Tagged: neighbourhood
My goal is walk down every public road within a mile of me; sometimes it's not easy to tell what's public. I've passed the turning for Cornwallis Grove a thousand times, but never had a reason to venture down it, and although the street signs at the end seem to be council-deployed and I didn't spot any "private" signs, it's a gated road and definitely feels private.
Gathering all the white middle-class privilege I could muster, I wandered down and was rewarded with the sight of a Victorian pump, a statue of Jesus, and from the end of the road, a view of a private garden that once belonged to a private girls' school.
The Cornwallis House history page says:
In the early 20th century the house, together with Grove House, became a Catholic school, St Joseph’s High School for Girls.
The Congregation of La Retraite took over the school in 1924, with the nuns living in Grove House while the schoolrooms were
in Cornwallis House. The headmistress was Mother St Paul de la Croix (Sister Paula Yerby). By the 1970s La Retraite High
School had around 700 pupils.It closed in 1982 and the building was bought by Pearce Homes Ltd (now part of Crest Nicholson) who developed it into 21
flats. Grove House next door was bought by the Bristol Cancer Help Centre, and was later converted into flats in 2007.
Glendale. One of those streets that's just around the corner from me, but that doesn't take me anywhere I ever need to be, so I've probably only walked up it half a dozen times in the couple of decades I've lived here.
I've only been in there once, and I didn't like it. Every pub deserves some sympathy in the current trying circumstances, though.
Some days I barely notice this view, but if the light's right when I'm coming home I find it stunning.
A local walk with my friend Lisa in tow, including a coffee from the cafe in the Clifton Observatory, where I have fond memories of experiencing my first camera obscura, and cake from Twelve in Clifton Village, one of my favourite recent finds for both food and flat whites.
Awarded the prize, apparently, "for his development of the photographic method of studying nuclear processes and for the resulting discovery of the pion." So a fellow photographer, I suppose. I tend to favour larger targets, though.
This started as a little local walk with my friend Lisa, but when we randomly met my friends Sarah and Vik at Ashton Court, turned into joining them for a very long wander out to Abbots Leigh Pool. Most of this was well outside my one-mile radius but it was a lovely walk.
My friend Sarah mentioned the high tide and I managed to drag myself out early, though still a little late. We nearly drowned in torrential rain, but the weather changed quickly and we ended up walking over to Bedminster in sunshine.
A walk back from Bedminster to my place, mostly down Duckmoor Road, which I found a little dull—probably because it reminded me a little of the suburbs I grew up in on the outskirts of London—then held up slightly by some filming on Ashton Avenue Bridge. They were trying not to let the crowds build up too much in between takes, it seems, so it wasn't a long delay.
This is a one-way street. Vehicles can only drive up this hill from wehre that silver car is coming around the corner (also a one-way street). How did anyone manage to knock over the railings on the inside of the curve?
A quick lunchtime jaunt to Dowry Square, which is very close to me but, being effectively a cul-de-sac as well as a square, I've probably only circumnavigated a couple of times in the last couple of decades.
I never need to walk down Polygon Road or Dowry Road. I couldn't say I've not been down these streets at all before the One Mile Matt project, but if I have it's been vanishingly rare and so long ago I don't remember it.
I hope the Bear survives. It's a bit too sport-oriented for my taste, but they've been welcoming the couple of times I've been in.
It looks like the fish & chip shop might be getting a refurb, and the restaurant at the end, which used to be a great Persian place is apparently now a great Indian place. The bow-fronted place in the middle was a small "corner" shop for years, but there's barely any more space in there than there is in my living room so it must've been hard to keep it going. That closed down four or five years ago, I think.
In between the fish & chip shop (if you look really closely at the door on the right-hand-shop you might see the centre pane has a stained-glass fish in it) and the defuct newsgent/grocer is an architect. I can't imagine they get a lot of passing trade, but they've been there for a while so presumably it suits them...
I looked at a flat in the ex-council flats that makes up the far half of this block of the Hotwell Road before finally settling on the more old-fashioned place I live now, not far from here.
A fruitless wander, as Spoke and Stringer (who I thought might do a decent flat white) were closed, and the only other harbourside inlet offering were a bit too busy to wait at, especially as I'd spent some time wandering some of the convolutions of Rownham Mead. This last congeries of dull alleyways and brown-painted garages was at least somewhere I've never been before, in parts.
I don't spend a lot of time in pubs, but if I had to choose a "local", this is the one I would choose. Welcoming, interesting, and often to be found with a nice fire burning in the winter. After the last time some fool drove their car through the front wall (this bend on the Hotwell Road appears to be a magnet for bad drivers), the boarding up was decorated with the bonnet badge of the offending vehicle, a Toyota, if I remember correctly.
I've walked along the Hotwell Road on the other side of this wall a thousand times—possibly ten thousand. Never seen this side of it before.
A lot of folks aren't fans of the architecture at Poole's Wharf, but I'd love to live in one of these houses.
I hope Romany and Chaz are doing okay. I had cakes here as part of my 40th birthday celebrations, followed by a cruise in the Bristol Packet boat Bagheera.
It never look that reputable, even when it was a going concern. Converted to flats in 2001, according to the excellent resource Bristol's Lost Pubs.
In which our intrepid hero levels up.
A sunny day, and though I should have probably headed for less well-travelled territory I just headed over to the Marina to grab a flat white from Imagine That's horsebox café.
What, should I keep clear from this side? I'm assuming that this doesn't actually affect anything on dry land...
Just a quick wander up the hill to get a flat white from Twelve. I really enjoyed the spooky mannequin (?) in the window.
The one nearest is an AirB&B-style rental and looks lovely inside. This is the kind of quirkiness I might aspire to.
Many a time have I wandered down this little cut-through that joins Saville Place and the Fosseway. A shortcut through the Polygon starts me off, then it's pretty much a straight line up through to here and on to Queen's Road.
From what I can work out, this terrace that starts in the road called Richmond Terrace itself continues around the corners to Clifton Road and here, Queens Road, while still being called Richmond Terrace.
I mentioned to Christopher Fowler that I'd always thought this pub sign would be a good murder weapon for one of the Bryant and May books, but of course he mostly deals in London, not Bristol.