No Business Like Snow Business

In search of snow.

I can only recall, perhaps, half a dozen Christmas Days in my lifetime of 62 years (of course disregarding the first few infant years when I had no awareness of the stuff), when the lightening of the dawn revealed a magical layer of white amongst a hard glaze of frost.

I got a bit confused by the December in 1978 in which major power shortages in the Winter of Discontent meant prolonged periods of candlelight coupled with a heavy fall of snow giving the impression of a month long festive period.

I clearly remember one particular Christmas when our local Co-Operative Store burnt down providing a strong sensory experience that lives on even today and is reactivated with the faintest whiff of smoke, be it from an extinguished candle or the output of an urban chimney pot.

About thirteen years ago, or it could have been longer, there was a 6 week cold snap which saw a temperature range from minus 8.5 degrees Celsius overnight to barely minus 4 during the day. It was a complete white-out and eerily quiet as for once the majority of road users took on the advice of the authorities and decided that all journeys were non-essential, even the usual quick drive to the corner shop for fags and milk. There were tremendous icicles hanging off the eaves of the houses and it was possible to see which home owners had not yet lagged their loft spaces from the slow,melting progression of the thick layer of compacted snow down the roof slopes.

My reliance on the absolute minimum of insulation proved foolhardy as the resultant cascade of snow took with it a few slates and the heavy cast iron gutters on both the front and rear causing damage and a hefty bill.

In the UK, or at least in the lowland areas, the purchase of a sledge for Christmas is not top of the shopping list and consequently any fall of snow of suitable consistency and duration for recreation brings out the enterprising use of alternative means of riding the slopes.

A favourite would be a heavy duty plastic bag, those lying around the garden with a bit of fertiliser left in the folds being most suitable followed by good quality refuse bags and finally sheets of corrugated cardboard although the latter was very much a compromise given its tendency to get wet and turn into a coarse pulp mid hill.

All of the above gave little protection to the bum and spine from the rough ground under the snow on the way down any slight gradient. Any shouts and exclamations of exhilaration of a fast descent were rather grimaced as a consequence.

Snowfall is still a relatively rare climatic condition in my own experience of living in Britain.

Much of my 6 decades has been lived on the eastern side of the country in Lincolnshire and East Yorkshire. If the weather fronts bring in snow from the west then we receive only a light sprinkling. Most of it does not make it over the Pennines. The whitest Christmas periods have been from the arrival of dense clouds and cold Arctic air from the north east and east putting the east of England on the front line.

In the run-up to the end of the year I do keep a watch on the long range weather forecasts in the forlorn hope of a gradual decline in temperatures which would make a fall of snow more likely.

This has not been the case and indeed we have seen unusually high figures of 12 to 14 degrees in past December weeks. The lowest point has only been around 4 degrees and a frost has been largely absent.

I recall that Christmas Day 2014 was bright, clear and snow free where I live.

I did get excited on Boxing Day by the sight of a Premier League Football Match in the Midlands caught in a flurry of snow. I apologise for my glee upon the news of motorists in Sheffield having to abandon their vehicles due to impassable iced-up roads. I did feel a pang of jealousy for the members of a coach trip who had to spend the night in a church hall after getting stranded near Rotherham.

I have regularly searched the skies over local rooftops and the City Hospital in the direction of South Yorkshire for any signs of cloud formations associated with the imminent arrival of snow but have had to abandon the vigil as the dusk drew in.

The rainfall around tea-time just fell as rain although the thermometer was beginning to show a trend towards the low single figures. I expected the faint gurgling from gutters and downpipes to lessen with a fall in temperature until silent but nothing happened to suggest a snowfall overnight. Peering out of the bedroom curtains this morning was disappointing as there was only a pale white frost covering on the ground.

Nevertheless, I am determined to seek out some snow if it will not come to me here. The car will be prepared for difficult conditions and it is off in the direction of the latest news reports of traffic mayhem and chaos.

                Success after a 128 mile round trip to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, Wakefield

Formica versus Function (or for the love of melamine)

 

New roof every 40 years.

Replace the rainwater fittings every 20 years.
Re-point the external walls on a 15 year rota.
New better performing windows and doors every decade.
Paint the remaining woodwork twice in every ten year period.
Remodel the interior upon each change of ownership which traditionally was held to be on a seven year progression.
Skim plaster ceilings and walls on a whim.
Refit sanitary ware when the next best thing is seen in a magazine be it a fruit bowl basin or a travertine tiled wet and steam room.
Install a new kitchen whenever you get bored of the existing one, perhaps even between meals.

The foregoing is a timeline based on my experience of working in property for well over 30 years.

You would expect my job of inspection, diagnosis and analysis of the structure and installations of a house to be made considerably easier by the regularity of the ongoing process of repairs and renewals but in fact my arrival at a seemingly perfect property only serves to start off my mental alarm system in anticipation of botched, concealed and downright dodgy workmanship and practices.

There are many instances of what the senior generation would refer to as "top show" where superficially everything looks superb but just below the surface there is less than satisfactory detail lurking. I was therefore thrilled today to come across a largely unspoilt house in terms of its features, fittings and amazingly what would be regarded as a vintage range of kitchen units- the forerunner of what we would call a fitted kitchen although barely recognisable as such against those being marketed to home owners today.

It is a limited run of sturdy joiner built rather than flat pack base units, consisting of four white faced hinged cupboards with lime green drawer fronts above although two are dummies incorporated below the enamelled finished sink and drainer.

The enamel is spotlessly clean and unblemished giving the appearance of little use although likely to have been countless times during a domestic cycle of activity.

The adjoining work surface is in granite effect formica, also as bright and shiny as though fitted a few hours ago and not yet commissioned.

Fixed to the wall above are two pantry units but non matching suggesting that one may pre-date the main array and retained for its generous shelved storage and useful sliding glass cabinet beneath. It may have even been part of a more established larder unit but cut down to size and the lower part discarded or in use, recycled in another part of the house.

It is a kitchen combining what would be the all mod cons of the period  and the "make and mend" era that it superseded.

The adjoining wall unit has larger shelving spacing to take dinner plates and a row of 6 dowel pegs for cups and mugs to be hung from.

A stylistic touch is a spice rack in the gap between upper and lower storage and well stocked on the day of my visit.

The taps on the enamel coated metal are elegant swan necks in bright chrome finish and again remarkably sparkling and with no oxidisation or wear and tear. I felt a bit strange having to test that they worked as though questioning their legitimacy over the previous four or more decades.

What of the future of this amazingly preserved vintage kitchen?

The parents of the young couple interested in buying the old house stood alongside me and we were all a bit dewy eyed at our collective recollections of having been brought up with very much the same format of form and function.

Meanwhile, said young couple were measuring the wonder kitchen of its age to make sure that it would all fit in just the one skip.

House Party

I am not sure what the Guinness Book of Records have as the highest number of persons crammed into a tiny house but my experience today in York must have been close.

It was one of those Open Days for a property shortly to be marketed at a National Auction House.

When I say "Open Day" the agents really mean that they are only prepared to give access for 30 minutes strictly at a pre-ordained time and on a specific day. The guidance in the on-line brochure stated that any interested parties can only gain access at that time, no sooner and no later.

I arrived a good hour before the allocated time mainly because of the limited available daylight in early December in which to get a good look at the outside but also to meet the lady from London who had come up on the train to York.

