual pun, but the only one they've got the sign on is the side door, which is far less funny. Still, I tried.
Bits of Entrance Lock have been coned off for ages, mostly the area with the lockkeepers' house on it. My friends Sarah and Vik mentioned at the weekend that it had recently been un-coned, so I wandered that way to cross the outermost lockgates for the first time this year. I don't know whether it's just my mood today or the weather, but it seemed a day for pushing a couple of photos in a more experimental direction in the post-processing...
Another quick excursion to Canon's Marsh, tempted back by Rod & Ruby's cannoli and flat white. This time I poked around some bits of the modern flats I'd not really experienced before, mused on the old gasworks, and headed back down the Hotwell Road, spotting a re-opening gallery and finishing off at the Adam & Eve, for which some locals are currently rushing to launch a bid to turn it into a community business rather than have a developer turn it into yet-more flats.
I was in a bouncy, positive mood, helped out by Life Without Buildings' Live at the Annandale Hotel album1. Note to self, though: the album is nearly an hour long, so if you hear the encore starting and you're still halfway down the Hotwell Road, you'll probably be late back from lunch...
1 That review's well worth a read. Music journalists tend to go extra-dreamy when trying to describe Sue Tompkins. See what I mean:
She circles her limber tongue-twisters, feints, and attacks from unexpected angles, dicing and rearranging them with the superhuman brio of an anime ninja and a telegraphic sense of lexical rhythm.
I'm sure when they were getting the idea of this place past the planning committee there was probably a higher ratio of public art to wheelie bins.
Back in the beforetimes, you'd often glimpse Lloyds employees working out in the company gym on the way past.
There's a community bid just starting to buy this mid-18th-Century pub and run it as a community pub/bakery/whatever rather than the current plan to turn it into yet more flats (it's being auctioned with planning permission.)
Given that I've heard from a couple of previous owners that half the problem with keeping it going as a pub was that the building's in terrible condition and needs a lot of repairs, whoever takes it on will have their work cut out for them. I've just signed up to chip in some money for the community bid, at least.
It's a tough sell as a pub during the summer, when there are good outdoor alternatives all around the harbour close by, but it was always a good winter pub, and if it could do what many enterprising places are doing at the moment and turn itself into a pub that was also a general store or a bakery, or what-have-you I think it could be a goer.
I didn't get to all the little leftover streets around the northeastern part of my area in today's wander, but I definitely knocked a few off the list, plus Lisa and I enjoyed the walk, and didn't get rained on too badly. We spotted the hotting-up of Wisteria season, checked out Birdcage Walk (both old and new), ventured onto the wrong side of the tracks1 and generally enjoyed the architecture.
1 Well, technically we probably shouldn't have been on the grounds of those retirement flats, but nobody started chasing us around the garden with a Zimmer frame
Many people use the cut-through from Alma Vale Road through to the side door to Clifton Down Shopping Centre, up these delightful concrete steps.
The full version of 1985 cult cyberpunk film Max Headroom: 20 Minutes Into the Future seems to be available on YouTube.
I'm meant to be taking a little break from this project, but in my Victoria Square researches after my last walk I noticed a curiosity I wanted to investigate. The community layer on Know Your Place has a single photograph captioned, "The remains of an 'underpass' in Victoria Square".
Looking back through the maps, I could see that there really did used to be an underpass across what used to be Birdcage Walk. I can only guess that it was there to join the two halves of the square's private garden that used to be separated by tall railings that were taken away during WWII. Maybe it was a landscaping curiosity, maybe it was just to save them having to un-lock and re-lock two gates and risk mixing with the hoi polloi on the public path in the middle...
Anyway. Intrigued, I popped up to Clifton Village this lunchtime for a post-voting coffee, and on the way examined the remains of the underpass—still there, but only if you know what you're looking for, I'd say—and also visited a tiny little road with a cottage and a townhouse I'd never seen before, just off Clifton Hill, and got distracted by wandering the little garden with the war memorial in St Andrew's churchyard just because the gate happened to be open.
