Flue Epidemic

The Chimney Sweep has assumed a nostalgic and also a romantic character with associations to wedding traditions and such depictions as Dick Van Dyke in the Mary Poppins Disneyfication. 

The role still exists today and remains in demand from those looking to maintain or restore an old chimney breast fireplace and flue to a safe and functional condition. 

In the past centuries the Chimney Sweep was an important contractor bearing in mind that the multitude of properties, residential, commercial and industrial relied upon coal fires. 

If you think about even a small terraced house there remained a reliance and dependence on an open hearth for background heating, cooking, hot water supply and laundry. A two-up and two-down dwelling would normally have a chimney breast in each habitable room and so extrapolated through densely populated towns and cities in particular made for a very steady level of business for the Chimney Sweep. 

There were machines and apparatus available for cleaning and repairing a flue but Sweeps felt that they would lose business as it was still the opinion of householders that a more satisfactory the job done by small children. The customer was evidently to be pleased and so physical coercion of youngsters to climb up the often tortuous and poorly built flue chambers was perpetuated. 

The 1862 Kingsley Classic of "The Water Babies" has at its core the experiences and salvation of just such a small child engaged in this hazardous, unhealthy and exploitative practice. 

Up to a UK Parliamentary Act in 1788 it had been permissible for an under 8 child to ascend a flue.

This was repealed and changed to a minimum age of 10 in 1834 and by the Chimney Sweeps Regulation Act in 1840 only those over the age of 21 could work in such an environment. 

That is not to say that illegal child labour was not taking place as only the slightest, skinny and by definition under nourished of juveniles could fit into what was a very unstandardised sizing of flue chambers and thereby keep the Sweepers' Businesses in operation. 

In 1852, in my home town of Kingston Upon Hull there arose a Legal Case in the Police Court against a John Ward who was described as a "Chimney Doctor". 

It was announced in the local media as one of the first transgressions of the Act within Hull. 

Ironically Ward had been a prominent upholder of the Legislation in his crusade to clamp down on unscrupulous contractors who were encroaching on his livelihood and income. 

On one May evening in that year Ward was alleged to have accosted on the street the diminuitive and skinny youth, Thomas Nestor who was then 17 years old with the offer of a Chimney Sweeping job on the following day. 

A Mrs Atkinson of 40 King Street, which was adjacent to Holy Trinity Church, Hull had given Ward the commission to solve the problem of a badly smoking chimney which served her kitchen. 

As a self professed Doctor of Chimneys the entrepreneurial Ward had diagnosed the issue causing the unpleasant back draught as an accumulation of mortar and rubbish in the brick lined flue. 

The young Nestor duly attended as agreed with the homeowner, ascended the chimney and dislodged the offending debris. 

Mrs Atkinson expressed her satisfaction with the job. 

Thomas Nestor claimed later that he never got paid for his labours. 

The transgression of the 1840 Act, specifically sub-section 3 was the reason for Ward being brought before the Court, that being the age restriction of 21 years for undertaking such work. 

The principal witness, Mrs Atkinson was not able to identify the lad who had gone up the chimney. That could have been down to a number of factors such as her not taking any notice whatsoever in who had turned up, the inherent snobbery between householders and tradespersons, that Nestor was in no way capable of being differentiated from other 17 year old youths or simply that having done a good job up the chimney he had been blackened by soot and debris so as to conceal any actual character features.

Ward also put up a strong defence through his Legal representative as he will have been fearful for his reputation and liberty in the Action. It was claimed on his behalf that the job of ascending the chimney had been delegated to Nestor's Master and that it had been that person and not Ward who had sent the lad to the address. 

In the light of the poor evidence at the disposal of the Prosecuting Authority the Court had no other option but to dismiss the Case. 

It was not until 1875 that the inhumane practice of child labour in chimneys was curtailed.

Seven Tenths

 You would think that 19 laps on push bikes around a public park may induce dizziness, fatigue and not a little bit of boredom.

Granted, the first two symptoms did in my case present themselves but that is not unusual for someone of my age taking a good bit of exercise after a few weeks of relative sloth.

It is not a tight circuit. At 0.7 miles a lap it is a reasonable distance and with enough variation in the road surface and a few fixed and random hazards to keep concentration high and with that a bit of adrenalin and determination.

