10 Jul 2021
Lisa had a couple of hours to spare before going up in a hot air balloon (exciting!) so we went for a quick local walk, revisiting a bit of Cliftonwood we've seen before, exploring the secret garden I'd visited before that I thought she'd enjoy (I didn't take any new photos there) and then pushing on to another garden, Cherry Garden. Last time we passed this way, I'd noticed the gate, but we hadn't gone in as I'd assumed it was private. I'd since found it on CHIS's list of communal gardens in Clifton, so I wanted to have a look inside this time, and try to figure out whether it was private-communal or public, and possibly Council-owned, like several of the other gardens in Clifton.
Using boots and shoes as flowerpots is a bit of a Cliftonwood signature, it seems.
I'm assuming it doesn't get opened much, or there'd be a little more pruning going on. Still, very pretty for a garage...
We've also seen Sydney Row, Upper Sydney Street and Sydney Garages on previous wanders.
13 Jul 2021
A snappy little trip up the Zig Zag to the shops. It's a steep old route, the Zig Zag, going from just over river level to about the height of the suspension bridge (101 metres) in a compact switchback of a footpath.
I was too busy struggling to breathe to take many snaps of the actual Zig Zag (I've been trying to make it up all the way without stopping the last few times, but I've not quite managed it yet). I did at least take a few snaps either side on this quick lunchtime jaunt to fetch coffee (Coffee #1) and a sarnie (Parsons) from Clifton Village...
But I don't think it's the original end -- if you check this picture from a history pamphlet I posted on Twitter you'll see that it looks like the Colonnade used to curve around rather more, and there's an even better view on this drawing from the British Library collection of Hotwell Parade. Looking at the historic basemap layers there on KYP it certainly seems like sometime between 1855 and 1874 (both Ashmead maps) the first couple of houses in the terrace were lopped off, leaving only numbers 3, 4, 5 and 6. I imagine they were shaved off at the same time as the second Hot Well House was demolished, which was in 1867. It used to stand on Hotwell Point, sticking out into the river, and the whole lot was removed to ease navigation.
I've never actually looked at the Colonnade door numbers to see if they're still like that—I'll try to remember the next time I pass.
I will always enjoy the fact that Brunel looks out from this window. Have I ever noticed the smaller figure in the lower-left corner? Maybe it's new...
When climbing the Zig Zag it's helpful only to focus on where you are, rather than how far you've got left to go.
Apparently one of the reasons that collections are being missed (this lot's been on Albermarle Row for nearly a fortnight) is a shortage of drivers. There's a general HGV driver shortage at the moment, as well as a backlog of testing for new drivers.
17 Jul 2021
Okay, not much in the way of actual pasture to be had in Bedminster these days, like most of Bristol, but I did take advantage of the current rather toasty weather in Bristol to go and sit under a tree in Greville Smyth Park to read a book for a while before firing up the GPS and taking a little detour around some back streets of Ashton and Bedminster rather than going straight to Coffee #1 for an espresso frappé. This is the first walk in a while where I've actually crossed off an entire new street (the frankly unexciting Carrington Road) as well as exploring a couple of back alleys, just because they were there, really. Along the way I spotted a few examples of graffiti of various qualities, including a live work-in-progress by SNUB23 on Ashton Road and the finished Six Sisters project on North Street.
It was actually the sound of Six Underground, the astoundingly good Sneaker Pimps number, coming from this direction that caught my ear before the in-progress mural caught my eye, but they both had the same source, as it turned out...
I'd noticed I'd missed this end bit of Durnford Street in previous wanders, so on my way to knocking off some full-length roads (and alleyways, as it turned out) I took a snap. It's not very prepossessing.
In my defence, this little alleyway/service road looked more like a road on the map. Still, seeing as I'm here...
With bonus transom. I thought I might have snapped the transom before, but I think I was thinking of this one.
They've not made much progress on repairing the Chocolate Path, sadly, but it seems they've at least got a budget and a green light now.
The entire New Cut only took five years to dig out, but on the other hand they had literally a thousand men on the job and I imagine several of them died. Probably have to be a bit more careful these days.
This is the end-stop for the Brunel swing bridge. Looks like someone's been doing a bit of restoration. I didn't actually check to see if it still had "HERE LYETH I K BRUNEL" carved on the back by some wag; I did at some point in the past...
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 had no idea this was part of the Monarch's Way, a modern route that tries to trace, as best it can, the path of King Charles II's escape following his defeat by Cromwell in 1651.
Best coffee on North Street, for my money. I made the practical choice and abstained, though, as it's hard to take photos with a coffee in one hand.
Keith Hopewell's piece is one that got vandalised a few days ago, apparently by someone who hates Upfest. It seems to be mostly intact, though, barring the bit in the bottom right (close-up next pic.) Perhaps it was mostly saved by the CCTV camera that appears to be growing out of the girl with her back to us's left leg...
