Tagged: old-city
I got interested in Bristol's medieval water supplies after poking around near Jacobs Wells Road and Brandon Hill. It was during that research I found out about a pipe that's still there today, and, as far as I know, still actually functioning, that was originally commissioned by Carmelite monks in the 13th century. They wanted a supply of spring water from Brandon Hill to their priory on the site of what's now the Bristol Beacon—Colston Hall, as-was. It was created around 1267, and later, in 1376, extended generously with an extra "feather" pipe to St John's On The Wall, giving the pipework its modern name of "St John's Conduit".
St John's on the Wall is still there, guarding the remaining city gate at the end of Broad Street, and the outlet tap area was recently refurbished. It doesn't run continuously now, like it did when I first moved to Bristol and worked at the end of Broad Street, in the Everard Building, but I believe the pipe still functions. One day I'd like to see that tap running...
There are a few links on the web about the pipe, but by far the best thing to do is to watch this short and fascinating 1970s TV documentary called The Hidden Source, which has some footage of the actual pipe and also lots of fantastic general footage of Bristol in the seventies.
On my walk today I was actually just going to the building society in town, but I decided to trace some of the route of the Carmelite pipe, including visiting streets it runs under, like Park Street, Christmas Street, and, of course, Pipe Lane. I also went a bit out of my way to check out St James' Priory, the oldest building in Bristol, seeing as it was just around the corner from the building society.
There are far too many pictures from this walk, and my feet are now quite sore, because it was a long one. But I enjoyed it.
Lots of info in the Wikipedia entry.
As you can probably tell, it's built into the original medieval city walls.
It's been restored since then, quite recently. It was very shabby before.
Apparently St John's conduit is currently in working order, having been painstakingly fixed on many occasions over the centuries since 1267, including very recently, so presumably there's a tap head somewhere in the church that could turn it on and give you a taste of water from the spring all the way up Park Street.
This is quite a feat of medieval engineering, as the pipes run both down and uphill in places, using a siphoning action to carry the water back uphill around the Pipe Street area (which is, indeed, named for the original water pipe.)
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.
Okay, so given that the library won't be open until 1pm I need to kill some time. I decided to have a mooch around the "old city" area.
Here I noticed a newish specialist darts club, apparently. Can't for the life of me remember what was at 41 Corn Street before this appeared.
My boss plays darts, but given how accident-prone she is it would take some convincing for me to enter a room where she was both drinking and in charge of throwable pointy objects.
A fairly wrong clock, given that I took this at about 12:40. This used to be the Midland Bank.
Pause for a moment first to admire the frieze and the acanthus-topped columns, but then check out the clock. It's not far off the right time, which is unusual for a public clock these days. But even a broken clock is right twice a day, right? Not this one—it would still be right four times a day, as it's got an extra minute hand. Before time was standardised across the country, this clock would show both local time and "Railway Time", i.e. Greenwich Mean Time.
It's directly over the entrance to Saint Nicholas Market, formely the Corn Exchange, but sadly they're closed on Sundays, so I couldn't take my usual wander through.
The Mother's Ruin and Seamus O'Donnell's, just to the left here, are both good pubs. Sandwiched in between them at the moment is Shall Not Fade, who sell plants, vinyl records and clothes. The also, apparently, run a record label and a festival. I was tempted by a calathea, but I didn't want to be carrying it around for the next couple of hours. I'll have to come back another day.
It's a cocktail bar inspired by the occult in general and the Tarot in particular, apparently. It's by the same people behind Hyde's, which I remember enjoying very much on the couple of occasions I've made it there.
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...