We had spoken only briefly on the telephone a few days prior to discuss what I type of survey and information I could provide her with.

Our meeting was in an establishment called Mrs Greedy's Cafe on the corner of the street just along from the house. From our table in the steamed up front window we had an offset view of the road. There seemed to be an unusually heavy flow of slow moving traffic up the narrow cul de sac but nothing was making the run back which suggested that a parking problem would soon be experienced.

After a coffee and general chat about what was required of me we made our way out into the bitterly cold late afternoon.

There was certainly a bit of a crowd massing on the pavement and spilling out onto the road in front of house number 15.

More cars, mostly big expensive ones with personalised number plates were making their way tentatively through the other haphazardly abandoned vehicles. I did not recognise any of the individuals, the usual suspects, from my previous work in York and the wide range of accents and dialects suggested that, like my Client ,many had travelled some distance to view the house.

Clutching my clipboard I was asked a few times if I was the keyholder or was bombarded with questions about guide price, what the location was like and if I was a prospective buyer.

Exactly on time a man appeared from out of the mass and unlocked the door.

The following scrum was akin to the disgraceful scenes in the shopping malls on the recent Black Friday as the crowd surged and attempted to squeeze two or more abreast through a narrow Victorian front door. I did not help the crush by dragging along my survey ladders causing a temporary blockage and a few grumbling complaints.

The steep stairs ran from only one pace inside the door and those entering had to take a sharp left turn into the cramped living room. Names and phone numbers were requested from viewers and these confirmed the wide geographical spread of visitors. STD codes I recognised were from Manchester, Leeds, Liverpool, Glasgow and even from Eire.

I simply indicated that I was with the Lady from London who by now had been joined by her builder and two prospective letting agents. Whilst our small group now numbered 5 persons we were less than one twentieth I would estimate of the newly arrived occupants of the house.

It was an eerily quiet atmosphere given the number of bodies.

Apart from the rattle of good quality leather soles (male and female) on the bare concrete ground floors no-one spoke beyond identifying themselves to the key holder. It was as though the inspection was of the utmost secrecy. An intensely personal experience.

Poker faces did not betray what the viewers were thinking and certainly not their thoughts on what they might regard as a fair and reasonable price to bid in a couple of weeks time.

There were the obvious dealer types with pointy toed brown brogues below moleskin trousers, checked shirts and sports jackets. Plaster flecked working denims and soiled sweat shirts indicated speculative builders looking carefully on how to minimise outlay but maximise profit on re-sale. A few shifty types I put down as private landlords who would probably, if successful in bidding, move someone in without doing any essential repair work at all. I did notice a few nervous couples who had hoped for limited interest in the house so that they had a chance of getting on the property ladder in a city where this had not yet been possible for them.

There was one other obvious surveyor like myself acting for a client. We gave our industry standard acknowledgement of raised eyebrows and sharp intake of breath.

I had little opportunity to speak with the lady from London in the melee and because she was in a huddle in each of the rooms with her other mercenaries. I dodged in and out of the crowded living rooms and the tiny kitchen. A few had spilled out into the back garden to be met by a wall of brambles as though forming an impregnable barrier around a fairy-tale castle. In this bottleneck there was a bit of jostling and a brief scuffle but rather comical where involving the well-to do.

Upstairs was similarly congested.

The young couples were aghast at the 1970's bathroom suite as though they recalled similar on a visit to an incontinent relative as children.

I was a bit concerned for the ability of the woodworm infested floorboards to take the loadings from a dozen persons, not helped by the builder types doing a trademark jumping up and down to check stresses. I turned my back on my ladders for a brief moment to check that the old windows were openable only to find that they had been assembled and used by a man to clamber up and look in the loft space.

Time had flown by in such interesting company and the keyholder was fidgeting as though to imply that the 30 minutes had elapsed. People were still arriving,perhaps betrayed by their sat-navs or affected by a late running train if travelling from some distance away.

My lady from London looked cold and tired after what had been a long day and we re-engaged on the pavement outside and opposite. She was not deterred in her plans to put in a bid by the high level of interest and the very basic condition and calibre of the house. In fact she appeared more determined than ever to be the successful party.

I got the impression that she would proceed with her plan regardless of what I might say in my written report.

Christmas Puddling in Hull 1921

Imagine doing some Shopping in Kingston Upon Hull in the evening of the last Saturday before Christmas, 1921. 

In the busy commercial Market Place and Lowgate there will likely have been a festive scene from the bright lighting of the shop windows, the pavement array of goods under the canopies, a riot of noise from the traders, barrow-men, the phut-phut of a few motor vehicles and a general hubbub of excited consumers making some almost last minute purchases. 

In order to make the most of a weekends trading the shops will have been open quite late. 

Although one of the coldest seasonal months of the year the weather conditions on that specific evening might have been remarked upon as being quite abnormally windy. Shopping bags and carried packages will have been buffeted about. 

Not too unusual for the depths of winter but what did surprise shoppers and shop-owners was very quickly finding that they were wading through rapidly rising flood waters- the mucky, muddy type. 

At 7.30pm on that night a disaster unfolded that the London Times called "of unexampled magnitude" causing considerable damage on a widespread coverage. 

A combination of freakish conditions of high tide and strong coastal gales caused a bulge or tidal surge to race up the Humber Estuary from its source out in the North Sea. This overwhelmed Victoria Pier on its way West and being funnelled up the narrow River Hull corridor the pressure and height of the wave burst the banks and led to flooding of the surrounding low lying urban areas. 

The unfortunate shoppers will have witnessed the inundation along Market Place, around and into the landmark Holy Trinity and St Mary's Churches and affecting the Town Hall, Central Post Office and Banks.

Of the two places of Worship St Mary's suffered more damage. The ancient oak lectern floated away but miraculously the heritage Bible was thrown clear of the water onto a dry desk top. 

The densely populated housing areas running parallel to and branching outwards from the River corridor became quickly overrun with gates and house doors swept aside by the tidal wave and ground floor parlours and kitchens put under the brackish water. The stricken families in the most part were able to take refuge upstairs and although some narrow escapes were reported there was no loss of life.

Worst hit was the Wincolmlee industrial area just to the north east of the city centre with the large Oil Mills directly affected. A stack of stored barrels, 25 feet high was toppled and swept away, similarly some 200 tons of coal which was waiting for use to fuel the steam powered machinery of a flour mill was taken away by the current down Great Union Street. 

Hundreds of homes were ruined and added to the losses experienced by commercial and retail businesses the estimated damage was upwards of three quarters of a million pounds. 

Areas around Hull did not escape the deluge, particularly on the North Bank of the Humber and the Main railway line at Brough was under water. 

The severity of the tidal surge was thankfully short lived and by 10.30pm the waters had receded. 

Here is a link to a wonderful bit of footage at BFI

https://twitter.com/bfi/status/848127824741359616?lang=en

The clean-up operation was immediately begun as regular river flooding was, and indeed still is now, a major threat particularly with much of Hull's population living on the flood plain. It was a well rehearsed activity of remediation by homeowners, businesses and with the dutiful attendance by the Fire Brigade and their pumps. 

All on an April Evening

 1912 – 14^th-15^th April.

Joseph Groves Boxall (1884-1967) was born in Hull and chose a career at sea. Attaining his Extra Master status from Trinity House in 1907 and following 5 years with the White Star Line on the Atlantic Crossings in their passenger fleet vessels he was appointed as Fourth Officer on Titanic for its maiden voyage.

