25 Jul 2021
The far east of the intersection of my one-mile radius and Bedminster, anyway. I was feeling a bit tired this morning, so I motivated myself to get out of the door by imagining one of Mokoko's almond croissants. That got me on my way, and I wandered across to Bedminster, through Greville Smyth Park, along most of the length of North Street (looking out for new Upfest 75-pieces-in-75-days artwork as I went) and then onto some new roads at the far end.
I only wanted to knock a few streets off my "to do" list, but by the time I'd diverted here and there to check out various bits of graffiti and other attractions and come back via the aforementioned purveyors of Bristol's finest croissants, I'd walked 7.4km. Not bad for someone who woke up tired, and at least I've done something with my day. I'm very glad the weather broke (we had tremendous thunderstorms yesterday), even if some of the pictures might've looked better with a blue sky. I was getting fed up with walking around in 29°C heat...
I actually managed to tempt myself out of the door this morning by imagining one of Mokoko's almond croissants. It's always nice when one's dreams become reality.
17 Oct 2021
For the first time in a while, I had the time and energy to go further afield and knock off some new roads from my "to do" list. I headed through the first Hotwells Festival to Ashton and Bedminster to cross off a few of the suburban roads south of North Street.
First, though, I decided to try to reproduce an old photo of the now-demolished Rownham Hotel just around the corner from where I live...
31 Oct 2021
There were only a few streets left to wander in the more residential bit of Bedminster, so I thought I should target those today. The streets themselves weren't that notable, though Balfour Road has a contrasting mix of old and new housing. I tried to snap a few more interesting things along the way there and back, snapping all three of the familiar bond warehouses, nipping onto North Street to find some new street art, and finding a few pumpkins for good measure. It is hallowe'en, after all...
18 Apr 2022
I didn't really set out with a theme of flowers and gardens in mind for this walk. I just fancied heading up to Clifton Village to get lunch. As it turned out, though, Spring was springing, so a minor theme emerged as I started off with the graveyard flowers of Hope Chapel and wandered up to see the beginnings of the new wildflower garden at Clifton Hill Meadow.
It didn't seem likely that there was a large scattering of windfall apples in Victoria Square. In April. Under a pine tree. On closer inspection, they had plastic supermarket stickers on them, so I think they're unlikely to have fallen from anywhere local...
05 Jun 2022
Another day not dissimilar to my last wander: I'm feeling a bit tired and rather than just moping around the house I thought I'd find some tiny bit of somewhere that I'd not yet walked and get outdoors. This time I headed for the Tobacco Factory Market in Bedminster, as I often do, but went the long way around via Ashton Court Mansion as I knew there were some footpaths and a small section of road I'd not ticked off up there. Finishing all the Ashton Court footpaths will be quite a long job, but you've got to start somewhere...
I did feel rather better by the time I got home, and, pretty much astoundingly given the weather forecast, managed to avoid the rain completely.
"We've just taken a giant order before you, so there might be a wait," said the server at Kind Regards Coffee when I ordered my flat white.
"Not to worry," I said, I've got a giant arancini to eat while I wait."
Once I'd said this I wondered about my grammar—presumably "arancini" was plural, so what was singular? "Anrancino", I guessed, and was apparently wrong. According to Wikipedia, it is, of course, more complicated than you'd expect:
The corresponding singular is either the masculine arancinu or the feminine arancina. The eastern side of Sicily tends to use the masculine form, while the western side tends to use the feminine form.
As to the etymology:
Arancini derives from the Sicilian plural diminutive of aranciu ('orange'), from their shape and colour which, after cooking, is reminiscent of an orange.
Can't really argue with that; it's pretty bloody orange, and orange-sized. And it was absolutely glorious, all crisp and crunchy on the outside and warm and delicious on the inside. I think the stall was called Ciccio's, and I commend them to you heartily.