EDIT: Aha! Found this snippet when I was researching something completely different, of course. From the ever-helpful CHIS website:
When there were railings all round the garden and down the central path, in order that the children could play together in either garden there was a tunnel for them to go through. This was filled in during the 1970s but almost at the south east end of the path if one looks over the low wall the top of the arches can still be seen.
The side-door to the Arcade pops out almost next door to Twelve, one of my favourite cafes in Clifton Village. You can also access their (and other café's) back gardens through the door just out of sight, opposite the bottom of the stairs there. Those stairs lead up to the pub next door, from what I remember.
I saw this tweet the other day and started thinking of my second Covid-19 vaccination as my "Sequel Injection" (to a geek, it's funny. You'll have to take my word for it.) Whatever you call it, this morning I went and got it.
It was in the same place I got my initial injection—my left arm! No, okay, it was at the Clifton College Prep School. I didn't take any photos of the event itself; the NHS production line is so efficient you barely have time to do anything else, even if the privacy of other patients wasn't a factor.
Along the way I mused at all the road resurfacing going on in Clifton, and also discovered a secret (okay, not-well-known and possibly slightly trespassey) way into Canynge Square, and on the way back I knocked off a few streets from my "leftovers list" of north-east Clifton. I've got much of Clifton done now, with the only obvious "to dos" on the east side of Whiteladies Road...
It was quite a long walk, and I'm feeling pretty tired now, though that might be the effects of the jab too, I suppose. Anyway. Tomorrow and Monday I'm walking outside Bristol, I think, and I imagine my feet will need some recovery time on Sunday, so it might be a while before I post another Wander.
Interestingly, I could definitely hear the sounds of running heavy machinery coming from this building, so I guess the original pump house might still house the modern pumping machinery.
I wanted to take another snap of an interesting Gothic Revival place in Clifton, having found out a bit more about the owner. On the way I walked through the Clifton Vale Close estate, idly wondering again whether it might've been the site of Bristol's Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens (I've not researched further yet.) On the way back I knocked off the last remaining bit of Queens Road I had yet to walk and tried to find the bit of communal land that Sarah Guppy bought so as not to have her view built on...
The swan's impressive, but also the effort involved in making all those origami cubes hung on strings. I wonder if it's a lockdown hobby? Perhaps they'd have been better off trying for one thousand origami cranes...
...lived here. You may remember seeing her gravestone in St Andrew's Churchyard...
Her Wikipedia entry notes:
She bought the land opposite the house for the benefit of Clifton residents and it still remains green space
While there is some green space opposite, it looks very private and seems to belong to Edgecumbe Hall (sometimes spelled Edgecombe, it seems...)
CHIS's Communal Gardens web page says:
Richmond Hill Gardens. ca 1830 This forms a key visual feature at the top of the triangle. There are specimens of at least 23 tree species, including a magnificent Weeping Beech, the finest in the city, and a Redwood, which is an offshoot of a tree cut down twenty years ago. The land was bought by Sarah Guppy (1770-1857) an inventor and designer who was consulted by Brunel. She lived in Richmond Hill and did not want any building opposite, so bought the land and made it communal. For many years it was a nursery garden but now it has become a well hidden car park for those houses to which it is attached.
...and lists it under "Private Communal Gardens", so I suppose it's not public, but it is communally-owned (and likely to have a covenant against building?) Seems a bit of a shame it's ended up as a car-park.
I just nipped up to Clifton Village to get a coffee, though I did manage to walk down a little alleyway I'd not really noticed before. Or perhaps I had noticed it and it looked private, but today I felt like wandering up its twenty or so feet anyway... The reflections in the shop windows on Boyce's Avenue gave me the idea to take a few snaps of them, so that's the majority of my small amount of snapping today.
Not that you can get much of a view of it with a little camera and with it behind a bunch of netting. Looks rather friable. Apparently it was part of a scheme to attract Queen Victoria to visit that never came to fruition.