Tagged: public-transport
Plimsoll Bridge Swing
10 Nov 2020
I went to grab a coffee from Imagine That's little horsebox by the marina, completely forgetting that they don't open on Monday or Tuesday. On the plus side, on the way back I was in time to watch the Plimsoll Bridge swinging for a tidy little yacht.
Sunday Morning
15 Nov 2020
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.
I've heard various theories and rumours about the strange green roofed structure facing the harbour that's been there, apparently unfinished, for years and years. The last one I heard was that the shipyard was trying to make some office space on land the same way they make ships, but it never really worked out..
Jaunt to a Closed Coffee Shop
17 Nov 2020
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.
Quick Coffee
19 Nov 2020
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.
I have no idea how anyone managed to smack this street furniture so hard, or what direction they came from to do it. It's a pretty straight 30mph road right there, and this is only one side of the dual carriageway. Never seen so much as a near-miss there.
Underpass
25 Nov 2020
A quick lunchtime jaunt for coffee. I've often wondered about the dots on the wall of the underpass. Apparently they're not intelligible Braille. Maybe it's Marain :D
A swinging footbridge, designed by Brunel, but not quite as famous, or these days as functional, as its counterpart in the distance.
Bower Ashton is an interesting little area just south of the river from me—in fact, the Rownham Ferry used to take people over from Hotwells to Bower Ashton, operating from at least the twelfth century to around the 1930s.
It's a strangely contradictory little area, with a cluster of old and new houses sandwiched in between the busy A-roads and significantly more industrial area of Ashton and the bucolic country estate of Ashton court roughly east to west, and also between Somerset and Bristol, north to south.
I've been around here before, mostly poking around Bower Ashton's arguably most well-known bit, the Arts faculty campus of the University of the West of England, but I'd missed at least Parklands Road and Blackmoors Lane, so I initially planned just to nip across briefly and wander down each in turn. On a whim, though, I texted my friends Sarah and Vik in case they were out and about, and ended up diverting to the Tobacco Factory Sunday market first, to grab a quick flat white with them, extending my journey a fair bit.
To start with, though, I nipped to a much more local destination, to see something that you can't actually see at all, the Gridiron...
(I also used this wander as a test of the cameras in my new phone. I finally upgraded after a few years, and the new one has extra, separate wide and telephoto lenses compared to the paltry single lens on my old phone. Gawd. I remember when speed-dial was the latest innovation in phones...)
As-was. I'm standing on the bridge pictured in the main photo on the Wikipedia article, looking back to the A370 flyover that that photo was taken from.
As with Clifton Bridge Station, the next stop "down", there's not much to be seen these days.
Apparently there's some pressure to re-open the station as part of the MetroWest scheme, at which point I'd presumably be able to walk to a station that would get me on a train to Portishead on this old branch line, which would be a nice way of going on a day out. I've hardly ever been to Portishead, but I quite enjoyed the couple of trips I've taken there... I won't hold my breath, though.
Wikipedia notes that it was renamed temporarily in 1914 to Bristol International Exhibition, traces of which we've previously seen—it was the halls being constructed of white plasterboard and mouldings made from fibre and gypsum that led to its nickname of "White City", which is the name of the allotments that stand there now.