Che and Hull

History can throw up some interesting connections.

One of the most unlikely to come to my attention is a link between the City of Hull, East Yorkshire, UK and Ernesto 'Che' Guevara, Marxist Revolutionary, although perhaps better recognised as the face most likely to stare back at you from a 'T' shirt.

I would say many people, and embarrassingly myself included, do not have a good practical comprehension of his background and significance to the political map in South America. I have never studied that period in history nor yet seen the quite recent movies of his earlier Motorcycle Diaries and the two part dramatisation of his life and times.

Hull has in its own history being known to mix-it in a revolutionary way, for example in refusing entry to Charles II reputed to have been the catalyst for the beginning of the English Civil War. Hull has passionately defended its rights and liberties and even to the present day a strong socialist allegiance and sympathy is to be found in its Members of Parliament and grass roots activists.

Another thing that the Port has excelled in and has still managed to just about hold on to is the building of ships and it is this particular maritime activity that brought about the coming together of 'Che' and 'Ull'.

Earles Shipbuilding and Engineering Company was founded as a family enterprise in 1853 with its works in Victoria Dock, on the very eastern fringe of the Old Town, now a large genteel riverside housing estate.  Up to the demise of the business in the depression of the 1930's around 700 vessels were built ranging from Royal Navy Cruisers to trawlers, coastal water freighters to luxury steam yachts including commissions by Tsar Alexander VI in 1873 and 1874 , the Khedive of Egypt and the Duke of Marlborough.

The company earned a reputation for excellence in engineering and naval architecture and the order book thrived through the last half of the 19th Century. Their championing of the triple expansion steam engine, and its upscaling to a commercial application giving class leading efficiency in power and fuel consumption, proved a sensible economic choice for such operators as the Wilson Line arguably from the late 1800's the largest shipping concern in the world.

This major customer came to purchase Earles in 1900 when the Joint Stock Company went into liquidation after labour and cash flow problems.

In new ownership and with a more passenger and freight orientated outlook the world markets were open to be exploited. In 1904 the Peruvian Railway Corporation placed an order for a Steam Ship to operate not on the ocean routes of the Pacific Coast but across the landlocked Lake Titicaca, lying at an altitude of 12,500 feet or more than two miles above sea level.

British built vessels from yards on the Thames and Clyde did already operate on the main crossing routes but these were of a smaller tramp steamer size whereas the subsequently made in Hull  Inca at 220 feet long was considerably larger and able to carry bulk cargo and passengers in greater quantities.

The logistics of the commission required a special process and after initial construction on the banks of the River Humber the ship was then taken to pieces and the marked sections carefully packed to such a system that no part of the dismantled ship weighed more than 12 tons and the largest wooden case was no larger in dimension that ten feet by eleven. For an all in contract price of £22,285 (1905)  ship parts were shipped in this 'knock-down' state to South America and then hauled by rail some 200 miles inland and uphill to the shores of Lake Titicaca. The pieced together steamer marked a new era in the Peruvian economy centred on the Lake.

By way of after sales service a replacement hull from Hull was sent out for attachment in the late 1920's and Inca continued as a major haulier for a further decade. Trade across the lake between settlements and inhabited islands as well as between Peru and neighbouring Bolivia was increasing and by the 1930's the ageing fleet was struggling to cope. Inca and its success resulted in a repeat order to Earles Shipbuilders in 1930 and the keel of Ollanta was laid down in Hull in the early summer months. Some 40 feet longer than her sister vessel, Ollanta was the latest thing in steamship travel taking 66 First Class Passengers and 20 Second Class with dining room, smoking rooms and promenade decks in addition to a deadweight capacity for 950 tons of cargo.

After a five month build in Hull the same dismantling and packing took place as with Inca and after a long sea and onward train journey the boxed kit arrived at Puno on the western side of the Lake.

A problem not seemingly encountered when the Inca was re-assembled in 1905 was evident to the Earles engineers accompanying the crated up Ollanta in that the local labour lacked suitable skills and experience for such a task.

A slipway had to be built from scratch and old railway equipment was cannibalised to make heavy machinery. Ingenuity and enterprise in conjunction with innovative engineering application saw Ollanta in full service by November 1931 only 8 months after the crates had been opened .

It was during the service of Ollanta that 'Che', when a student, took passage and my tortuous link is at last explained.

Inca was eventually scrapped in the 1990's although it was reported that this had been a hasty decision and the ship was actually in good lake-worthy condition.

Ollanta is still to be seen on Lake Titicaca although now in a more tourist income generating roll having been recently refurbished for genteel cruising rather than general haulage. The Yard Build Plate number for Ollanta at 679 indicated only a short remaining period of activity for Earles Shipbuilding in Hull before falling to the global depression.

As a contractural condition of the winding up order in 1933 no shipbuilding could take place on the Humber Bank site for a period of 60 years. Much of the equipment and the distinctive Earles Crane was sold off and ended up in Kowloon which saw emerging economies take over as the main source of new build ships which appears to have been maintained to the present day.

Other yards on the Humber frontage have in more recent years produced smaller specialist vessels and the latest demand has been driven to service the offshore turbine industry.

The halcyon years of maritime engineering excellence in the City may seem a very distant memory similarly the link between a Hull built steamer and Che Guevara but nevertheless, in the same fashion a viable future in renewable energy represents an undeniable wind of change.

Storr Wars

I wrote recently about the treacle brick built Bettisons Folly in Hornsea, East Yorkshire. It is a slim tower in the middle of the town by which the servants of Mr Bettison could gauge the progress of his journey home from his business interests in the City of Hull and have his evening meal on the table for when he came through his front door.

http://onelastsoul.blogspot.co.uk/2017/01/treacle-bricks.html

That was in the early to mid 1800's.

Perhaps Bettison's motivation for his structure was not the guarantee of a hot dinner after a busy working day but a determined bid to upstage another tower just a few miles to the south.

There is however no real competition as Bettison, a brewery owner could not have hoped to emulate the towering edifice of Joseph Storr on Hilston Mount.

Predating Bettisons Folly by nearly 100 years it actually stood for some 60 years with no name before being called The Mount in 1810 and then being renamed to commemorate Storr's son, the renowned Admiral Storr (1709-1783).


His noted naval career earned him the ultimate accolade of a marble tablet and bust in Westminster Abbey amongst the great and the good of British History.

The Abbey memorial has the wording "To the memory of John Storr Esqr. of Hilston in the county of York, Rear Admiral of the Red Squadron of His Majesty's fleet. In his profession a brave & gallant officer, in private life a tender husband, an honest man & a sincere friend".