At 10am on a Sunday morning Pearson Park, Kingston Upon Hull,  is pretty busy.

There are a few stragglers making their way home after the night before. Those who did go out for their Saturday social but had a sudden pang of guilt and conscience are jogging and trying to fight back a feeling of nausea.

There is a small collection of outdoor gym equipment in gawdy paintwork on which a few brave souls gyrate, Nordic ski, thrust and pump.

A solitary figure is on one leg and makes various quite artistic poses with flailing arms but I not really sure if he is actually doing any recognised form of meditative exercise. He may just be drunk or high and has an urge to stretch and marvel at the sunlight through the park trees. He seems happy enough.

One parked car has self adhesive signage in the back window advertising a ladies only fitness instructor. Nearby one thin energetic muscly female and three less energetic but determined chubbier ones are moving around a series of cones in an organised routine with hand held weights and medicine balls followed by groaning sessions as they lie down on thin foam mats on the dewy grass legs raised.

On the opposite side of the park it is American Football practice with large and stout males with over the head shoulder pads practicing short play tactics with a fair amount of the posturing and attitude of their sporting heroes.

After a wind blown night a few mums and dads search around for fallen conkers in preference to the labour intensive process of lobbing large sticks into the lower boughs of the horse chestnut trees. The accompanying children are excited in finding a spiky green body but underwhelmed by its contents, however fresh, glossy and smooth.

The trees around the edge of the road on which we cycle are looking in a sorry state from the early autumn battering . Our tyres crunch through the remains of crushed conkers. On occasion we can feel the impact of a conker as it is released in the gusty breeze and hits us directly or bounces up into our spokes.

For the first time since, I cannot really recall, one enterprising and entertaining parent is running along having launched a small traditional kite. A small dog chases at his heels and a child is either laughing or crying at the situation. Laughing because the whole thing looks very comical. Crying because only the dog and the man are really having the fun.

In the strengthening morning sun the café is open and its outdoor tables are already taken up with readers of the papers taking slow sips of their teas and latte's.

The reptile house has just opened by the lake. It is not a very inspiring building but those passing through the exit chatter with delight at what they have just seen in the form of lizards and tropical fish. It is quite a little treasure and its own humid micro-climate is welcoming on a sharp September day.

The statue of Queen Victoria in white marble is perhaps the most flattering representation of that great monarch who always seems to be depicted in a dour and dark pose in other civic settings.

Noises are increasing from the large children's playground now fully accessible after the park attendants have cleared away the usual accumulation of drinks cans and fag ends which materialise as if by magic every morning.

This is the setting for our 60 minutes of fast pedalling around the park circuit. We blend in quite well with all the activity. I think that hardly anyone noticed us at all.

Queen Victoria on the Toliet

I have eaten my saturday shopping sausage and chips in its shadow. 

It has been the hub for many a political and environmental demonstration and a focal point for civic and other celebrations including the triumphal reception for Hull City AFC upon their ascension to the Premier League in 2008 and in the Year of UK City of Culture.  

It is of course the Landmark Statue of Queen Victoria in the centre of Kingston Upon Hull. 

Therein lies an interesting bit of history. 

If you study the old town maps for Hull in the latter years of the illustrious reign of Victoria that part of the City Centre was very different- in fact a bit of a slum. 

It was a maze of alleys of poor quality housing, dark and threatening alleys and passages, declining businesses, a haze of smoke and some interesting and unpleasant odours. 

The Dock Offices fronted Junction Street and the function of the locality was aptly explained in the road names of Waterworks and Engine Streets. The exact position of the monument was previously occupied by what appears to have been a Post Office and as part of a larger block including a public house. The only name recognisable to me on the old maps is New Cross Street, a short thoroughfare to what was Queens Dock. 

For a major Port and Regional Town this mish-mash of buildings and uses was a big embarrassment to the Councillors and people of Hull. A statement of Civic ambition and aspiration was needed and in 1900 the Junction Scheme was proposed. This was intended to create a Grand Square for the City and at its heart would be a memorial to the recently deceased Monarch. 

In a Public Appeal in 1901 some £15000 was raised for the erection of a monument. The Reckitt family contributed £5000, Joseph Rank £2000 and with several other wealthy folk each giving £1000. 