I like this piece, especially the somewhat Samuri-looking robot/cyborg/whatever-he-is.
It says "BLACK METAL LIVES", apparently, and it seems like it might be some kind of comment on the Black Lives Matter movement, but it's not entirely clear what the motivation is, really, apart from not liking Upfest. "KILL UPFEST" was painted elsewhere.
There are obviously moral grey areas here, but for me I think the intent behind putting up the vast (commissioned and permitted/encouraged by the property owners) artworks from international artists that is Upfest is both creative and kind, and the scrawling over it with barely-understandable threatening bullshit is not, and I side with kindness.
I imagine that the person who daubed the crap over other people's art probably stays at home on rainy days and posts hate in the comments sections on newspaper websites instead.
31 Jul 2021
At the end of July I went to have a look around some of the private gardens opened up by the annual Green Squares and Secret Gardens event. Sadly it was compressed into a single day this year, for various Covid-related reasons, it seems, so I didn't get to poke around too many places. I went to:
And snapped a few things in between, too. It was a lovely day—a bit too hot, if anything—and it was interesting to get into a few places I'd only ever seen from the outside, especially The Paragon and Cornwallis gardens, which are the least visible to passing strangers of all of them.
Kicked off my Clifton "secret gardens" visit by attending a talk by Victoria Square's "oldest resident", who is 95 and has lived there all his life. He did mention his family name in passing, but I've got a memory like a sieve, and his name's not on the event details. Ah well.
He really brought the square to life, with memories of the children playing in the square, making their way between the two halves using the tunnel—which I learned also had enough room to store the gardener's equipment, so must have been bigger than I thought!—and with the oldest child having a garden key hanging around their neck on a bit of string, ready to use when each family used a distinctive sound—anything from a whistle to a cowbell—to call the kids back home. He also touched on delivery men, including horsedrawn milk carts that would fill maids' jusgs from their churns, and the Walls ice cream boy who would visit houses who had hung the distinctive "W" sign in their windows on a Sunday, and gave many other amazing details. I really wish I'd recorded the event.
Among other new tidbits I can recall:
The Victoria Square event was at 11am, and I didn't have a lot of energy, so hanging around until 2pm for the Richmond Terrace Garden to open would've been too much for me. Maybe next year! The event might be back up to the whole weekend by then, rather than being squeezed into a single day.
You can just about see the profile of Queen Victoria in the keystone; apparently it's the same image as used on the Penny Black.
I've been wanting to go through these gates for a while; you can only get tantalising glimpses of the listed extension from the bit of grass adjacent.
This is how the other half live—making sure that the Suspension Bridge is still there without having to leave one's boules court.
08 Aug 2021
This was a wide-ranging wander. I started off crossing the river to Bedminster, to walk a single little cul-de-sac, Hardy Avenue, that I'd managed to miss on at least one previous walk. Then, pausing only to explore a few back alleyways, I headed for a few destinations related mostly by the Hughes family, who I've been researching a little as part of background for a possible novel, as several of them were involved in the Stella Matutina.
However, mostly it's the artistic side of the family I wanted to explore today, as that's where most of their public history lies (as you might expect, there's often not much in the public record about the workings of an occult organisation.) First I visited College Green, where the façade of the Catch 22 Fish & Chip shop still bears the work of Catherine Edith Hughes. Then I wandered up to the top of Park Street to pop into the Clifton Arts Club's annual exhibition, as Catherine, her half-brother Donald, his wife Hope and at least two other Hugheses were members. Donald was chairman for 40 solid years; Hope was Secretary for eight, and Ellard and Margaret Hughes, two more Hughes siblings, were members along with Catherine.
Finally I walked home with a small diversion to Berkeley Square, to confirm the location of Donald Hughes's house by checking for a particular plaque by the front door.
I must admit I'm not entirely sure where all this research is really leading me, but I'm finding it quite interesting to bump across the faint lines of history that link the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, founded in 1888, to modern, quotidian Bristol.
This may be a more interesting view than you'd think at first sight. Whitemead and Winterstoke House, with Southbow House out of sight on the far side, were finished in 1962, as the post-War housing crisis continued. There's a fascinating article in the Bristol Post about them, especially Whitemead House, the block on the left here, which was famously used for external scenes in Only Fools and Horses after filming moved to Bristol, standing in for the fictional Nelson Mandela House in Peckham where the Trotters lived.
My guess is that these rental parking spaces are very popular when there's a match on at Ashton Gate. I could hear the cheering coming from the stadium from my front room in Hotwells over this weekend (I'm writing this on October 3, 2021, as I've got a bit of a photo-processing backlog!) so it seems that biggish matches—either football or Rugby or both—are back on.
