Archive | March, 2014

Cruithni

31 Mar
 
In the shadow of Holy Trinity this tattoo shop’s sign intrigued me. Cruithni? Who or where or what is a cruithni. A short visit to our mutual friend Mr Google reveals that the Cruithni were a bronze age bunch of people living in Ulster about 700BC. Quite what that has to do with this place I don’t know, maybe they just liked the sound of it. They have a website and it’s here. Also while I’m here I may as well point out that this building or rather a building on this site was the origin of the Smith & Nephew health products company.

Spring forward once again

30 Mar
Driffield’s Millennium Clock
So we lurch bleary eyed into Bloody Stupid Time so that we can enjoy ‘extra’ daylight in the evenings or in the mornings I forget which. Well whoopee doo! All across Europe and other places clocks are being taken down and fiddled with in this twice yearly farce. In these days of internets and instant communications why do we need to go through this rigamarole, it’s just  plain bonkers. If people want to get up with the sun no-body is stopping them setting their alarms early, but no, we all have to suffer this tosh. Just set the clocks to GMT or whatever is suitable locally and leave it alone. Grrrr

Blackthorn Winter

29 Mar

The past week has been a bit chilly, windy and wet and through it all the blackthorn has been blooming brightly.
Taken by Margot K Juby

Still awaiting repair

28 Mar
Victoria Pier is still undergoing repairs three months after the damage caused by a massive tidal surge. Clearly no urgency here and no sign of anyone actually doing anything either.
The Weekend in Black and White is here.

Market Place

27 Mar

Here the tubs of Spring flowers bring a little splash of colour to the near deserted Market Place. If you’re wondering where the market is it left decades ago.

Hands Off Hands On!

26 Mar

I have to admit to not really being a museum sort of person. Ever since I was dragged round museums as a child I’ve harboured the thought that they really are as dead as the exhibits. Still some like to take their children along for something ‘educational’ and this little place, the Hands On museum near Holy Trinity Church, which I personally found dull as a grey day, was just the ticket for inquisitive little minds to potter about in. Especially since those little minds’ little hands could actually get to handle the exhibits. You’ll notice that I used the past tense there and that’s because, and you may like to sit down at this point, from April the Council of this glorious City of Culture is closing this museum to public admissions. Yes, in future only booked groups, such as schools, will be admitted.
Notice of the closure only emerged after staff were consulted about cuts to opening hours to save money. At least the Council were ashamed and deny trying to sneak this past everyone on the sly (I never believe anything until it has been officially denied). When the news broke about a week ago there was outrage and anger. So there’s now a Facebook group to get this decision reversed and a petition with over 1100 signatures. We shall see how the Council responds. 
Anyhow there’s me rattling on and not mentioning that this building was the old Hull Grammar School built in 1583 or thereabouts and alma mater to Andrew MarvellWilliam Wilberforce and countless other forgotten scholars. 

Pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

25 Mar
 Orchard Park from Hull Road, Cottingham
A £310 million investment in Hull may not be a pot of gold but it will bring 1000 jobs to the city and a sigh of relief all round. What is this crazed loon talking about, I hear you ask. Siemens have announced that, after months of humming and hahing, Hull is the place they want to build a wind turbine factory. A thousand jobs may sound a lot but the city needs many thousands more and possibly this will bring in more skilled high pay positions; we shall see. There’s also the massive skills shortage in the city so quite a few of these jobs may go to outsiders unless training is improved. Still mustn’t grumble …not even as every single local politician and placemen seem to be crawling out from under the woodwork to claim the glory for landing this contract.