Achieving the rank of captain on 1 November 1748 he was given command of HMS Gloucester ,a position he held until 1753. He was later posted on HMS St George, a 90-gun ship which he retained until the following year.

In 1757 he took command of HMS Revenge and  in the Battle of Cartagena, Spain on 28th February 1758 off the Spanish port of that name in the Mediterranean a British fleet under the command of Admiral Osborn  blocked the French fleet inside the port, attacked and defeated. The interception of the French fleet was intended to limit the reinforcements sent to the aid of Louisbourg in North America, which was then besieged by the British.

Storr participated in the Battle of Quiberon Bay, Brittany on 20th November 1759, still on HMS Revenge. He was then part of the Red Squadron, the central body of the fleet, under the command of the renowned Admiral Edward Hawke,  From 1760 to 1762 he commanded HMS Monmouth.

These successive commissions coincided with a tumultuous period of British and indeed world history, specifically the Seven Years' War from 1754 to 1763. It involved every European great power of the time except the Ottoman Empire and spanned five continents, affecting Europe, the Americas, West Africa, India, and the Philippines. The conflict split Europe into two coalitions, led by the Kingdom of Great Britain (inc. Prussia, Portugal, Hanover, and other small German states) on one side and the Kingdom of France (inc. Austria-led Holy Roman Empire, Russia, Spain, and Sweden) on the other.

The man, if anything, deserved a tower.

Admiral Storr's Tower  is a fine and imposing building probably intended as a look out on what is only a 15 metre contour height but nevertheless representing some of the highest ground in the otherwise flattish Holderness rural and North Sea coastal area of East Yorkshire.

The Historic England Grade 2 Listing mentions "Orange brick in Flemish bond with header bond to stair turret; stone dressings. 3 storeys. Octagonal tower with projecting semicircular stair turret to north side. Door under flat gauged brick arch beneath datestone with coat of arms, bearing 3 birds. All other openings now blocked with flat gauged brick arches. Coped parapet ramped up to top of stair turret".

Although a distinctive shape and colour in a soft agricultural landscape Admiral Storr's Tower can easily be missed by users of the main road from Withernsea and Roos to Aldbrough and Hornsea and very few actually venture into Hilston if intrigued enough to want a closer look as it consists of only a handful of houses and farmsteads.

Although not very far from the unclassified road there is no actual path nowadays and as a consequence of abandonment and obsolescence people are best advised to keep clear.  A few amateur photographers have framed the tower in different seasonal settings such as the flowing stems of a ripening arable crop or the dark brown and symmetrical lines of newly ploughed acres.

The scene would warrant a photographic calendar all of its own or make for a very interesting time lapse sequence of light and shade under the expansive Holderness sky.

Glanced in the usual manner from a moving car the octagonal brick building cannot be appreciated for its architectural features. At 50 feet high the shape is only interrupted by the semi-circular staircase turret on its northern side. Although it may have been intended as a watch tower it was reputedly a well known reference point for sailors on the North Sea. It served as a hospital for troops camped on the coast in 1794–5 at a time of fears of invasion by an aggressive Post-Revolutionary French regime and later as a cottage, but was disused in 1990.

Ironically Admiral Storr's Tower may have been the reason for the rather freakish bombing of the nearby Histon Church in August 1941 because of its landmark status for the Luftwaffe, thereby inflicting a gross injustice on the reputation of the great naval man and in his own back yard.

Tree climbing Fish*

"Genius" started off as a radio show back in 2004/2005 before transferring to main channel UK TV until 2010.

The concept involved members of the studio audience proposing their own ideas to a celebrity guest under the moderation of comedian Dave Gorman to be adjudged "Genius" or "Not genius".

A well known Genius

In each episode around 5 to 6 ideas are presented and scrutinised including some practical demonstrations and critical analysis.

The shortlist of qualifying Genius ideas is then voted on by the studio audience to arrive at an overall winner.

Genius has recently been repeated on BBC Four Extra and I have greatly enjoyed hearing the contenders for the top accolade.

Here are a few of them although I have deleted the decision as to whether they were
a) Winning Genius
b) Genius finalist or
c) Not a Genius.

It is up to you to decide.

The two hooded coat: For protecting your date from the rain.
The democratic bus: The passengers get to say where the bus goes.
Taxi driver taking shoes as insurance for potential fare dodgers.
Genetically engineered mini-elephants as household pets

Mini elephant

100-metre-high running shoes: To make sprint racing easier.
The bespoke multi-bladed razor head mould: to make shaving quicker.
Placing prisoners on exercise bikes attached to the national power grid.
The science of opposites: Discovering the opposite of an item by examining its function
Dancing maths teachers: To encourage greater numbers to study maths.
Build weighing scales into shoes so you can watch your weight on the go.
Adopt appropriate regional accents for weather forecasts so you know which part to listen to.
Make the Isle of Wight symmetrical to increase tourism.
A-bear-toir: Places where naughty children go to have their teddy bears destroyed.
Dating insurance: Pay a pound per week, and the person who is dumped gets all of the money.
The torture box: To punish inanimate items.
Zip-up animal suits: An animal wears the suit, and when it dies you put another animal inside, but it looks the same.
The conveyer duvet: A duvet cover which surrounds the bed, so that if you pull it towards you, whoever is sleeping with you still has the duvet covering them.
Gambling ATM Machines: A gambling machine built into all cash points so when you need a £10 you can try and win it even if you only have a few pounds in your account.
Only Women Voting : Because of the 80 year difference in men being able to vote and not women, we should spend the next 80 years with only women voting.
Fizzy Onion Juice : Red or White? Carbonated juice of an onion as a summer time drink. Good with cheese, and vodka.
Day of the Week Lotto : An international lottery programme where the order of the days of the week are chosen at random. Bonus ball on leap years, and a rollover for unclaimed Tuesdays.
Cat Bars : As men have bars filled with dancing girls, women should have bars filled with cats. Thus relieving stress.
Have swimming lanes built next to cycling lanes.
Virtual reality headsets for chickens:
Vans delivering higher fat content food should be constantly moving so that people have to run and get fit if they want the food.
Wire up pianos to lights which are held by members of a choir. When one of the lights is lit up, the choir member holding it sings a particular note.
People in Old Folks Homes monitoring CCTV from high crime areas rather than just idly watching daytime TV
Bring your Uncle to work day
Bungahigh- a multi-storey bungalow
Laughing gas to quell rioters
Breathalysers on mobile phones to stop the making of rash calls when intoxicated
A 99p coin
Edible fruit labels
New swear words
Claiming East and West Poles for the UK
Lego Prisons

Lego lock-up

Talking parrots for those unable to speak for themselves
A 2 year old dog to avoid all of those messy puppy moments


I did send in an idea of my own for one of the early series.



