Tagged: statue
I took the day off my day job to do my accounts—or at least do enough bookkeeping to send them to my accountant. I hate doing the books. I woke up late, tired and with a headache and decided to bunk off for a walk around Cliftonwood, Clifton Village and Clifton instead, taking in a couple of good coffees along the way. Thanks, Foliage Café, and Twelve for the flat whites.
This may be the very first time I've gone for a One Mile Matt wander and not actually gone down any new roads, trod any new steps. I just wanted a coffee, frankly, so I went the same old way to Imagine That in the marina and back again.
I shot this on a film camera when I lived at Baltic Wharf during the mid-nineties. Interesting to compare with the present day, I think. "Hand of the River God" by Vincent Woropay has lost its figure of Hercules carrying an obelisk in the meantime.
Back to Cliftonwood for a wander that included some of the belle views of Bellevue Crescent and other bits of the easternmost part. Highlights included watching someone bump-starting an elderly Nissan Micra in the narrow confines of Bellevue Crescent.
Well, she's a decorative figure supporting something. But not truly a caryatid, I feel. She also strongly reminds me of Stephen Fry.
The third in a trio of unusual faces, this fella's been catching my eye from a high point on Princes Buildings for years.
I wasn't really feeling it when I set out today, on my first car-assisted wander. By the time I'd parked on Alma Vale Road in Clifton it was just starting to rain and I picked my way about in quite a desultory way. It felt strange, as I was very familiar with the area because I'd walked through it hundreds of times when I worked at the top of Whiteladies Road, and used to walk up the hill from Hotwells and through Clifton to get there, and back again, every day.
Then a complete coincidence seemed to make the change I'd been hoping for. I was standing taking a photo of Christ in the front garden of All Saints church when a couple of people walked out of the front door. I got talking with a lady I took to be part of the ministerial team, who invited me to come in and look around—something I'd always wanted to do on the morning commute. (I think we connected a bit when I recognised the name John Piper, who did the amazing windows—I learned about him while I was at Warwick, through his connections to Coventry Cathedral.
I left with much more of a spring in my step, wandered around the area a bit more, finally working out that the tennis courts I used to pass every morning are those of Clifton Lawn Tennis Club, and finally grabbing an excellent Hungarian sausage hot dog from the Budapest Cafe. I feel a lot better now than I did before I went out.
From Historic England:
War Memorial Calvary. 1928 by F C Eden commemorating the worshippers who gave their lives in the Great War, to which those from the Second World War have been added. Stone. Rounded arch on polygonal base, flanked by obelisks and supporting wooden Calvary cross surrounded by stone figures. An unusual and prominent memorial.
A walk with Sarah focusing on Ashton and the surrounds, taken on a day with really nice light around sunset. Just what I needed.
A long walk around Cliftonwood and Clifton with my friend Lisa, taking in some of the 12 Days of Christmas display at Queens Parade, picking up a take-away coffee from Pinkmans of Park Street, and poking our heads up against the glass of SS Peter and Paul Catholic Cathedral.
It was originally an assembly rooms, which I've just been researching a bit after reading descriptions of a few of them in Fanny Burney's Evelina.
At the moment, you can't wander up to the portico of the Victoria Rooms as the buidling is being used as a Covid-19 testing centre.
The pediment apparently is "...depicting Wisdom in her chariot ushering in the morning, and followed by the Three Graces" according to the Pevsner guide.
Went for a wander with my friend Lisa—the current lockdown rules seem to be that one local walk for exercise per day with a maximum of one person not in one's "bubble" is fine—up to the University of Bristol area right at the edge of my one-mile perimeter to see the Jeppe Hein Mirror Maze, among other things. On the way we mused about Merchant Venturers, the slave and tobacco trades, and dating in the time of Covid.
Not quite sure what this Yorik-bearing monkey means, but apparently his name is Peter and he was made by Julian Warren.
