In the battle between parks and walls the walls won. The snow seemed to be getting harder so staying close to nice warm shops and cafes seemed the sensible thing to do. The precinct was almost deserted. All the really sensible people were probably in WestQuay enjoying the warm and dry. We walked past and headed straight for Bargate. There was less snow than I’d hoped but the medieval gateway stood on an island of white with flurries of fat flakes fluttering all around it. Continue reading A snowy walk of the walls
There always seem to be lots of odd photos sitting in my photo archive that don’t make it into posts for one reason or another and I thought, why don’t I put them together? So I’m giving you a little peek into my archives to the photos that didn’t quite make it… Continue reading Tales from the photo archive – memories
Time was running out for us at Silver Helm and on a dank and dismal late November morning, the vultures descended. They came to begin the process of dismantling the happy little office that had been my home for almost eighteen months. Of all the things that happened in those last week’s this felt like the most traumatic. Continue reading The vultures have descended – first published 27 November 2013
Standing in front of the last mural on Orchard Lane, feeling slightly disappointed that my quest had been so easily completed, I debated whether to walk up into town for a coffee or just go home and have one there. It was still quite chilly so I decided on the latter and, rather than retrace my steps, I thought I’d walk over Northam Bridge. When I turned towards Threefield Lane though I spotted something on the side of the block across Orchard Lane. It looked suspiciously like another mural. Continue reading Holyrood Estate, more than meets the eye
It’s hard to believe that today it will be a whole year since we lost my amazing Father In Law, Albert Keates, affectionately known as Commando Senior. It seems fitting then, that I revisit some of the memoirs he wrote in the last year of his life. Apologies to anyone who has read these stories of his before but, as they were lost when my old blog was hacked, it seems only right that I republish them now in tribute to him. The first instalment tells of his childhood in the Great Depression of the 1930’s, a time when poverty meant a completely different thing to our idea of poverty today. Back then there were no TVs, no mobile phones or computers, in fact none of the electrical gadgets and labour saving devices we all think are essential now. A trip to the loo often meant going to the bottom of the garden. Poverty meant a choice between food and shoes as you will see if you read on… Continue reading Random musings of a geriatric delinquent – The great depression – first published 11 February 2014
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