It was using old vinyl records to resurface motorways.

Vehicles would be fitted with a pick up needle so that at exactly 55mph, which used to be the recommended speed for optimum fuel efficiency, there would be heard sweet music. In this way the Police would be able to easily detect excessive speed or equally hazardous dithering by motorists by sound only.

I heard nothing more.

*Everybody is a Genius. But If You Judge a Fish by Its Ability to Climb a Tree, It Will Live Its Whole Life Believing that It is Stupid

 Albert Einstein

Derailed

I am the first generation of males not to like steam trains.

The low price of domestic coal after the second world war meant that steam trains continued to operate in the UK for two decades, but when the price of oil started to fall in the 1960s, and so-called ‘dieselisation’ began, it marked the beginning of the end for steam. Diesel engines were faster, easier to maintain, and cleaner. 12th  August 1968 saw the State owned British Railways impose a ban on all mainline steam traffic.

It was the end of over 138 years of British steam powered locomotive history.

Shiny train thingy

My birth in 1963 coincided with the decline in steam and so I missed out on the sights, sounds and smells that had enchanted and fascinated previous generations. It would be interesting to find out in what year "to be a train driver" was toppled from pole position in the future employment aspirations of little boys.

I did of course have a train set and very happy memories of playing with it. It was a large loop of single track, tacked down onto a very large sheet of chipboard that had to be man-handled by me and at least three friends onto the surface of the best family table in order to be used. I seem to recall that it was a second hand purchase, possibly from an auction, of two small locomotives, a mixture of freight wagons and passenger carriages, one in very posh Pullman dining car livery.


The strongest memory that I associate with the train set was a worrying smell of scorching and burning from the electrical transformer that powered the motors in the workhorse engines.

As with most toys bought for children the motivation is that of the parents to re-enact their own childhoods and it was no different with my own Father.

He grew up with first hand experience of, and stories from, the halcyon days of steam trains.

More complicated things

His mother, our Gran, was a regular rail traveller down from Wick in the very far north of Scotland and this meant frequent crossings of the iconic red oxide Forth Rail Bridge.

I can well imagine my Father revelling in the prospect of a steam train journey as a child and keen for us to experience the same sort of emotions he took us all in August 1975 to sit in a field in County Durham.

It was not just any field but one that sloped away gently to the south towards a railway line.

We spent the whole of that summers day watching a procession of slow moving trains marking the 150th Anniversary of Railways. The Cavalcade started with a replica of George Stephensons Rocket at walking pace to the revelation at the time of the APT or Advanced Passenger Train which could do over 150mph but came past us also at little more than a toddle.

Try this link to an official film of the 1975 Steam Cavalcade . It is 12 minutes long.

I must have been a disappointment to my Father as although it was a one-off , never to be repeated special event it did nothing to engender in me a lifelong interest in any type of trains.

I did once find in my later teenage years, in one of those clearance baskets in a bookshop, a pocket sized Train Spotters guide which I bought and did feel compelled to fill in.

We lived in the 1970's just a couple of cornfields away from a busy railway line to and from a Seaport and this provided a source of engine numbers to tick off on the pages of many, many such numbers.

I gave that up quite quickly as it was a bit boring.

As a parent myself the resurgence of Thomas the Tank Engine did find us, as a family, at railway themed events. We did the usual touristy activity of taking the steam train across the North Yorkshire Moors but as my wife said, it was probably more exciting watching from the hillsides above the dramatic cuttings and curves than looking out from the carriage.

I do feel like apologising to those who maintain a love and enthusiasm for steam trains for my lack of interest .

I admit to being a little bit intrigued by the sight of grown men with telephoto lenses standing on railway bridges, embankments or otherwise in the middle of nowhere awaiting a brief glimpse of polished metal, a plume of vapour and a distinctive coal tar infused rush of air.

                            (Photos taken by me yesterday in The National Railway Museum, York.)

Courtship Colonial Style

The subject of "Bundling" was mentioned in a radio broadcast earlier this week. It is to me a fascinating record of social attitude, religious doctrine and sexual relations. 

I have reproduced this study in its entirety.

Bundling is probably the best known courtship practice of colonial America, even though very little research on the topic has ever been published.

It appears to contradict the otherwise sexually strict mores of the Puritans.

It meant that a courting couple would be in bed together, but with their clothes on. With fuel at a premium, it was often difficult to keep a house warm in the evenings. Since this is when a man would be visiting his betrothed in her home, they would bundle in her bed together in order to keep warm. A board might be placed in the middle to keep them separate, or the young lady could be put in a bundling bag or duffel-like chastity bag. The best protection against sin were the parents, who were usually in the same room with them. It may not have been good enough, however, as records indicate that up to one-third of couples engaged in premarital relations in spite of the public penalties, such as being fined and whipped, that often resulted.

There was no dating as we now know it in colonial times. A man would ask the parents for a young woman's hand in marriage and once they agreed courting could begin. The young couple had already determined that they were in love, of course. Parents would approve of bundling for their daughter with the man she intended to marry. Although it was not always this strictly controlled, it is clear that the women determined when and with whom bundling occurred. It provided the opportunity for some physical closeness in an otherwise strict society.

The beginning of bundling is unclear, though it does seem certain that it was a practice brought by the Puritans from Europe. Some feel that its origin can be traced to the Biblical story of Ruth and Boaz, where she laid at his feet and he invited her to "Tarry this night" (Ruth 3:6–13). Bundling was occasionally referred to as tarrying.

Historian Henry Reed Stiles railed against the practice:

This amazing increase may, indeed, be partly ascribed to a singular custom prevalent among them, commonly known by the name of bundling—a superstitious rite observed by the young people of both sexes, with which they usually terminated their festivities, and which was kept up with religious strictness by the more bigoted and vulgar part of the community. This ceremony was likewise, in those primitive times, considered as an indispensable preliminary to matrimony. . . . To this sagacious custom do I chiefly attribute the unparalleled increase of the Yankee tribe; for it is a certain fact, well authenticated by court records and parish registers, that wherever the practice of bundling prevailed, there was an amazing number of sturdy brats annually born unto the state. 

Some of the New England ministers defended the practice and saw no harm in it. Others condemned it as inappropriate.