The following is a monologue edited heavily from the evidence under oath given by Joseph Boxall on the 13^th Day of the Enquiry into the tragic sinking of Titanic. The Enquiry took place from May 2^nd to July 3^rd 1912.  There was Legal representation on behalf of many groups affected by the tragedy and a right to cross examine the witnesses.

“I was on watch from 4pm to 6pm in the evening on the Sunday with the Chief and Sixth Officers.

The course was altered to S36W true at 5.50pm.

I had seen reports in the Chartroom of ice and that conveyed in my mind that the ship would shortly be in the region of ice. The chart had been marked two or three days previously and although I don’t recall I have been told that I marked the chart between 4 and 6 that day, On returning to the Bridge for my 8pm to midnight duty I didn’t see any further marks on the chart.

It was a clear night and I was making stellar observations. It didn’t occur to me that the ship was entering the neighbourhood of ice.

I was coming out of the Officers Quarters and heard three bells which marked the sighting of the iceberg. Just after that I heard the order “hard a-starboard” and when back on the Bridge the telegraph indicated “full speed astern” and I saw the First Officer pulling the lever of the watertight doors.

Captain Smith was on deck and asked the First Officer what had happened. He replied that we had struck ice. He had tried to round it to Port but it was too close. Putting the engines astern was all that he could do.

I went to the Starboard but I could not see the iceberg. Going down to the Third Class Accommodation of ‘F’ Deck I saw no damage but back on deck I saw ice and took a small piece from a man’s hand. The Commander told me to find the Carpenter who told me the ship was making water fast. One of the Mail Clerks said that the small hold was full of water and that the watertight door was closed.

I reported to Captain Smith on the Bridge. The other Officers were called and that was between 20 to 30 minutes after the accident.

The Captain gave the order to prepare the boats and I was assigned to Number One on the Port side.

Then I heard someone report a sighting of a light ahead and I saw it. On the Chartroom Map I worked out the position and after notifying the Captain he told me to take it to the Marconi Room. The lights were the two masthead of a steamer. I sent up between half a dozen and a dozen distress rockets to signal the steamer and then we began Morsing. She was about five miles away and turning around very slowly. The Captain saw her stern light so she was actually going away from us.

 

Titanic was standing still with engines stopped. I kept sending up the rockets for about half an hour after.

I was then sent away in Boat 2 with between 25 and 30 women, several children and one male passenger as well as crew members of a Steward and Sculleryman. As the boat had been lowered I could see many passengers on the deck and filling Boat 4.

I noticed that Boat 1 had got away and the collapsible boat was being made ready. I had an emergency lamp on my boat but others did not, I had inspected the lifeboats in Belfast.

There were no further orders about what to do after getting onto the water. I was off a short distance but someone shouted for me to come back to the Starboard side. That proved difficult because there weren’t enough persons to row. About 200 yards off the foundering ship there was a little suction from the settling down of the vessel which could be seen by watching the deck lights and for that and the risk of being rushed by passengers and overwhelmed I though it too dangerous to go any nearer.

I pulled away further in a SE direction about half a mile.

I did not see the ship sink but heard cries after. I could not see any other boats as they had gone in a northerly direction.

 I did not see anyone in the water and there was no-one to pick up.

At daybreak I saw a lot of icebergs.

The lifeboat of Joseph Boxall and its survivors was the first from the Titanic to be picked up by The Carpathia as it arrived on the scene having responded to the distress signals.

Joseph Boxall had been unwell during his time giving evidence and Counsel for the Enquiry suggested he sat for the duration. He later developed pleurisy no doubt exacerbated by his own ordeal. He returned to the sea serving in the rank of Lieutenant on Torpedo Boats and Shore Duty during the First World War and in the 1920’s on Passenger Liners. After retirement from the service he led a quiet life but to the surprise of many who knew him he was an on-set Consultant in 1958 for the iconic Titanic movie “ A Night to Remember” .

Boxall requested his ashes be scattered according to his calculations on the fateful night of the location where Titanic sank.

The former family home on Westbourne Avenue, Hull has a Blue Plaque in his name.

 

 

 

 

For Fawkes Sake

Last thursday evening I stood briefly in the hallway of the birthplace of Guy Fawkes in York.

I was not on a pilgrimage or following in the footsteps of the cult hero and stylish beard wearer but stepped inside because it was a cold night and the building has for many years operated as a bar and eatery and was warm and inviting.

A good proportion of those shopping, posing or just wandering about the historic city seemed to have the same destination because there was no available seating, hardly any standing room and certainly no prospect of getting served at the bar, already four deep with persons, each trying to persuade the single indifferently cool barman that their displayed and waved banknotes were any more acceptable as legal tender.

Just resting the back of my legs on a scorchingly hot radiator for a few minutes was as much a reviver as a stiff drink and so much less of an outgoing.

I was in a good position to just gaze casually around. Perhaps the place had not really changed all that much since Mr Fawkes had lived there and the decor, shabby chic, suggested a fairly minimal amount of cash had been spent internally, but why should it be necessary given the pedigree and provenance of such a place. The wood panelling was stained black which accentuated its old age although there was some suggestion of charring and scoring from fire damage which I speculated may have been from some early-years arsonist tendencies from the former celebrity resident.

My visit to High Petergate was five days before Guy Fawkes Night or just Bonfire Night as it is referred to in non-contentious, neutral political and inoffensive speak. Already and every night for some preceding days there had been regular jarring disturbance from exploding fireworks of every conceivable tone and reverberation as mischievous youths and anarchic adults could not wait for the actual night of commemoration/celebration.

I had noticed that this year there was no problem whatsoever in tracking down a supply of fireworks with seemingly every sales outlet offering discount prices and special offers. The austerity and, until last week officially, recessionary conditions affecting the UK economy seem to have by passed the fireworks industry. There remains and contrary to all trends and frugality a willingness of the general public to spend their hard earned cash in large amounts  on items that explode and disappear in a puff of smoke and possibly not as satisfyingly loud a bang as you might have hoped for ,given the outlay.

The purchase of fireworks represents a great opportunity for one-upmanship, unfortunately an extension of other but less noisy forms of competition in everyday life. It also represents the highest form of rebellion without usually incurring the attention of the law or other Civil sanctions. As a means of acting in an anti social manner in the setting afire of things, bombarding the neighbours, terrorising local animals and handling explosives it cannot be rivalled. I speak from personal experience as a red blooded male with very few activities left available for misbehaving and acting my shoe size (Imperial not Continental Sizing).

The actual reason for 5th November clouds into insignificance amongst the commercial hype and merchandising.

The date in 1605 represented a difficult period in the history of this Nation and although it is one of those stock dates firmly entrenched in memory from schooldays I would challenge many of the current population to providing a reasonable explanation of why it was significant enough to have lasted beyond such comparable events as (in no particular order) , 'Canutes wet sock day', 'Alfred burn the cakes day', 'King John's Lost Treasure Day', 'Is that something in your eye, Harold day',' Queen Victoria's not very amused day' and other historical milestones.

I am not trying to appear superior in my knowledge of the Gunpowder Plot but wasn't it just an amazing coincidence that Guy Fawkes' fellow conspirators were called Billy Bonfire, Freddie Firework and Robbie Rocket.