The commission for the statue went to Henry Charles Fehr who had already provided a similar statue in Liverpool and with the wider project to James Glen Sivewright Gibson, Architect. 

Fehr was a major appointment with his specialism being historical and civic figures and a number of notable War Memorials. J S Gibson was similarly accomplished in his work. 

The larger than life bronze figure of Victoria in bronze mperial robes was mounted on a Portland Stone plinth giving a towering height of 35 feet. At her side sat smaller figures depicting the Mistress of Seas and Dominion of Land. It was unveiled by the Prince and Princess of Wales in 1903. Within 6 years the statue was joined by completion of Hull City Hall, an imposing and classically styled building which to this day retains it importance to the cultural life of its population. 

All seemed well and good for Hull with its status and due respect to the life of Victoria but in 1923 there arose much debate in the City Council Chamber over its relationship with further improvements in the Square. 

This was because of the design for new subterranean public lavatories. 

A few Councillors of a sensitive nature questioned whether the proximity of the toilets to the statue was in the interests of the moral welfare of the City. One member of the opposition claimed to have sounded out the King's Secretary on the subject and although declined to offer up the correspondence as irrefutable proof he stated that the scheme would be regarded with Royal disfavour. 

The City Architect, Mr Joseph Hirst, pointed out that the statue did long pre-date the proposals for the new amenities which would be of a commensurate high standard of design and materials to compliment the existing street scene. There would be no detraction from the aim of achieving Civic Grandeur.

In fact, and to act as a visual aid those debating the contentious issue, Hirst stated that the actual area of the underground chambers would be as big as the Council Chamber itself.

Misleading statements in the media had, it was argued, stirred up a lot of public fervour but in a Council Chamber Vote the motion to relocate Victoria was defeated. 

The scheme was completed with much approval in 1925 and to this day Queen Victoria remains on the toilet. 

Grand Irrational

I think that it is The Grand National today.

There was a supplement in my saturday newspaper with the definitive guide to the runners and riders but I left it unread.

The news media has been primed all week with the human interest stories linked to the owners, backers, punters, the man who makes up the huge hurdles, Liverpool in general, stable lads and lassies, the course and a host of other coincidences, freakish events associated with the race or with any link even if at first there is no apparent connection whatsoever.

A few celebrities were featured who have frittered away their monies on a race horse. Other tales relate to those who sacrificed everything to keep that gangley legged nag in oats and on straw and who were convinced or at least hoping that this year was theirs. After all they had been told so by a fortune teller or the stars and planets were so arranged to resemble, funnily enough, a gangley legged nag.

The background to the names of the runners has been investigated relentlessly on daytime broadcasts.

Those thinking about placing a bet latched onto the slightest sense of affinity or relationship to a name. In offices and workplaces throughout the land there were sweepstakes being organised with the sole beneficiary of the proceeds destined to enjoy a fabulous return to employment on monday morning.

I am not above stating that in the past I did participate in the experience of the Grand National.

Way back it was a bit of a family tradition to put a ring around three horses each on the double spread racing page of the Express on Saturday and to gloat over siblings if lucky enough to pick the winner.

On the occasion of our wedding exactly 25 years ago my wife was drawn to place a wager on, I remember it well, "The Last of the Brownies" given that Brown was her maiden name. I am happy to say that the we did not have a four legged winner but feel blessed that our marriage has gone from strength to strength in the intervening years.

I also recall taking my children to the local Bookies on the morning of the race once but never again. Although a much improved environment it was still a bit of a throwback to the days when children were not at all welcome onto the premises as it retained the mystique and ultimate seediness of a smoke filled refuge for the perpetual loser or ever optimistic gambler.

Nowadays the emphasis and hard sell of The Grand National is as a family friendly activity with one and all encouraged to wager a few pocket money pence or quid in a harmless and fun filled atmosphere.

There are the same range of enticements that frequent our TV screens and multi-media devices to draw us into the insidious world of gambling.

After all it can't do any harm really, can it?

I remained a casual observer of the mass participation in this years race.