The Reverend Samuel Peters opined:

Notwithstanding the modesty of the females is such that it would be accounted the greatest rudeness for a gentleman to speak before a lady of a garter, knee, or leg, yet it is thought but a piece of civility to ask her to bundle, a custom as old as the first settlement in 1634. It is certainly innocent, virtuous and prudent, or the puritans would not have permitted it to prevail among their offspring. ... People who are influenced more by lust, than a serious faith in God, ought never to bundle. . . . I am no advocate for temptation; yet must say, that bundling has prevailed 160 years in New England, and, I verily believe, with ten times more chastity than the sitting on a sofa.

A Reverend James Haven is given credit by Stiles for helping to end the practice. He urged his congregation to abandon a practice which placed many in too much temptation and they were apparently shamed into more proper behavior:

Mr. Haven, in a long and memorable discourse, sought out the cause of the growing sin, and suggested the proper remedy. He attributed the frequent recurrence of the fault to the custom then prevalent, of females admitting young men to their beds, who sought their company with intentions to marriage. And he exhorted all to abandon that custom, and no longer expose themselves to temptations which so many were found unable to resist. . . . The females blushed and hung down their heads. The men, too, hung down their heads, and now and then looked out from under their fallen eyebrows, to observe how others supported the attack. If the outward appearance of the assembly was somewhat composed, there was a violent internal agitation in many minds. . . .The custom was abandoned. The sexes learned to cultivate the proper degree of delicacy in their intercourse, and instances of unlawful cohabitation in this town since that time have been extremely rare.

In spite of such opposition, many women supported the practice, as evidenced by this poem from the period:

 

Bundling should quite go out of fashion, 
Courtship would lose its sweets; 
and they Could have no fun till wedding day. 
It shant be so, they rage and storm, 
And country girls in clusters swarm, 
And fly and buzz, like angry bees, 
And vow they'll bundle when they please. 
Some mothers too, will plead their cause, 
And give their daughters great applause, 
And tell them, 'tis no sin nor shame, 
For we, your mothers, did the same. 

Courtship must adjust to environmental conditions, and young women were given greater freedom in frontier settlements than their parents had in Europe.

Limited space in living quarters may explain the revival of the folk custom of bundling. It became common in New England in spite of being frowned upon by many community leaders.

Eventually the advent of singing schools and other opportunities for young people to gather provided other settings for courtship.

After colonial youth returned from the French and Indian wars, bundling was attacked as immoral and became a vice rather than a simple custom, and it appears to have withered away over time.


I am grateful to the original author of this piece, Bron Ingoldsby, here is the link.

http://family.jrank.org/pages/186/Bundling.html">Bundling</a>

Whiff Pong

I have never seriously contemplated the origins of Table Tennis.

That could mean, amongst  a number of things that;

1) My life is just full of other things which prevent me from musing on the origins of that and other pastimes or
2) I obliterate from my mind all sports that I am not good at, and
3) It is not important.

I just assumed, given their world domination of it, that table tennis was an invention of the Peoples Republic of China as a clever means of keeping their citizens grounded and healthy.

I have of course played it although there is to me quite a negative connotation. This is down to the fact that the only time that I have had access to proper table tennis equipment has been in  rented property whilst on holiday. By definition, you do not want to be indoors in any semblance of decent English seasonal weather and so you only resort to an indoor sport if the climate is wet and inhospitable. Many damp July to August hours have under such circumstances been spent in cold, damp outbuildings such as a converted garage, store shed or draughty barn engaged in an inter-family table tennis competition.

I could therefore be forgiven for being dumbfounded in stumbling across this Blue Heritage Plaque whilst walking through the North Yorkshire town of Selby.

David Foster was a local businessman who made his money in dairy products and cheese. Originally from Hull, he had moved to Selby in 1885 living in the town centre in a well to do townhouse on Micklegate where now a weekly market is held. As well as being in trade he was also a staunch Wesleyan Methodist and an officer in the local Liberal Association at a time when Selby and district was steadfastly Conservative. His claim to be the inventor of table tennis derives from his registering of UK Patent no 11037 on July 15th 1890. Although there were table tennis games predating this they were mostly theme based on,for example ,playing cards, balloons and paddles and even tiddly winks . New York based company J H Singer in 1884 had brought out a board and dice game followed in 1887 by the founder of Parker Brothers with another derivation.

The uniqueness  of Foster's invention was that it was an  “apparatus relating to imitating known games such as lawn tennis, football and cricket to be played on a normal table”.

It was therefore a determined effort to create indoor versions of several games.

The set included elegant strung racquets of scaled down size from the outdoor lawn tennis type , a cloth covered rubber ball, a small wooden perimeter fence and elaborate side nets to catch any stray balls or wayward shots.

The 1890 Patent

The game was intended to grace the parlours and dining rooms of middle class and upper class homes as it included the advice that ‘Gentlemen may remove jackets and bow ties to play and ladies are advised not to wear bustles’. Whilst a prototype will have followed the Patent ,the International Table Tennis Museum in the United States has found a second surviving boxed set of Foster's game, suggesting that it was not just a one-off, but actually made it into commercial production.

At the turn of the century ,indoor games were evidently the next best thing in the recreation and leisure market as the idea for ‘table tennis’ occurred to 4 other games inventors in Britain and the United States around the turn of the 1890s, all of whom separately designed indoor tennis games.

Table Patent by Standen 1894      

These games went under various titles, such as ping pong, pom pom, whiff waff and Gossima.

Whilst the pastime became hugely popular in the 1890s, the emergence from America of the fragile white celluloid ball along with the modern style of bat gave rise to a ping pong craze in the early part of the 20th century. Table tennis, remarkably, did not become an Olympic Sport until 1988.

Foster had however pioneered the forerunner of the modern game of table tennis. Obviously his true vocation was not in cheese and butter sales in that he further patented, from 1891, a new method for football, a travel table for games, a sandwich board and various bits of railway equipment including something called a fog detonator.

Source. Selby Civic Society

Eureka Hessle Road

To tell the truth, I never really took notice of the Eureka Picture Palace at the western end of the main shopping area of Hessle Road, Hull, Yorkshire, England.

I am a relative outsider and largely unaware of the significance of many buildings to a particular location and resident population. I do appreciate architectural styles but the Eureka was not a building that was in any direct line of sight particularly following alterations to the road system in that part of the city and even to a regular passing motorist like myself it could as easily be missed.

What did capture my attention in the summer of 2005 was a concentration of activity and a cloud of dust and debris as the once proud Cinema came to be demolished and the site cleared in readiness for a Lidl Supermarket.

In most of the urban environments of UK towns as well as the suburbs there has been a very dramatic decline in old cinema venues and so you may ask what was particularly special about The Eureka.

The authoritative work by Pevsner on "The Buildings of England" gives part of a sentence to it which is quite an endorsement for what was a functional building, specifically "Eureka Cinema, 1912, striking front in green and white faience".