A History of a Family- Part 6- Marmite

 The BBC recently ran a radio series with the help of the British Museum on 100 objects that shaped or contributed to the history of the world. These ranged from statues to coins and from toys to modern technology. I have tried to achieve the same sense of significance but in relation to our family for a few objects lying around the house currently or remembered from growing up.

Part 6. Marmite

After my comments in a previous blog about the origins of one of the ingredients for fruit gums from the leather tanning process you may be entirely justified in expressing surprise that the subject of my last family history series is another substance dredged out of an industrial process.

Although often associated with a meaty and beefy taste this is as far from the actuality as could be imagined. Marmite is a yeast extract. The original producers, long since absorbed by an American Corporation were based in Burton upon Trent, logically and logistically the ideal location just downwind in terms of proximity to the large commercial breweries that provided considerable employment, wealth and celebrity to the town. As a student, when it was not practical to otherwise cycle from Nottingham to home, some 90 miles or so, I would take the train and the line ran through and paralell to the huge operational plants. The hop silos, stainless steel vat and pipes proudly bore such British institutional brand names as Carling, Worthington and Bass and later Marstons and Coors. I was always aware of the approach to Burton upon Trent because it was soon in view  after passing through Tamworth where the Reliant car factory was and in the open ground close to the lines it was always interesting to see the fibre glass shells of the three wheeler Robins but incongruously next to the aggressive and quite well regarded Scimitar sports coupe.

The success of Marmite, also the french name for a large cooking pot as depicted on the classic label, also launched the Bovril product. In my mind it is an insult to Marmite to include that other stuff in the same breath and sentence. I had a bad experience with Bovril whilst holding a jar above head to try to see how much was left. The same exercise with Marmite holds no hazards but I did not allow for the looser, runnier composition also encouraged by inappropriate storage in a warm pantry cupboard and the grainy, bovine
derivative took some effort to wash out.

Through my teenage years I began collecting Marmite jars. I should qualify that these were not empty, washed out and clean but still each contained perhaps half a teaspoon. I was sure that yeast extract was indestructible and so with a tightly fitting old style metal lid there were no concerns over the nurture of a globally contagious bio-plague. I proudly had on display in my bedroom a full set of the different sized jars and a good number of spares behind the best example in each category. The collection went everywhere with me at key stages in my life.

Marmite went well with everything. Not just the fundamental toast topping but complientary on top of cheese, with scrambled egg, stirred into gravy or direct into a meat pie. A generous knife edge was required to thickly cover a slice of bread for a packed lunch sandwich and with enough left to be lavishly licked off the blade. I am aware that there are those who may feel a bit nauseous at this stage if they have not been brought up proper to love Marmite.

I was very upset by the sellout of the brand but ultimately reassured by the fact that there is little scope to spoil such a perfect taste. There has been an attempt to broaden the product range by packaging changes and collaboration with other brands. Most ridiculous has been a squeezy tube effect jar- what were they thinking. Most exploitative was the Guinness venture with limited edition production runs with jars traded on E-Bay rather than opened up and spread for enjoyment. Most trendy was its addition as flavouring on rice cakes. The commercial possibilities are potentially endless and no doubt there is a whole department within the Unilever skycraper dedicated to the infiltration of Marmite into the emerging economies. What next- Marmite flavoured rice, poppadoms and noodles? I was amused to hear that Stateside super and hypermarkets stock the product in their ethnic foods section.

My own children are fans of Marmite and the association with our family appears to bode well for continuation of this love affair into the future. My Mother has told me that on our return to the house from a night out on the town, as young adults, she and Father could only really relax and get to sleep in the early hours to the sound of the front door being locked and the noise and smells from the production of cups of tea and marmite on toast permeating up the stairs from the kitchen.

A History of Family -Part 5- Scandinavian Furniture

 The BBC recently ran a radio series with the help of the British Museum on 100 objects that shaped or contributed to the history of the world. These ranged from statues to coins and from toys to modern technology. I have tried to achieve the same sense of significance but in relation to our family for a few objects lying around the house currently or remembered from growing up.

Part 5. Scandinavian Furniture

A few bits of furniture get handed down through the family from one generation to another and between households within the close family and in-laws. It does take a lot of income and effort to fit out a house in order for it to operate as a going and growing concern. We have bought some items at Auction Sales, other second hand outlets and the rest on a cash purchase or interest free schemes from one or more of the out of town centre retail parks.

Not everything has survived but most items have served with distinction bearing the proud scars of shoe buckles, the scorch rings of cups of hot beverages, upended spillages of carbonated and soft drinks, fragments of crisps and random crumbled biscuits, various bodily fluids and age wrinkled leather cushions. The rubber-wood dining table and six chairs is just about holding out but has required some crude patching and bracing repairs using wedges of wood and glue to keep the legs straight and solid. One of the chairs is beyond salvage being very unstable and it is always a last minute manouevre to direct away friends and relatives intent on taking up that place setting in order to avoid injury, embarassment and a civil action.

The childrens bedrooms had started off in a pine furniture theme. The girls shared with matching single beds, heavy pine headboards and large carved acorns and the look was complimented by a large waxed pine wardrobe and chest of drawers. Our son, perhaps ahead of his time, got a metal fabrication of high level bed accessible by a vertical ladder with upholstered sofa bed and a ledge desk below. The altitude at which he slept was quite close to the ceiling and must, on reflection, have been quite a terrifying and lonely experience being so detached from the rest of the household.

The decision was made on practical and stylish grounds to go for the Swedish range through IKEA. A store had opened up beyond Leeds, some distance from home but very easy to get to on the M62 motorway. We had not experienced anything like it before, well not since the Habitat store closed in Hull. The IKEA store was huge. A low, sprawling retail shed painted corporate blue and with flashes of yellow from the National flag and colours.

We were unsure of how to proceed from the wide, bright entrance but were soon swept up in the relentless stream of customers, some determined purchasers and those just out for the day. The children grabbed handfuls of the small unfinished wood pencils and the tape measures and us parents followed shouldering a large in-store shopping bag. Whether very clever marketing or the only way to fit the stock under one roof the progress through the building was tortuous along very winding and quite disorientating pathways. The Scandanavians may well have modelled the store on a typical mythical journey through the mountain passages of their uplands or the densely packed forests of the hinterland. I was getting quite dizzy and woozy under the artificial lighting and atmosphere. Again, very clever or practical is the location of the cafe/restaurant and rest area midway along the quest through the store. A bit like a very welcome leafy glen during an arduous trek.

On first impression the room displays and assembled furniture was very striking. Not altogether surprising for a nation known for its innovative design and flair through such brands as Volvo, Saab, Dime Bars, Abba and pornography. We marked off in our catalogue those pieces that would go well in the childrens rooms. There were cabin beds with clever concealed storage for toys, clothes and bedding. Desks could take a PC and TV and with shelf and drawer space so that the children would not ever have to leave their rooms until for University. We speculated on a large display unit for the dining room. We left that day with nothing apart from countless pencils, tape measures and night lights.

A few days later I returned in, yes, you guessed it, the Volvo estate car to purchase and collect a long list of furnishings. It was only after struggling to push the largest trolley to the checkout that I realised the potential problem of getting the whole lot into the car. I would have to flatten all the seats and squash my chest cavity to the steering wheel to get maximum load bay depth. I looked at my son who had come along to help and wondered if IKEA had something like an overnight creche. Although all in flat pack boxes some were exceptionally long. It was a bit like a reverse Jenga game to load, unload, re-arrange, swear, load, recover my son from under the packaging, load, move son again and so on until the trolley was empty and the tailgate could very carefully be lowered and pressed shut. My son was somewhere behind the flat passenger seat. If I avoided heavy braking I would get him home in one piece.

