26 Nov 2020
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.
05 Dec 2020
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.
A "bright and airy self contained single storey Freehold studio / workshop (277 Sq Ft)". The floorplan shows that it's basically just a single room with tiny room with a loo and a sink inset, and nothing else. I suppose an enterprising hairdresser or nail technician might be able to make something of it.
I looked back on the old maps, and found “School Ruins” on the 1947-1965 OS maps layer, then just “School” on a few earlier maps, but then, finally, the 1874 Ashmead map told me enough to track it down: “Clifton National School”.
According to the Clifton and Hotwells Character Appraisal:
In 1835, the Clifton National School was built on the terrace above Hotwell Road and the Clifton Poor-Law Union workhouse on the lower terrace, becoming Clifton Industrial School in 1849; the same year, Hotwell Road was widened. A Training Institute for Females and Domestic Servants in Clifton Wood also appeared in this area by 1860 and by 1901, 53 trades were recorded between Dowry Square to Anchor Road, including 23 pubs…
…Clifton largely escaped widespread destruction during the blitz, though… a bomb also largely destroyed the Clifton National School and Mardyke House School. The lack of bomb-proof shelters in Clifton led to the Clifton Rocks Railway to be used as shelter, which was prepared for occupation in 1940. Throughout the bombing up to 200 spent the night there.
03 Dec 2021
On my last wander, to Bower Ashton, I was intending to knock Blackmoors Lane off my list "to-do" list, but got a bit diverted. I also took a little look into the history of the Gridiron, once a cheaper alternative to dry dock that was nestled just south of North Entrance Lock.
Today I had to go to send a parcel off somewhere, so I decided on going to the North Street Post Office via Blackmoors Lane. I didn't have much intention of anything else, but as luck would have it I walked out both at low tide and also as some lockkeepers seemed to be having a bit of a training session, and one of the more senior people was (a) happy to answer a few random questions on the Gridiron and (b) actually knew a lot about it, as Gridiron maintenance had been one of his jobs, more than twenty years ago...
If you look at the lock wall, about halfway between the lock gates and the inset ladder, you'll see a little square hole. I had no idea what it was for until today, and I had no idea I was going to find out...
Here it is: my target road to tick off the list.
These are the houses in that archive photo.
This isn't so much of a photo as a reminder to talk about the amazing malty smell that wafts out and inhabits this whole stretch of North Street when there's some brewing going on. Presumably it's the days when they're boiling wort.
I've always wondered what this wheel is for. It's part of the Gridiron's cleaning system. Water is drawn from North Entrance Lock through a sluice channel and could be diverted one way and another across the surface of the gridiron. I wasn't clear from my conversation with the lockkeeper whether this would open the sluice channel or was the control used to divert the water first to the left of this central point of the gridiron, then to the right, but it's definitely part of the cleaning mechanism.
He said he also used to have to go down the ladder and hose it all down after sluicing it out, and that he found the whole process quite fun!
I mostly went out to hang out with my friends Sarah and Vik in Bedminster, but along the way I thought I'd take a closer look at something a little nearer home: the last crossing point of the Rownham Ferry.
If you were following this route you'll have noticed I just magically took a shortcut through a bunch of houses. That's because I've elided the bit of the route that goes to Sarah and Vik's place and stays there for an hour or two.
In the distance is EE's temporary cell tower, which I've mentioned before, put up in November 2020.
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...)
Most of the front gardens on this little stretch retain what's presumably the original garden walls, all rather nicely put together in a chequerboard pattern of bricks.
One of the businesses on this little estate of random things is Rob Perry Salvage, which presumably explains the odd row of wrecked cars parked in the access lane.
The South West Broadcast Centre for Celador Radio, it says. That certainly explains the big dipole antenna on the roof. I haven't heard of Hits Radio, but I suppose I'm generally more your Radio 4 type.
This happens to me all the time in this area. I try to get somewhere by aiming in the most obvious direction, and the pavement just peters out leaving me with the options of either going back the way I came or dashing across four or five lanes of traffic.
The entire area is very pedestrian-hostile. I assume the parents and kids making their way to the school opposite know all the right routes to avoid this kind of problem, but as a visitor it's very annoying.
I sort-of like what the architect has done with the odd angles of the porch and balcony, and I do like the asymmetric roof, but on the whole I don't think the oddities are bold enough to really do it for me.