I had to look up faience in the dictionary which refers to "the conventional name in English for fine tin-glazed pottery on a delicate pale buff earthenware body, originally associated by French speakers with wares exported from Faenza in northern Italy". Available archive photographs do not do justice to the splendour of such a material on a large front elevation but it would be clear, when built just two years before the outbreak of the first world war that the Eureka was a major commission.

It was evidently very well received by the Hessle Roaders  as a leisure facility for the  local population of which a high proportion earned their living from the hazardous industry of deep sea fishing.

The cinema was a show of the glamour of the movies and somewhat ahead of its time as the halcyon years of the silver screen were yet to come. As a sign of good attendance the seating capacity was increased in 1921 with construction of a balcony.

A local resident recalls the magic of a trip to the Eureka. "I was only a kid when we used to go there and see all the matinee idols on the big screen but I remember always longing to sit in the double seats at the front where the couples went. It was very sophisticated and seemed really posh."

It was certainly the place to be seen, a good night out or somewhere to go on a date.  The saturday cinema club and matinee performances entertained thousands of children at a time when there were few amenities for the younger generation.

The trawling industry, bringing great danger in the Arctic fishing grounds and with a heavy loss of life also brought money to Hessle Road. Cinema going figured high on the activities of local families in their valuable time off and for crew members who on their short periods of shore leave earned the title "Three Day Millionaires".

There tends to be a natural cycle in the life of the older generation of cinemas and the Eureka was no different. Having survived the Blitz in the second world war the Eureka stayed in business showing films until 1959 suffering from competition from larger city centre establishments and the arrival in many living rooms of television. The natural progression was as a Bingo Hall, another popular pursuit but this was itself under threat from a declining population as the old terraced streets were cleared and the occupants relocated to large sprawling new build Council Estates some four to five miles out on the far reaches of the city.

In 1984 a revival was attempted as a live music venue but this proved to be unviable and the premises were sold in 1989 for redevelopment. The location, by now a bit isolated and surrounded by car sales garages and secondary shops was not conducive to a conversion of The Eureka to flats and through a combination of inaction and neglect the building began to deteriorate rapidly.

Within ten years it was necessary to carry out partial demolition including removal of the roof. Now open to the elements the former grand interior of the elaborate and ornate facade took on the appearance of a wooded and overgrown copse.

The very visual demise of the Eureka caused concern to the Hull Civic Society who started a campaign try to save it as an emblem of the past and part of the heritage of the by now decimated trawling industry which had supported the Hessle Road Community for so long. The website, "Cinema Treasures" expressed the need for a rescue operation of such a fine example of a pre war building but to no avail.

I felt, in a strange way, privileged to be a witness to just a small part of the demolition of The Eureka cinema in 2005. It was the passing of a landmark and institution serving as a pleasure palace to a proud, hard working and long suffering  Hessle Road community.

Gwenap. Sex and Clutch Control

I started work in Kingston Upon Hull, Yorkshire, UK,  in 1985.

I had lived up the road from 'ull in the family home in the genteel market town of Beverley for the six previous years although four of these coincided with my student life away in another part of the country.

So you could say that I was not really that familiar with the city on my doorstep , the nuances of its different streets, local areas, the significance of the River Hull and its divisive influence on the population, and many, many other aspects of life and culture.

In my first week of proper employment I had a short induction after which I was provided with a company car and sent out with a full diary of appointments- monday to friday.

I had to quickly learn my way around the city and my knowledge of how to get from one location to another did soon, I felt , rival that of the most seasoned taxi driver.

In 1985 Hull was in yet another of its transitional stages. I tend to think that there was only one really starting from the decimation of the city in the wartime blitz and just progressing in fits and starts giving that impression in the following seven decades.

Large tracts of small, densely packed late Victorian terraced houses were being demolished and cleared and their residents, many with multi generational roots in those areas, shipped out to new and soul-less estates at the far reaches of the urban sprawl. Other, once proud streets of large and character town houses had been allowed to decline in condition and desirability and a few only just survived to be regenerated into trendy middle class dwellings. New roads were carving their way through the old docklands and trawler quays, many citizens being appalled at the decline in the core industries of Hull but firmly of the opinion that this type of infrastructure was well overdue anyway compared to regional centres such as Leeds, York and Sheffield.

Improvements followed in shopping and leisure amenities although these typically sounded the death knell for the corner shops, those niche outlets run by sole proprietors and many which had been an integral part of daily life in Hull.

One such premises, much loved but nevertheless of dubious reputation was a landmark on the Springbank and Princes Avenue junction and traded as "Gwenap".

It had a traditional shop front with twin display windows and a central entrance door. The often lurid and downright outrageous goods in the windows clearly advertised the business as an adult shop or sex shop although the signage was for "specialist underwear and pleasurewear".

Motorists at the head of the traffic queues on the eastern and northern approach to the junction could not really avoid sneaking a glimpse of the colourful and provocative window dressings. This would make for an awkward silence if a male driver was accompanied by wife, partner or observant, inquisitive and expressive children.

On some occasions there would be a demonstration on the pavement by a Methodist contingent or other Watch Committee endeavouring to impose morality and restraint on prospective customers. It was not a wise thing  to do to linger outside or show a casual interest as you were likely to have your photograph taken on the assumption that you were either a degenerate or a pervert.

I did see many cars stalling for voyeuristic reasons and the distracted driver would be beeped by impatient followers long after the green traffic light showed. On some days there would be a small sheen of headlamp or tail light lenses on the carriageway evidently arising from a similar lack of concentration when confronted by mannequins dressed in nurses, policewomen's or French maid costumes.

The establishment had originally opened to trade in 1902, then as a ladies outfitters and hat makers.

The change in retail identity may have taken place in the more liberal 1960's or 1970's , certainly the stylised demeanour of the window dummies was of that period.

I was a naive onlooker in 1985 thinking that the large fly poster in the window advertising "TV Times" referred to small screen entertainment rather than, in actuality, a magazine by and for those of the Transvestite persuasion.

"Gwenap", in name, featured in many aspects of Hull life either in  pub conversations or in comedy and popular culture. It represented a constant in a fast changing urban environment although I cannot recall ever having seen anyone go in or come out of the shop on my frequent, very diligent pass-bys in the car. I did nearly lose control of the steering wheel in dumbfounded amazement at seeing an inflatable sheep on display but then again anything and everything seemed fair game for the loyal , but invisible, clientele.

There was also wit and pathos in the regular change of banners and yet more full window posters which could produce a heartfelt laugh, smile or nervous giggle. These under new ownership from 1988 included, very much on topic with news events, "Bent Politicians welcome here", "Knickers to the lot of you" and "Blow up dolls for the reformed terrorist" .