The car tyres were, under the laden weight, almost rubbing in the wheel arches. The car was dangerously and recklessly overloaded. Fortunately it was now 9pm on a winters evening and my chances of attracting the attention of the motorway police was much reduced. My vehicle would have warranted a full 30 minute slot on STOP POLICE!. The journey home was very cautious. I averaged 56 mph and the in car computer recorded my best ever fuel economy at 66mpg which was unprecedented.

The assembly from flat packs was equally traumatic. The operation took up a whole room plus overspill. The generation of litter and waste was frightening. Clear and plain English instructions were very helpful and the diagrams easy to follow. Slowly and not altogether surely the 'whatever' would emerge from the one dimension into a full multi dimensional shape. Tricky bits included fitting in the shelves and the flexible sides and backs. As each piece of furniture was assembled and then moved to its resting place I noticed quite a collection of residual bolts, screws, nails, plastic fittings and metal widgets type things. Was this a matter for concern? Eventually all rooms were furnished. The composition was mainly veneer covered chipboard but there was still a very pleasant aroma of freshly cut wood. Eyes closed we could well have been in a forest anywere between Stockholm and Uppsala.

From the first day of use the IKEA furniture started to gradually fall apart.

Last weekend marked the demise of the last stubborn IKEA item. I struggled up the metal steps at the Civic Amenity Site with the violently dismantled parts of the 'Billy Bookcase' before launching them into the huge waste skip. As I glanced into the gloom I was certain that, but in no particular order, the whole of Aisle D section 4 of the Leeds IKEA store had been relocated to the same fate.

A History of a Family-Part 4 Greek Art

 The BBC recently ran a radio series with the help of the British Museum on 100 objects that shaped or contributed to the history of the world. These ranged from statues to coins and from toys to modern technology. I have tried to achieve the same sense of significance but in relation to our family for a few objects lying around the house currently or remembered from growing up.

Part 4- Greek Art

The current austerity measures being endured by the Greek nation are so far detached from our perception of their lifestyle that the impact is very difficult to appreciate. Most Brits, having experienced a summer holiday in Greece, will certainly upon returning to our cold and drudgingly boring shores, not be able to resist a daydream for a moment on the romantic aspects of selling up everything here and starting up a Taverna or Restaurant in the wonderfully warm climate and fantastic scenery of that country. In reality, the only business opportunities may be in the Greek equivalent of Scunthorpe or running a mini-mart, heaven forbid, only frequented by pink skinned English tourists looking to buy McCain oven chips and frozen Goodfellas pizza.

As a family our first foreign holiday involving air travel was to the Ionian Island of Keffalonia. We joked about the name of the place. Why do second hand car salesman like the island?  Because it has only had one careful owner. Boom boom. We were complete novices when it came to foreign travel . The package trip was through one of the main companies and I think we were quite shocked at the cattle market type approach from being herded into the queues at the airport, poked up on to the plane, force fed from a trough type tray and then released, eyes blinking to become accustomed to the glaring sun and initially startling heat at our destination.

We had dressed for the whole journey in what we thought was sensible attire to cope with the dual climate of Manchester and Greece. We had misjudged the whole thing and amongst a plane load of replica football shirted passengers we must have looked like we had got lost on the way to a garden party. The first few hours on Greek soil were a complete blur. We had lost all sense of time after a very early arrival for our flight and some prior days of excitement interrupted sleep. It was about early afternoon as we boarded the coach for the transfer to our accommodation.

The road journey gave a brief glimpse of the island but only about ten feet ether side because of the very narrow lanes and either a precipitous drop to the sea below or a towering rocky cliff above. As our fellow travellers were dropped off in what appeared to be barren locations apart from a gate and steep footpath to whatever they had booked to stay in we became increasingly anxious about where we would be deposited. The brochure photo of our self catering apartment was very vague and blurry, a white rectangle heavily cloaked in foliage with a lawn in front.

The actual place was in fact a white rectangle heavily cloaked in foliage. There were three rooms for the five of us, one being the living area doubling up as a twin room plus folding Z bed for the children. The kitchen was a small galley. The shower room had a dry toilet. This was bemusing and quite frightening for an English family who were experts in flushing lavatories on any excuse or whim. Exhausted as we were I volunteered to go out to find food. I had no map, a distorted sense of direction in a foreign place, no comprehension of the Greek language and unsuitable footwear for the scorching road surface. I was not even sure where things like towns and shops were.

After a slog up the hill behind the apartment and down the other side I could not see any signs of civilisation. There were roadside shrines every few metres but I was not sure if these were for lost tourists or deceased locals. At last I reached Argostoli, the main town on the island. The first shop that looked like a general store loomed up like a mirage to my parched, dehydrated but curiously sweaty form. I played safe on the purchases in the absence of McCain oven chips or Goodfellas pizza.

The freshly minted Euro note I handed over to the proprietor brought him out in spasms of anxiety. It must have been a huge denomination and after some mutual progress through my perspiration soaked money belt he took a selection of lower numbered notes and seemed very happy. I was now faced with the return walk, considerably more drained than when I had set out and now with two plastic bags of bulky carbohydrates,sweets and other consumables. I must have looked quite a sight as I struggled back to the hillside road.

After some miles I was aware of a car moving slowly up behind me as though stalking my every move. I hoped that I was not going to have a shrine dedicated in my memory from a drive-by incident. As the car pulled alongside an English voice offered me a lift. The driver was staying in the same apartment building, had seen us arrive on the coach and thankfully had recognised me. That was not the best of starts to the Greek holiday. It did get considerably better and we fell one hundred percent for the climate and relaxed lifestyle. Vacations in the British Isles had always been a matter of cramming as much in to every hour as possible. The Greek equivalent was to do a bit in the cool of the morning, keep out of the sun for much of the day or immersed in a swimming pool, avoid being seen amongst the shops when closed for the protracted lunchtime of the locals and then emerge for a full 8 hours of casual activity from about 5pm.

Towards the end of our 2 weeks it was that time to buy souvenirs for family at home and as a good memento of our stay. In the clock tower gallery of Argostoli we had seen a painting of a sad youth in bright colours on what looked like the lid of a crate of citrus fruit. Three short lengths of wood with twin cross bracings at the back. The colours were vivid and the young subject was wistful and enigmatic with pronounced cheek bones, dark hazel brown eyes and cloaked in a bright red robe. Upon expressing an interest in the painting we were introduced to the artist. She explained that the character was Telemachus, the son of Odysseus who originated from the island of Ithaca which was only a short boat ride from the north east shore of Keffalonia. The young warrior had set out to look for his father who had been missing for 20 years. Apparently, something had kicked off involving his mother and his dad's attendance was required to deter the unwelcome attentions of some potential usurpers to his position as head of the dynasty. Telemachus and his errant father returned to wreak a horrible fate on the pretenders and the rest is set in legend. The background to the painting sealed our intention to buy it and what would have been our Duty Free budget was blown on five bits of overpainted wood.

The picture retains its vivacity and dynamism  even today after many years of being displayed at the foot of our stairs. As holiday souvenirs go it knocks a stuffed donkey into a cocked sombrero.