One story however caught my attention. A 103 year old man was reported to have placed bets on the last 80 Grand Nationals but had never had a horse over the line in first place. In being featured in the national media as backing a specific runner that particular horse was catapulted into pole position. I hope that the old gent did not wager too much of his weekly pension. His favourite fell within the first few fences.

I was not aware, through my self imposed boycott on the event, of any of the actual field but was a bit annoyed at the final outcome in that I would almost certainly, definitely and without fail have backed a horse with the word Pineau  as it sounds a bit like Pinot as in one of my bestest tipples.

Windyridge at 50

What  better activity for a wet and stormy Bank Holiday Monday than to travel back in time over 40 years.

I reluctantly agreed to the suggestion of my wife that we have a drive to and around the town where I used to live before a family house move in 1979.

It was not a massive expedition, far from it, as the place in question is only twenty five miles or so away from where I live currently. I have drifted back a few times over those four decades.

In those far off times, however, even such a short distance did to me, in my early to mid teens give the impression of the other side of the world. That was to be expected given the vast differences in the two locations , one being a small sleepy market town and the other a regional city of around half a million population. 

I even went on what was called a Cultural Exchange back in the mid 1970's from town to city which involved a rickety coach ride, paddle steamer ferry boat crossing and dodgy mini bus transfer over that relatively short distance. The big metropolis was pretty frightening to a sensitive soul like myself and I was quite homesick over the 36 hours of the stay.

That same journey which involved multiple types of transport and took around 3 hours some 40 years ago is now a 20 minute drive. This is on dual carriageways and over the striking landmark of a suspension bridge, at one time the longest in the world, which saw the end of that characterful and adventurous ship crossing when it opened in 1981.

First call on the trip down memory lane was the former family house. Windyridge, Churchill Avenue. 

It was brand new when my parents bought it in 1971 and at that time at the very end of a cul de sac with open fields on two sides. In neo-Georgian style, albeit restricted to a classical column portico at the front door and some bullseye roundels in the window glazing ,it was very grand and befitting Father's position as a Bank Manager. During our time there the huge Elm Tree which dominated the back garden outlook perished from the Dutch disease and within a few years a new housing estate occupied one of the two pieces of open ground. The rear outlook across cultivated fields remains expansive and a major attraction where such views are often trespassed upon by other development and land use. 

The house looked good in its own middle age, well cared for. It must have changed owners a few times but from the wealth of information on the Internet I could see that the interior layout was the same. It was built in the era when the "Through Lounge" was the must-have attribute and not wanting to show off but ours was 23 feet long. Ideally for a large family there was a very well used Playroom where the upright piano could live alongside a paint and ink speckled work table and an old Formica kitchen cabinet which is still in the family after all of those years. The accommodation was 4 good sized bedrooms, bathroom and to the ground floor in a further dining room and family sized kitchen. 

We drove down the street and around the corner past the bungalow where Gran lived. That always seemed to my teenage self a sprawling almost ranch style place but was now just a very small looking residence.

The same shrinking effect went for the local park which could accommodate a ranging game of no-rules free for all footie where  most of the kids in the town would participate and get bruised but always came back for more.

I almost drove past it as it was only really as wide as a tennis court. That would explain why we lost so many plastic footballs into a house garden on the opposite side of the road and whose owner would take great and obvious joy in spearing them immediately on trespass with his fork or other sharp implement that happened to be within reach.

On the roundabout with the town War Memorial in its centre what had been the sole petrol station was now a window showroom. I can clearly recall the pricing display on the forecourt stating 33 new pence a gallon and this being the target of disgruntled locals for what represented a big price hike at a time of yet another oil crisis in the Middle East.

The main road through the town had always been busy with a constant flow of heavy lorries and through traffic constituting a peril and hazard as we walked to school but following construction of a motorway link and new ring road in the late 70's some semblance of quiet had returned with only local users out and about.

There had always been a very pleasantly potent mix of smells being a merging of the fumes from a marmalade factory and a sugar beet processing plant. These were sweet and sickly but long since dissipated as their respective industrial sources had fallen to market forces and obsolescence.

I had not expected the place to take on the form of a time capsule over the four decades but was disappointed to find that my junior school, an open verandah type to serve  the 1920's expansion of the population had gone and was now a housing estate.

Similarly the wooden Scout Hut where I spent many an hour was no longer there although the plot on which it had stood remained undeveloped.