Hull folk did not regard Gwenap as being at all seedy or a corrupting influence because of a certain lightness and tongue in cheek attitude of the proprietor. Perhaps well ahead of its time was the courting of a customer base through clever marketing and advertising, foremost being the "Gwenap Flyer", a contact magazine for singles, couples, groups and specialist fetishists from every gender.

This publication enjoyed decades of patronage even though no one would ever admit to having bought it, read it or let alone advertise in it. It was once cited as the catalyst  in a high profile legal case of group sex swingers and a blackmail based extortion case that excited local interest in an otherwise sleepy and parochial village out in the wilds to the east of Hull. 

In 2009 the business became unsustainable and closure was imminent but such was the public outcry that the owner kept going and actually found a buyer in the following year.

The key factor in securing a deal was the "Gwenap" name with an inherent value and goodwill in being the longest established business of its type in Britain or even the world. Investment under new ownership kept the iconic shop front intact although, someone told me that the innocence and fun of the old made way for a more commercial edginess in the adult market also covering retro and burlesque goods.

It may have just been a last swansong for the institution that was "Gwenap" as the shop eventually closed in 2013.

It was a sad day for Hull on that front but as for the busy road junction, it became an infinitely safer place to drive through without temptation towards distraction or good old titillation.

The Two Donny's

The two figures beckoning to me across the inner city street were in no way menacing.

In fact, I thought at first that they were lost and approaching me for directions to some venue where their very smart, suited and booted attire would fit in just nicely.

They were both in their early twenties, clean shaven and when the first of them spoke it was in a languid, American accent. The noise of the traffic from the nearby main road abated enough for me to hear the question "Have you see any Mormons in these here parts before?".

I was a bit taken aback by the lucid directness of this sentence. I am often accosted in the same street for all manner of reasons from giving the time, offering up a non-existent cigarette, pennies for a cup of tea or often as not when a local resident asks if I am a Policeman.

We were now all on the same pavement side of the street. In the early evening light of a saturday I could make out their name badges which were just visible under the lapels of their sensible coats. Each held tightly onto a leather satchel no doubt containing their bible, teaching tracts and promotional literature.

The mention of Mormons immediately brings into my mind two images. The first is of, for some reason, a large bearded man out shopping in the company of multiple wives and the second, well technically second and third are Donny and Marie Osmond.

This religious following did have quite a charm offensive in the 1970's when I was nearly in my teens and Mormons were, to my young perception, associated with clean cut youths, good singing harmonies, polygamy and very, very good teeth.

My two street acquaintances obviously, at face value, met two of that criteria- it could have been more.

In reply to their opening question I showed off my insensitivity and prejudice by saying "No, but I am sure I would have noticed as your lot do stand out like a sore thumb".

The blank expression to this I put down to:

1) They are not familiar with English phrases
2) They are after all from the United States and do not recognise irony in humour
3) Between them their thumbs were healthy.

They then told me that they were newly arrived to the area. Perhaps in their pioneering or witnessing or preaching or doorstepping or whatever it was called in their branch of religion they were just instructed by their Elders to go out, immediately upon arrival in a district and do it.

They seemed rather demoralised by what must have been a long day in the surrounding area with little or no interaction with the local population.

I gave them a quickfire run down of the social demographic for the nearest ten streets based on my knowledge of nearly four years residence in the inner city. I was tempted to put on a Middle Earth voice and start with "here be dragons" but recalled points 1) and 2) above and felt this would not be helpful.

Pointing to buildings within 50 metres which were the closest to us I recounted that they were run by a Housing Association for young homeless persons. I compared this, from having watched the boxed set of "The Wire" to a 'Project' Stateside. That registered with them, but not I thought from watching the gritty drug enforcement cop series given its unwholesome themes.

I continued; One street up was of strong Middle Eastern and Arabic identity. Around the corner was a long terraced block with Polish and other Eastern European families. The large, Victorian villas around a local park were the popular lodgings for the student population attending the City University. Other similar properties, not let to students were used as temporary accommodation for refugees and those seeking asylum. A modern cul de sac, with a large ceramic mural at its entrance depicting a willow pattern type scene was occupied by the Chinese community. A further area of smaller, tightly packed terraced houses had a strong association with the Afro-Caribbean population. In between were converted properties providing Social Care for the elderly or infirm. Newer build infill properties provided hostel beds as a sort of halfway house for ex offenders. A good proportion of all of the housing stock in the area, I told them, was rented either by families or in multi-let occupation as bedsits and flats.

My potted and very generalised social study was accepted as a reasonable explanation by the two Americans for their lack of preaching opportunities that day. Their thumbs may have actually been sore from ringing door bells over the previous 12 hours or so.

They asked me where I thought would be a good area for them.

I had now assumed the role of campaign adviser to the Mormon faithful. In sweeping hand gestures I drew, in my minds eye, a very good scale map of the wide, tree lined streets about a half mile to the west characterised by some very nice owner occupied houses. It was a Conservation Area popular amongst professional types, teachers, artists and hipsters.

They were grateful for this advice and we parted company.

I was a bit disappointed not to have received a blessing of sorts but my reward was more subtle.

Those big posh houses would keep them busy for some time making it less likely that they would turn up on my own porch step any time soon.

On the way home I could not get two particular songs by the Osmonds out of my head. Perhaps I felt guilty about my advice as the tunes from one of their greatest hits albums were "In my own little corner of the world" and "One bad apple don't spoil the whole bunch". Strange that.

Vinegar on your chips?

As an island nation we should be well attuned to the Seagull.

They are familiar co-dwellers in our coastal resorts and increasingly found as permanent residents some distance inland in our towns and cities.

The reeling, noisy chorus of the gull is the perfect ambient soundtrack for a walk along the Promenade, the harbour wall or beach, It is, undoubtedly, a contributing factor to the taste of that bag of chips, ice cream, pastie, waffle, crepe and sand infused picnic that go with a traditional British seaside experience.

Yet, in recent years seagulls have been perceived as a problem demanding an extreme solution.

As part of a central government initiative to revitalise the often run down, dreary and uninviting seaside towns of the UK the seagull has become demonised as a threat, a deterrent to the leisure and enjoyment of day trippers or vacationers because of some isolated cases of aggressive behaviour. In one instance a girl is reported to have fallen off a quayside trying to evade swooping gulls and a pet dog is reported to have been killed in Cornwall which evokes Hitchcock type images of a supernatural, avian menace.