A History of a Family - Part 3. Brass Weigh Scales

 The BBC recently ran a radio series with the help of the British Museum on 100 objects that shaped or contributed to the history of the world. These ranged from statues to coins and from toys to modern technology. I have tried to achieve the same sense of significance but in relation to our family for a few objects lying around the house currently or remembered from growing up.

Part 3- Brass Weigh Scales

In movies depicting major narcotics rings there is always a massive array of cash counting machines churning through the ill gotten gains of illicit business. The hoodlums and their lackies bring in grubby high denomination notes and in the first stage of laundering, call it a pre-wash, these are shovelled into the ticky-clicky machines, totted up and then wrapped in an elastic band in wads of say, £1000. Beyond that process is not always shown but usually involves a small bespectacled man walking away,with a limping gait, with an attache case.

In most supermarkets there sits in the entrance or in the corner near the toilets, a large Coinstar machine into which all ages of customers pour their loose-change for noisy counting followed by an often pleasant smile at how much has been accumulating in the Bells Whisky bottle or oversized pasta jar. The only disappointment is where a small accompanying child participates by pressing the 'Donate' button rather than the 'Collect' one.

On the fairly regular visits to the branch of Lloyds Bank where my father was Manager in the 1970's I would marvel at the swift manual counting skills of the staff. The essential tools to perform this skill were a ribbed rubber thimble and/or a small petrie dish sized glass bowl with a moist sponge. Fingers flashed through the paper notes with great dexterity and mental concentration only briefly interrupted by the need to dip a forefinger in the water in order to lubricate the process.

Just along the counter and for the weighing and bagging process of coins was a magnificent set of brass scales.

This stood about 2 feet high, originally bright and brash but with the metalwork having built up an immunity to the abrasive polishing by Brasso or other treatments over many decades. The colour was now tarnished but faintly gold in hue.  The scales were a tripod in appearance but embellished with mouldings and brazings which added to the majestic status. Chain links were looped at the top over a hook and run down equidistant to a tea plate sized dish on both sides. The central armature could be adjusted to balance out the scales with the fine tuning of a metronome. The two dishes rested just above counter level but could be raised with a pivoted lever to give a visual confirmation of a balance.

Complimentary to the scales was a full set of cast brass weights. These were fascinating to play with. The graduated weights could be carefully stacked one in another to form a small but dense pyramidal tower. These ranged in our young minds from miniscule polo mint sized through to a hefty Burtons chocolate wagon wheel size. The weights were actually engraved in antique script and imperial measures from half an ounce to 1 ounce , 2 ounce and then at regular increases through 4 and 8 ounces up to the 1 pound, 2 pound and 4 pound weights. The combination of these eight weights could be used to assess the customer assembled contents of small pre-printed coin bags. This rapidly speeded up the counter process and made for happy customers. The set of scales were, in the modern banking age, surplus to requirements but represented a very strong symbol of commerce and banking that gave reassurance to savers and borrowers, investors and shareholders.

My father worked in banking for 40 years at a time when it was a greatly sought after and respected career. I was very conscious of the very high regard in which my father was held in our town and community as Branch Manager. He was trusted by personal and business customers, small and large Corporate concerns and gave good, sound and impartial advice.

Those were the days of banking when the Manager was able to endorse any request for a loan or a mortgage because there was a long term relationship with the customer and an understanding of what was really required and not as today an opportunity to cross sell everything from life insurance to car and health insurance.

Like a set of scales my father was a steady and dependable pair of hands in a fast changing and, unfortunately, an increasingly distrustful world.

A History of a Family- Part 2. Nautical Chart

 The BBC recently ran a radio series with the help of the British Museum on 100 objects that shaped or contributed to the history of the world. These ranged from statues to coins and from toys to modern technology. I have tried to achieve the same sense of significance but in relation to our family for a few objects lying around the house currently or remembered from growing up.

Part 2- Nautical Chart

The true environment for a Nautical Chart would be rolled up cocooned in others on a table in the wheelhouse of a seagoing vessel. Whilst treasured and meticulously preserved each chart would be able to convey its own story through signs of wear and tear, wind whipped edges, pencilled scribblings by way of observed amendments, the faded stains of a well earned fortified cup of tea, salt spray, sweat and tears and perhaps a few traces of fish entrails.

It was a hard decision to make but the May 1974 Gnonomic issue for England-East Coast at a scale of 1:50000 is now framed up and takes pride of place in our dining room.Whilst produced under the Superintendence of Rear Admiral G P D Hall, Hydrographer of the Navy, the chart belonged to George Brown, my father in law. He knew the area of coverage extremely well as it figured significantly through his lifetime. The northern landfall extremity of the chart shows just above the East Coast town of Withernsea and with the bottom right hand corner the dunes and marshes of the Lincolnshire coast below Grimsby. Farthest west is an inset panel of how to navigate up the Humber to Goole and below that a further extract of the entrance to the River Trent.

The course of the Humber meanders mightily as befits its role of draining one fifth of the landmass of England. To the east, the North Sea with navigation guidance as far as the former mooring position of the Humber Lightship. George was born in the port city of Kingston upon Hull in 1929. In his teens he was working on the river on low slung commercial barges which plied between the thriving Hull docks and the inland riverside towns. These vessels were the HGV's of their time carrying coal, fuel oil, grain and bulk goods in large and regular shipments.

George was on the river during the early part of the second world war and will have witnessed and indeed been exposed to the incessant airborne bombing raids on the docks and wider urban area in the peak blitz years of 1941 to 1943. His maritime experience, even though he was still under the age for conscription to the military was important and he was soon to be working much more hazardous waters on the lifeline provided to wartime allies by the Arctic convoys.

After the war George took again to the sea but in a much warmer climate and was stationed in Malta in RAF Air Sea Rescue aboard what will have been former motor torpedo boats and also as flight crew on the Sunderland Flying Boats.

George was a grafter and provider for his family working, in civilian life in the large industrial plants of Hull and also on the Blackburn Aircraft production line at Brough some 7 miles west of the city. The 1974 navigation chart was acquired by George to go with his ownership of a sea-cobble fishing boat maintained and shore-berthed at Tunstall on the Holderness Coast.

The North Sea was still a very productive fishing ground at that time and the vessel provided access well offshore to reach the stocks of fat fleshy Cod, in particular, now very sadly depleted and emaciated by comparison.

Beach angling was also a favourite pursuit of George and the chart illustrates the sheer size and scale of the annual competitions which would attract participants from all over the country, Europe and the world who would draw pegs at regular spots along the full length of the Holderness Coast from Spurn Point to Bridlington.

The chart is a technical document essential to an understanding and safe negotiation of a major and very busy watercourse but for George it was also the key to a very active and enjoyable lifelong association with things maritime.

A History of a Family Part 1= Africa

 

History of a Family (Part 1)

The BBC recently ran a radio series with the help of the British Museum on 100 objects that shaped or contributed to the history of the world. These ranged from statues to coins and from toys to modern technology. I have tried to achieve the same sense of significance but in relation to my family for a few objects lying around the house currently or remembered from growing up. The series is repeated from some time in 2011.