A smart paved square had been formed as part of a pleasant pedestrianisation scheme where again, the lorries had once thundered along.

Father's Bank Branch was now a bar or eatery.

The Parish Church where Mother and my two sisters had formed half of the choir numbers was still there and seemingly unchanged which is always an indication of constancy in a rapidly changing world.

I had been a keen angler following in the footsteps of my maternal Grandfather .The two rivers that ran through the town had back then the aura of mighty watercourses both in length and breadth. A group of us in our mid teens thought nothing of arriving and setting up at 5am during the school summer vacation and not moving away until dusk.

That magical tree lined river bank was still there but now very much in miniature.

I was keeping a look out for any familiar faces from my childhood years but it is difficult to physically age anyone over such a elapsed period of time. I was perhaps expecting the exact same teenage faces of my old mates but on adult shaped bodies.

I do believe that the move away in 1979 did give me an opportunity of a wholly different  set of  experiences but made all the more worthwhile by some wonderful childhood memories of freedom and a safe environment in that place.

A Marvell at 400

It's an anniversary that has just been and gone with, as far as I have seen, not too much recognition or reminiscence. 

That's a shame for someone who was beloved and respected by the people of Kingston Upon Hull as its Member or Parliament, a man of honesty and integrity in a corrupt world and one of the country's most under-rated metaphysical poets and satirists. 

Here is a bit of a potted history of Andrew Marvell at 400 years since his birth.

Born 31st March 1621 at Winestead near Withernsea, East Yorkshire

Educated at Hull Grammar School after moving to Hull where his father was a Minister and Schoolmaster

Age 13, attended Trinity College, Cambridge as a literary child genius

Age 18, obtained a Bachelor of Arts Degree

His father drowned whilst attempting a boat crossing of the Humber from Hull to the South Bank

1642-47, embarked on Grand Tour of Europe where he met the poet John Milton

Actual travels unknown but acquired multiple languages

Thought to have had post in Constantinople at the English Embassy

1651, appointed personal tutor to daughter of Lord Fairfax, Nun Appleton, York

1653, secured by Oliver Cromwell as a tutor

1657, assistant to a blind John Milton 

1658, walked alongside Milton at Cromwell's funeral

1659, Member of Parliament for Kingston Upon Hull (until death in 1678)

He sat in the Third Protectorate, Convention and Cavalier Parliaments 

As MP for Hull he sent regular personal accounts of Parliamentary business to his electors

Honourable allowance given by people of Hull of 6 shillings and 8 pence a day to ensure attendance

Championed against corruption , the despotism of monarchy and persecution of Protestants

Defended John Milton against calls for Prosecution by Monarchists 

King Charles the Second attempted to bribe Marvell for royal favouritism. 

1660, written criticism of the pro-monarchist Archbishop of Canterbury

Throughout, Marvell was an Agent for Hull Trinity House shipping interests

1676, historical and political treatise against Catholicism and Absolutism

He was continually spied upon, bullied and harassed by Charles and his successor, James II

1678, died aged 58 from fever although suspected to have been poisoned by Jesuits.

Laid to rest in St Giles in the Fields, " The Poets Church", London

1681, "To His Coy Mistress" published although written between 1649 and 1660

Remembered as a true servant to Hull with the following memorial erected by public subscription;

Near this place lyeth the body of Andrew Marvell, Esq., a man so endowed by Nature, so improved by Education, Study, and Travel, so consummated by Experience, that, joining the peculiar graces of Wit and Learning, with a singular penetration and strength of judgment; and exercising all these in the whole course of his life, with an unutterable steadiness in the ways of Virtue, he became the ornament and example of his age, beloved by good men, feared by bad, admired by all, though imitated by few; and scarce paralleled by any. But a Tombstone can neither contain his character, nor is Marble necessary to transmit it to posterity; it is engraved in the minds of this generation, and will be always legible in his inimitable writings, nevertheless. He having served twenty years successfully in Parliament, and that with such Wisdom, Dexterity, and Courage, as becomes a true Patriot, the town of Kingston-upon-Hull, from whence he was deputed to that Assembly, lamenting in his death the public loss, have erected this Monument of their Grief and their Gratitude

Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)