Gull Power

Conspiracy theorists may have some justification in their reasoning that as 10% of the UK population reside on or near the coast and a demographic would be mostly of retirees then local Members of Parliament would pledge their support for a cull of seagulls as a potential vote winner.

A few prominent politicians in coastal constituencies  have cited the seagull issue as the principal reason why the electorate feel blighted and besieged. There is some precedent elsewhere.

In Venice in 2015 the increase in the seagull population was seen as a problem in the main tourist areas leading to the introduction of measures to control nesting and breeding. Scarborough in North Yorkshire gained dispensation in 2015 for Licenced individuals to get rid of nests and eggs in situations where health and safety issues were present. This latter measure represented a major concession to the popular resort where frequent dive bombing of visitors by gulls was a perceived problem and especially as the most numerous of the species, Herring Gulls and Black Backed Gulls are protected species .

In reality the numbers of gulls is in decline from 750,000 breeding pairs in 1993 to current figures of around 378,000 pairs. The increase in reported aggressive behaviour may be, fundamentally, a survival instinct.

Chips away!

In tandem with this is our increasingly rubbish strewn environment and in our regular seaside trips this includes overflowing waste bins, uncleared outside dining tables and of course the love of us Brits to eat food whilst on the move with all of the associated littering that goes with it .

This is just too much of a temptation to a natural scavenger species.

Gulls do give plenty of warning of their intention to make a grab for whatever hot food is wrapped in newspaper, the colourful sprinkle topped ice cream or hand grasped pastie.

Their 4 stage protocol includes an initial screeched warning to go away but leave the food, a low pass if the warning is ignored, a slow bombing run with a shot across the bows of droppings or vomit and then if human resistance or nonchalance is suspected a full 40mph swooping attack from behind.

The average Herring Gull is a big bird in size rather than weight and very intimidating in a full wing span outstretched lunge for its lunch or high tea.

Talk of a cull is however too drastic.

There are plenty of measures of control available to Environmental Health including the use of birds of prey, the broadcast of disturbing noise, strung bunting, anti-perching and nesting spikes and keeping rubbish in sealed bins or hessian sacks which are more difficult to burst. The more intrepid amongst seaside council staff have been known to remove gull eggs from nests and substitute them with sand filled plastic replicas or coat them in paraffin.

We should take some responsibility for the current predicament of seagulls arising from our own lifestyles.

Above all we should try to keep seagulls happy.

A seagull in the early stages of being annoyed

This is because in a recent scientific study the natural constituents of gull droppings, a potent mix of ammonia, natural chemicals, viruses, fungal infections and bacteria were found to increase greatly in acidity when the birds became upset and stressed.

The prospect of involuntary vinegar on your chips well might spoil your day out at Blackpool, Skegness or Bognor.

Paper Boats and Poison Pills

My Viking blood means that every so often I have to go to the coast and stare out to the ocean.

As with a former pet dog, a German Pointer, whom we did just the once find, majestic but confused in classic rigid, directional gun dog pose, I have no idea what my senses and instincts are telling me.

It may be a bit of a Thor Heyerdahl moment, you know, the intrepid Norwegian explorer turned conservationist who was one of my childhood heroes alongside Neil Armstrong, Peter Bonetti and the collective Thunderbirds.

I remember reading in a school project about his Kon-Tiki expedition of 1947 when in a balsa wood raft he crossed the vast Pacific Ocean. His description of the environment was one of remoteness, beauty and purity.

Imagine his dismay some 24 years later when, in leaning over the side of his latest papyrus boat in the Atlantic Ocean to clean his teeth he came up against lumps of solidified fat as hard as asphalt, plastic bottles and squeezey tubes. It was no better some 10 months after that when on making a day to day record of the type and quantity of waste he recorded visible pollution on 43 of the 57 days.

Pretty ominous stuff.

Disturbingly, even the empassioned evidence of the great Heyerdahl has had no influence on our continued use of the global oceans as a dumping ground for the detritus of modern life.

Take the latest documentation of the phenomena of "Nurdles".

It is a cute sounding name which could as easily describe a mischievous children's book character, a cuddly bear or a comforting foodstuff.

In reality I would not put it past some slick advertising executive to have thought up "Nurdles" on the instructions of a multi-national petro-chemical corporation as a distraction from its true identity.

A "Nurdle" describes a lentil sized pellet of plastic in its rawest form.

It is light enough to blow around like a dust and as such spills out of the factory sites, trucks, trains and metal containers, the thousands of such shipping containers that criss-cross the world's oceans between supplier and manufacturers of all manner of plastic goods.

The seemingly innocuous pellets have an unfortunate characteristic in that their molecular form has a tendency to attract oils. Consequently the persistent organic pollutants ( POPS- another cosy acronym) which drift about in the oceans attach themselves to the Nurdles and form supersaturated poison pills. Such materials as DDT and PCB's were banned in the United States in 1970 but the foresight of that country was not adopted by many others.

A futher freakish factor is that a Nurdle resembles a fish egg and as such is devoured by the large oceanic population of, for example, tuna and salmon.

The next stop after commercial fishing fleets have harvested the fish is the entry of potential carcinogenics into the human food chain.

Nurdles are very difficult to clean up because of their size which also helps them to mix in with beach sand. They are now thought to make up around 10% of the plastic debris in the worlds oceans. The combined plastic coverage across the seven seas is around 40% by area.

Modern plastics are durable and not easily degraded and so the existing waste floating about will stay there for decades. Scientists predict that around 70% of the plastic will eventually sink and create a man-made ocean floor with wider implications for the ecology and environment of the planet.

It is conceivable in this way that archaeological excavations of the sea bed in say 10,000 years will reveal a thin layer of plastic. Our generation, long since gone may be deemed to have perished after eating their own plastics, a strange thing to do for a seemingly cultured and advanced society.

Perhaps, on this gloomy note I should sign off in tribute to my hero Thor Heyerdahl.

Upon realising the extent of ocean pollution back in 1970  he said that he "set out to get a glimpse of man's past but got just as much of a glimpse into man's future".

Cooke House

I grew up in the 1960's and 1970's within earshot of the radio catching bits of what sounded like rambling monologues in a transatlantic drawl. I did not understand or appreciate them. They were the distinctive reports of the celebrated journalist Alistair Cooke. The following is my homage to his content and style.

I speak to you tonight from the home of one of our citizens.

It is a modest place, tucked away in a leafy suburb of a north-eastern City, called Hull.

A City which secured great wealth for the nation from its status as a stalwart of the deep sea trawling industry and major coastal port but yet was forgotten for its great sacrifices in the second world war when 1185 of its residents were killed in the blitz and all but a few of the houses and other buildings escaped any damage from the relentless aerial attacks.