Part 1; Africa

I never really knew and have great difficulty actually remembering my Grandfather on my father's side of the family. He died when I was about 4 or 5 years old. My only recollection is of a very strong smell of cigarettes in his presence and how he would produce from his cardigan a packet of sweet cigarettes for us when it was time to leave and go home. Other fragments of information came from my late father and a few bits of furniture or inherited objects that came with Gran when she moved in for the last 10 or so years of her long and generally healthy life. My grandfather worked for the Bank of British West Africa which helped to introduce modern banking to that part of the African continent. He travelled widely and had associations with business and trade in Liberia and I think Sierra Leone. Two objects that fascinated me as a small child epitomised the myths surrounding my grandfather.

The first is actually a pair of crocodiles. I am not sure if I contributed to loss of the lower jaw of one of the figures but I was not to know that carved ivory was quite brittle when roughly handled in play. They are about 6 inches long, perfectly straight, and with a girth of about the middle finger. The jaws have cerrated teeth and a gaping hole of a mouth that served well as a rest for a pencil or rolled up balls of plasticine but for which it was never intended. The reptiles had a flat belly underside and could sit flat and level on display. The tail tapered to a sharp point and the whole body had a raised series of scales. I would usually head for the crocodiles first in visiting the rather dark and grim inter war semi detached house where my grandparents lived.

The second object of fascination is a carved upright figure, standing about eight inches tall. It was skillfully carved by a native African out of a single piece of light, almost balsa or cork wood. This will have been sourced from what remained of a once extensive equitorial forest but decimated under a two pronged attack to clear land for farming and to provide fuel for a village hut or smallholding farmstead. The figure is very much a caricature, comic but authoritative, of a Colonial Officer, perhaps a Civil Servant or even a Missionary or Teacher. I liked to think, when young, that it was loosely based on my grandfather. The uniform includes a pith helmet in white pigment but now very much faded to a pale washy hue. The hat is removeable and has done well to accompany the figure through many Spring Cleans and a few house removals.  His facial features are sharp with a regular but dominating nose starting well up on the forehead. The eyes are almond shaped, almost feminine in appearance. Thick fleshy lips sit above a proud chin. There remains some trace of a sunburnt skin tone but with bleaching and blotching from catching the sunlight after close to a century of exhibition and play. Attired in a khaki safari suit the figure is quite dapper. The skill of the carver has produced faint folds of linen and the suit is well tailored but cool for the sweltering climate. Incongruously the man is wearing boots with quite a Cuban heel and retaining a bright burnt-umber shade to depict leather. The pose is sitting or rather perching on a bench and at a desk to symbolise a position of relative power and control in the Colony. The desk is typical for a Board School furnishing. Stout vertical supports, low bracing bar doubling up as a footrest, hinged heavy lid, inset ink well and a groove for a writing implement. The front face of the desk has symbols of a circle and triangle, almost masonic but not thought to be of any significance or menace.

The figure is a personalised souvenir of Empire because it was individually carved with patience and artistic understanding. It may well have been one, however, of thousands of similar brought to the river bank or quayside, city square or hotel steps, railway platform or other embarKation point to be thrust into the view or hands of departing Civil Servants, Financiers, Businessmen, Private Tourists and my Grandfather.

Turbine or not Turbine?

 

Windy Miller

There was uproar amongst the villagers when proposals became known for the erection of a wind powered turbine in their very back yard.

The usual emotional sentiments were expressed chiefly on the theme of why it had to be in their otherwise unspoiled area when there were plenty of wide open and unpopulated spaces elsewhere in the county. Rumour and hearsay thrived amongst the residents. There was an unfounded story from another parish where the constant whirring of just such a turbine drove man and beast to a state of demented frenzy and the weaker amongst the respective species threw themselves to an untimely death in a canal or a quarry or under the wheels of some vehicle or other or died of natural causes some years later .

Another tale was of a lady renowned for her special powers in things future and unworldly who claimed that the rotation of the turbine interfered with signals to her from the 'other' side.

In particularly stormy conditions in a southern county someone recalled hearing about  turbine blades which had become severed from their tower and had pirouetted and spiralled through the village causing considerable damage to property and possessions.

Sporadic combustion of similar buildings was quite well known and could be substantiated in fact rather than being a subject of fiction.

The representatives of the Consortium, out of town Land Agents, behind the project put their case to a meeting around the village pump amongst barracking and jeering from an almost full contingent of the residents and a few curious by-standers who happened to be out  rambling from the city.

The proposed location, it was argued,  was ideal on the basis of its elevation and exposure to the prevailing westerly winds.

There was good access to the road network and for the benefit of those for whom the turbine would provide a mechanism for wealth and amenity.

There was to be direct employment for one operator and a house to be built adjacent for occupation by their family.

The spin-off prospects for other jobs in the village and surroundings were expected to be good particularly for those in the transport, haulage, distribution and marketing sectors.

Aesthetically the tower would be quite unobtrusive. Painted black the slender 74 foot high structure with a traditional ogee cap and the four bladed turbine atop would blend in with the hillside and be a mere vertical stripe against the skyline. Such was the design that it was anticipated that the building would attain local landmark status and reflect well on the forward thinking members of the village as being progressive and modern.

When put to a vote the motion to build the structure was passed unanimously. This was not really surprising as the only persons eligible to put their signatures on the paperwork were the Consortium comprising the main land owners and financiers. The rest of the population were largely silent as they were in the employment and tied housing of the aforementioned privileged few as agricultural workers, domestic staff or otherwise beholding for their livelihoods in trade and commerce.

The wind turbine as mentioned , more quaintly called a windmill was erected at Skidby Village, East Yorkshire in 1821 by Robert Garton, a millwright of nearby Beverley. It was heightened in 1878-1879 but any protests at that time were not recorded for posterity. The windmill was restored to operation in 1974 and is regularly open to the public to this day. 

The arguments against and for a wind turbine remain ostensibly the same from the early 19th Century to the present day

A Bridge Too Near

An idyllic cottage. Newly built but in sympathetic external rendering and under a smooth slate roof. In a few years and with a bit of natural weathering the house will look as though it has been there for a century.

It would not look out of place on a seafront promenade or on one of those steep sided coastal locations running down to a picturesque harbour. 

It is the style that appeals to those seeking a weekend or seasonal holiday rental promising a bit of character but at the same time providing all of the mod cons that would make it a home from home for the duration.

The architectural style is Victoriana. A flaunched stack, corbelled stringer course to the upper wall, reconstituted stone cills, pebble dash and a cutesy timber porch with weatherboarding and finial post.

For those who would purchase outright it is something a bit different to that available in the brochures of the big National builders. It is far from a box even though the interior would vary little from most off the peg offerings on the large bleak residential estates which fringe our cities or infill our old industrial and manufacturing sites.

As with most things to do with property the key factor is location. The photograph below shows the view of the house from the rear garden. There is the same appeal in terms of individuality and style and with a nice feature being a traditional single storey off-shoot providing a utility room rather than a pantry or outhouse loo. The eye is however drawn to the concrete structure just visible above and to the left of the roof and a collection of thin cables running paralell.

In a more expanded view the purpose of the imposing structure is clear. It is the north tower of the Humber Bridge.

What are the implications for the residents of the picturesque cottage as a consequence of the proximity to this major estuary crossing point? 

It is hellishly noisy. 

The elevated carriageway is some 150 feet above the house roof level and there is a constant clanging as vehicles hit the expansion strip between the road section where it becomes part of the suspension sections.

The view from the front of the property is interesting but possibly a bit of a deal breaker.