A lovely walk in the early spring sunshine with my friend Lisa. We headed directly for Jacobs Wells Road, to start off around the scene of one of our earlier walks, but this time took in Jacobs Wells from QEH upward, stopping to snap some photos of a Bear With Me, some interesting areas between Park Street and Brandon Hill including a peculiarly quiet enclave with a ruined old build I'd never found before, then crossed the Centre to grab take-away pies from Pieminister (I had the Heidi Pie) and head back to my place down the harbourside.
Very long story short: it's a cut-down replica of the Bristol High Cross. The original used to stand in the centre of Bristol, erected in 1373 to commemorate the granting of a charter by Edward III to make Bristol a county, separate from Somerset and Gloucestershire, and now stands in the Stourhead Estate. This replica was made in 1851, and originally sited on College Green.
Facing us is Charles I, who used to look down Broad Street, and whose beard appears to have fallen off. On the right is Elizabeth I (Corn Street); on the left, Henry VI (Wine Street), and out of sight around the back is James I (High Street.) Directions and ID courtesy the interesting Wikipedia article.
I found out during later research into the Hughes family (including [James] Donald Hughes, who lived at 23 Berkeley Square) that it was Ellard Hughes, Donald's younger brother, who saved the upper part of the cross from the scrapheap and had it re-erected here. His father, Walter William Hughes, was an estate agent and general man of property with strong College Green connections, including being involved in the purchasing of land for the Council House, now City Hall1. I think it was during that work that the cross was removed from College Green.
This Tweet from Nick Howes shows the full cross standing in the centre of College Green in an aerial photo from 1931-2.
1 Source: A College Green Man, Article by William R Hughes on the many connections his father Walter William Hughes (1833 - 1909)
had with life round College Green, Bristol, Bristol Archives 30508, Deeds and documents of the Hughes family, estate agents of Bristol, 1791-1910.
As in Elizabeth I, who is of course the QE of QEH school from an earlier photograph; the school was founded in 1586. (Though the Bristol HIgh Cross dates from 1373, an extra tier with these four figures was added in 1663, explaing the apparently-paradoxical timeline.)
Berkeley Square's garden has the remaining part a replica of the Bristol High Cross. The original, erected in 1373, stood in the centre of Bristol, bearing four monarchs. These extra four were added as a later tier in 1663. Charles here would have faced down Broad Street, with Elizabeth looking down Corn Street.
It was moved in 1733 as it had become an obstruction to "modern" traffic, and a local man complained that it had become unstable and dangerous in high winds. It was taken down and later re-erected on College Green.
Later, prosperous visitors to the Hot Well wanted to promenade across College Green many-abreast and again complained that it was getting in the way. Eventually it was moved to the Stourhead estate in Wiltshire, and it remains there to this day.
This replica was created in the late 1800s and originally erected on College Green (where the statue of Victoria now stands), only to be moved to the middle, and then later taken down when College Green was lowered in 1950 (by around 4' 6", apparently better to set off the new City Hall building), with the upper stage of the cross being relocated here in Berkeley Square.
Quite the history!
Really just a quick loop of the Cumberland Basin. I was going to go further, and it was a nice early spring day, but I hadn't slept that well and I wasn't really in the mood. Ah well. Not every walk is great. At least I got out of the house for a bit.
I'm glad my friend Lisa joined me today; she drove in from Shirehampton and told me that the Portway was looking rather lovely, so we set off that way. She's also braver than I am when it comes to doing urbex stuff, so this was just the opportunity to take a peek into the Portnalls Number One Railway Tunnel/Bridge Road Deep Valley Shelter whose entrance I'd found on a previous wander.
It was definitely dark and spooky and impressively big, with a side tunnel that Lisa explored that leads to a little door I don't think I've previously noticed on the side of the Portway. I didn't get many photos—even my astoundingly powerful little torch (£) didn't do much to light things up, and you're not going to get much joy hand-holding a camera in that darkness—but I did shoot a little video, which I might edit and add later.
After plumbing the bowels of the earth, we went up Bridge Valley Path to Clifton, explored some bits around the College and Pembroke Road, then came home via Foliage Cafe for coffee. Nice.