A little remnant of the Avon's history, I assume, gently rusting away on the bank by Cumberland Road
21 Aug 2021
Lisa and I mostly went out to have a look at Luke Jerram's Museum of the Moon as its tour hit Bristol Cathedral—I missed it when it was previously in town, at Wills Hall, I think—but we also took a trek up to Redland. Lisa's kind enough to indulge my strange current fascination with the Edwardian eccentrics that made up the Stella Matutina, so we swung by a couple of places with a vague connection to the Bristol branch of the organisation. Well, it was good walking, anyway...
As a stunning bonus, one of the picture's descriptions has more information than you'd probably want on the Bristol Port Railway and Pier's Clifton Extension Railway line, but I did happen to coincidentally write up this wander after reading about the extension line during my lunch hour at work today. It's a thrilling life, I tell you...
"They afterwards built, in connexion with their convent, an asylum for the reception of about one hundred sick and aged poor, means for the maintenance of whom they obtained by soliciting alms from door to door"
Formerly a house, now a nurses' home, according to Historic England. Seems to add up, as it appears to now be on the grounds of the Bristol Homeopathic Hospital, which is "being used as the student health service for Bristol University"
On the left of the door is the service wing, apparently. It's a sprawling old place, and seems very awkwardly shoehorned into this corner. It looks from old maps like it was backing onto a quarry for a while, before that was filled in and the homeopathic hospital was built there.
Yes, I'm back on the magical research. According to RA Gilbert's Golden Dawn Companion, this was one of the meeting places of the Hermes Temple of the Stella Matutina. I'm guessing one of the members lived there, but I'm not sure who. I'd probably need to cross-check the census records with the membership rolls, and the latter are quite patchy, anyway.
I was surprised to find that "thank-offering" is actually in Chambers' dictionary, and not at all surprised to find it means exactly what you'd expect.
The inscription is from Psalm 114:
Tremble, thou earth, at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the God of Jacob;
Which turned the rock into a standing water, the flint into a fountain of waters.
Cotham House seems to make more architectural sense from the back. Maybe this was originally the front?
There's actually a Hotwells connection here, fairly literally. This section of track, from Ashley Hill, Montpellier, Redland, this bit right here, then Clifton Down and through a tunnel under the Downs to Sneyd Park Junction and Sea Mills station, was built as the Bristol Port Railway extension line, the Clifton Extension Railway.
The original Bristol Port Railway and Pier connected Hotwells to a deep-water pier at Avonmouth (with a few stations along the way) avoiding the need to have ships wait for the right tide to come into Bristol to unload. We've previously been inside one of its tunnels.
It was also used by plenty of passengers—during WWI an extra platform was added in Hotwells to cope with the sheer number of Bristolians commuting to the docks and munitions factories daily as part of the war effort, as well as troop movements and incoming wounded on hospital trains.
Later on this isolated Bristol Port track needed to join up to the existing railway network to survive, so this extension line was added to connect it with Ashley Hill with help from the Great Western and Midland railways. Only later did the section to Hotwells fall into disuse and close in favour of the Portway road.
(Information mostly courtesy Colin Maggs' The Bristol Port Railway & Pier, Oakwood Press, 1975.)
Can't resist a plaque. The original name of the organisation was "Guild of the Brave Poor Things", but that's Victorians for you.
30 Aug 2021
Lisa and I went for a longish walk, but I didn't take many photos. Mostly we just wandered and nattered. Unusually, my target was outside my 1-mile radius on Burlington Road in Redland, where I snapped quite a few photos of the collection of artistic animals by Julian Warren. This was mostly to provide a fairly arbitrary destination for a roundabout walk in Clifton...
I don't know enough about fruit trees to know what this was, but I can tell you that the fruit was apple-ish and very sharp indeed.
Unusual to see an espalier on a north-facing wall. This one faces the little car park behind Freeland Place
From an Avon Gorge Geology Excursion Guide I dug up:
Just south of the Observatory, on the right of the path is a children’s playground [ST 5667 7325] in the remains of a limestone quarry. In the back wall is a bricked-up adit, presumably representing the entrance to a former iron ore or lead mine (Fig. 10C). The roof of the adit is fissured and sparry, crystalline calcite can be seen in fissures.
The playground itself is in one of the the quarries used for the Suspension Bridge materials.
One of our mutual friends had mentioned that there was a house on Burlington Road with metalwork animals in the garden around here somewhere. It took us a while to find, but find it we did.
The artist is Julian Warren.
06 Sep 2021
As if to prove that I don't have to go on giant rambles, here's a quick four-photo trip up to Clifton Village for a bit of cake. No new streets, just a tiny slice of life.
24 Sep 2021
A quick lunchtime jaunt to Clifton Village. Along the way I admired the new sign on Hope Chapel and added to my tsundoku collection.
The scaffolding is down and there's a nice new sign (reminiscent of a historical one, I think,but I can't find the photo at the moment because Know Your Place Bristol is down) and you can just see the newly-installed solar panels on the roof behind it.
Among the many arguments about this pedestrianisation experiment, there has been quite the sub-debate over the delightfully modern COR-TEN steel steel/hideously ugly rusty* planters.