This heritage is never far below the surface in the sensitivity of the city population. Furthermore it is one of the few places left in the UK with vacant plots left where the bombs fell and were never redeveloped. Breaks in the long early twentieth century terraces of neat two storey houses have the outline of the old chimney breasts where a hospitable hearth and tin bath will have formed the centrepiece of a families life but at sometime in the melee of the Hull Blitz were left rudely exposed as a string of high explosive or incendiary bombs sliced their way through the civilian areas.

The home from where I speak  is a modern one but the old maps show it to have been built on the site of a Convent and Presbytery. Remarkably these large buildings seemed to have survived the war years but fell to the pressures of developers as recently as the mid 1970's.

The family who reside here comprise parents and three grown up offspring. Mother works as a Personal Assistant and the Father is a Chartered Surveyor. Occupations that keep the economy of the nation ticking over, The demographic for this part of the city marks out their employment as typical in what is colloquially known as "brown bread" or "muesli" territory. This refers to a reasonably comfortable although not affluent lifestyle. Two family cars on the driveway, one main holiday a year, contributions to Further Education and a bit left over for Charitable giving.

The family regard themselves as being in a fortunate position compared to other areas of the city which have struggled over the last few recessionary years followed by inevitable austerity. It is more than fortunate for that is my interpretation. The family quickly correct me in stating that they have been blessed and that God has provided all that they have needed and more. I find this faith interesting as it is not the chest thumping and bible bashing type prevalent to their American counterparts but a quiet and faithful belief that is quite rare, I would warrant, within the increasingly secular and materialistic UK population.

The family sit down for their friday night meal.

It is an informal and happy event and being the end of the week it is always a home made chilli. They take it in turns to cook but are all somehow hovering around the kitchen offering to prepare the ingredients or in the case of the young adults they regularly ask for an update on when the food will be ready. They have busy lives after all.

A bottle of crisp white Pinot Grigio but under a £5.99 threshold is opened and offered to all of legal age but invariably it is the Father who consumes most although claims that the exceptional texture of the chilli is as a consequence of a couple of glasses of wine which have found their way into the mix.

The consensus is for a painfully hot chilli. It is not held to be a success unless bringing out a sweat and actually proving to be uncomfortable to eat. The culinary habits are indicative of the shift in the nation to a truly global menu.

I watch as the meal is carefully prepared. The scene resembles many that I have witnessed in my travels around the world from Albuquerque to Albania, Rekyavik to Adelaide and all points around.

This is remarkable given that the average British households have been squeezed and squeezed by the incumbent Conservative Government. Bedroom Tax, cuts in benefit, soaring energy prices, the highest petrol costs in Europe and all of this against a common fear amongst all for job security, the burden of debt, tuition fees, the temptations of wicked gambling in all forms however innocently advertised on a 24/7 basis and all of this before concerns of global warming, world poverty, social and political upheaval.

So, I briefly enjoy the chatter and laughter in this house seeing it as a brave face on a less than rosy economy in spite of the first faltering green shoots of growth and renewal that some commentators have remarked upon. I am however heartened by the spirit of those here assembled and know that with a strong ethical base and determination for justice and fairness the prognostic appears promising.

Goodnight and God Bless.

Powerf'Ull

We take for granted that with the flick of a switch, turn of a thermostat, dial up on a shower and in fact anything relying on a power supply will, well, just bring forth light, heat, hot water and facilitate all manner of creature comforts.

These things relate to our own domestic environments and lifestyles.

So, upscale everything to a commercial and industrial scale and reliability, dependability and economy are paramount to keep machines and processes operational.

In the Victorian era the inspired inventors of that time sought to establish a system of power very much like that of the National Grid today. It was an ambitious idea.

In the late 19th century, what was termed a hydraulic network might have been used in a factory, with a central steam engine or water turbine driving a pump and with a system of high-pressure pipes transmitting power to various machines. This was very much on a small scale.

In fact the  idea of a large public hydraulic power network was suggested as early as 1812. William Armstrong began installing systems in England from the 1840s, using low-pressure water, but a breakthrough occurred in 1850 with the introduction of the hydraulic accumulator, which allowed much higher pressures to be used.

The first public hydraulic network under an 1872 Act of Parliament was in the port and city of Hull, in Yorkshire, England.

A provision of the Act was that  a million gallons of water a day from the River Hull could be used at a cost of £12 10s per 250,000 gallons per year to the Hull Corporation. In this way it was also the first public utility in Hull.

With legislation in place the Hull Hydraulic Power Company began operation in 1876 from a purpose built power station on Machell Street just a few yards away from the tidal River Hull as it runs along a north to south axis before spilling out into the Humber Estuary.

In technical terms it was a major civil engineering feat. The pumping station, a low brick building with a large cast iron roof tank, ancillary buildings including a hydraulic accumulator and a large chimney stack was the steam powered engine room for a network of interconnected pipes under the city.

Machell Street- today

The six inch diameter pipes ran for some two and a half miles to serve plant and machinery in the thriving Freight and Timber Docks. In this way the infrastructure of the Port could be operated on demand and this included the distinctive dock cranes, heavy lock gates to and from the estuary and the heavy machinery which was associated with ships and shipbuilding.

Anyone who has lived around the river will be familiar with its languid, brown passage even in full flow when draining the East Yorkshire hinterland. The roof tank, manufactured by Stacey Davis and Co from their Phoenix Foundry in Derby, allowed the mud and silt to settle out of the huge volume of water so that it would not enter into the power plant.

By 1895, pumps rated at 250 hp , a major output for the Victorian era, took in some 500,000 imperial gallons of water into the system each week. The accumulator boosted working pressure to 700 psi. At a suitable distance along the main pipework were isolation valves and also air cocks to be able to drain the system of air.

Customers were able to access the system from 'T' pieces of 2", 3" and 4" from the main pipework. In this way some 58 machines of diverse type and location came to be powered by the system.

There were other private hydraulic systems installed at Hull's Albert Dock in 1869 and Alexandra Dock in 1885.The success of such systems led to them being installed in places as far away as Antwerp in Belgium, Melbourne and Sydney in Australia, and Buenos Aires in Argentina.

The Machell Street plant operated continuously from 1876 and it was only after damage inflicted on the pipework and infrastructure in the severe bombing of Hull in the second world war that prohibitive repair costs led to the company being wound up in 1947.

Hull City Council erected a Blue Plaque in 1990 to mark the historic significance of the Machell Street premises as the first public hydraulic power station in the UK.

                            The building is in some use today for storage, workshops and tyre fitting.