Oh, and did I mention it is at high risk of being flooded whenever the mighty Humber (which drains some 25% of the surface area of the UK) has a surge and breaches its current defences?

Buying a House by Text Messages

This piece celebrates the 11th  anniversary of moving into our new home. The transaction was almost entirely progressed through text messages. 

They took place in real time between July 4th 2013 and 5th September 2013

Some names have been changed but other details are authentic 

(For those living in the London, UK catchment, yes, it is possible to buy a great house for what we paid)

Hello. My wife has seen your For Sale Board in the front window. We are very Interested in your Town House. Own property under offer in Hessle, Any Chance to view? Peter

Hi Peter, thanks for the text. I am away in Greece at the moment. Of course a viewing would be fine. Are you interested in sale or renting? Jill.

Looking to buy. Do you have a guide price in mind?

The house is being updated with full double glazing, full insulation and it has a new condensing boiler. Looking for offers around £165,000.

Definitely interested. What would be arrangements to view?

I am back late weds next week so anytime thursday or friday would be fine.

I will contact you thursday morning if that's ok

Yes, that's fine.

Hope your travelling was ok. Is it possible to arrange a viewing say 6.30pm to 7.00pm

Yes Peter.That will be fine.7pm would be good for me. The house is still in the middle of being worked on so it's upside down at the moment. It should be finished in a couple of weeks for a true impression. Look forward to seeing you later, 7pm at the back.

See you then. Thank You.

Jill, Thank you for the tour of the house. We love it. It would suit us ideally and will be making an offer in a few days if all on track with our sale. If you want to check our progress our solicitor is Heather Midwinter at Sandersons. I would like to instruct my Surveyor next week but will be guided by you with the works underway. Thanks. Peter and Allison.

Hi Peter and Allison. It was very nice to meet you and your family last night. Whilst I am happy with your interest in the house and the ideas you have put forward regarding your solicitor, etc I feel I must point out that I do have other viewings from buyers which I must continue with until your offer comes in. Again, if you would like a surveyor to visit an offer would naturally have to be agreed first. I don't want to rush you in any way  however I need to have something constructive to work with just as you do with your property. Kind Regards, Jill.

Jill, We would like to make an offer of £165,000 for your property subject to contract and survey. Regards, Peter and Allison.

I would like to accept your offer. What is the timescale for completion? I would like it to be ASAP. I will let you know how the building works are progressing re the surveying. If you would like another viewing just let me know, I will let you have details of my solicitor.

Jill, we are looking at 8 to 10 weeks to completion. Our estate agent can give information but we are in a small chain with first time buyers for our buyers. Speak soon

Hello Peter. I need to instruct my solicitors which will incur me costs. Please can you confirm you wish to proceed, Can I have your names and any other relevant details please. If you would like another viewing let me know. The windows should be finished towards the end of next week so a surveyor could inspect thursday/friday.

Jill. Full ahead now. I will e mail you the requested information this evening, We are away next week but contactable. Peter and Allison.

Thanks Peter

Did you receive the e mail with our details?

Hi Peter, yes thank you. I did reply to your email this morning, It was very helpful. I have a new contact at my solicitors.

Jill, Hope you are well, Is it possible to have another look around say late afternoon or evening on saturday. Regards. Peter and Allison.

Hi Peter and Allison. I am very well thank you. I hope you had a good trip. Would 7pm saturday be a suitable time to meet up?

That would be ideal,thank you

Hi Peter. It was good to meet you all again on saturday. Do you have any idea when the surveyor will be visiting the house this week. Kind regards Jill.

Jill. I have contacted the Surveyors and hope to agree terms tomorrow, I will provide them with your details to liaise direct if convenient.

That will be fine, thank you.

Has my Surveyor contacted you yet Jill?

Hi Peter. Yes he came today for about an hour. I asked him if everything was satisfactory and he said everything was in order and couldn't see any problem areas. When do you plan for the Building Society/bank one to visit.

I have paid the Valuation Fee so just appears to be down to availability of the Valuation Surveyor. I will chase up.

Thanks. That would be appreciated. I can be free to show them around to suit as soon as possible is good for me as I am planning to book a holiday in the very near future. Jill

Our buyers want to complete on 22nd August ( 3 weeks). We are working towards this for our sale but if it is not possible to synchronise the purchase of your house we will make arrangements to store furniture and stay with family. Our solicitor has been instructed to try for simultaneous transactions but will keep you informed of progress.

Hi Peter. Thank you for the update on how things are progressing. I am able to move quickly but have a mortgage tie-in until 31st August which is around £3000. I have spoken to my solicitor to ask if there is anything I can do to help the situation along. At the moment I have no problem exchanging on the 22nd August with a completion as it stands on 2nd September. I will keep in touch with any further proposals/ideas. Have you any news on the Surveyor? Jill

The appointed Surveyors should be contacting you shortly

Thanks Peter

Jill. Has the mortgage valuer been in contact yet? Peter and Allison

Hi Peter and Allison. Yes they did. Yesterday late PM, They will visit next tuesday at 11am. Kind Regards Jill.

The Surveyor came today.He said everything was fine re; the house price. He will send his report to your Building Society today, Do you have any update on exchange?

Jill. We are at our solicitors tomorrow to sign on our sale for 23rd August. For the purchase of your property I will check on status whilst at the same meeting. Your timescale is still ok so hopefully exchange pretty soon. I will update you late tomorrow,

Hi Peter. Regarding your storage and moving things twice if you would rather move things into the House on the 23rd then I am sure we can come to some arrangement after checking it out with my solicitor.

Jill. That does sound a very good proposal. I will discuss with Allison and run it past our solicitor. Speak tomorrow, thanks again. Peter

Hi Peter. Just to update you my solicitor has invited me to sign the necessary paperwork next monday 19th. Do you have any updates?

If you are signing monday we should be doing the same within a couple of days so would hope to exchange next week. Our solicitor is doing our sale and purchase so is aware that we both want to exchange at earliest date possible. Can you spare some time for Allison to view again?

Hi Peter. Allison is welcome to view, I am available next week now. Does she want to visit during the day or in the evening/tea time-ish?

I will get Allison to ring you.

Jill, Is it possible for Allison to view monday or tuesday early evening?

Peter. Tuesday early evening would be fine, Say 6.30pm

That would be great. Allison will see you then.

Jill. We have now moved out of our house following completion today. I will press our solicitors on tuesday after the Bank Holiday as everything is in place for Allison and myself to sign. We are shacked up near York for this week but contactable. Regards

Hi Peter and Allison. Thanks for the update. Do you have any news on the signing of the contracts. Jill

Jill. One local search being chased but available to sign tomorrow with exchange and completion for monday as per your timescale. On the road again from tomorrow. Peter and Allison.

Thank you, That's great.

Jill. Sorry but our solicitor is off work ill and her caseload has been passed over to a colleague. The Local Search has also been delayed until tomorrow, If you Solicitor rings ours everything will be clear.

Yes, thank you I will do so. Regards Jill

Peter and Allison. My Solicitor advises me that everything is now in order for you to proceed with exchange and completion tomorrow. Given the previous confusion please can you tell me if you are going ahead with this tomorrow and I can sort out the keys, etc.

We are all ready for tomorrow. Did you want to meet up at the house late afternoon or evening?

Can I get back to you today.I am just travelling back from Rome. Got up at 3am and don't know what/s happening tomorrow yet. I will text you around 6pm tonight. Kind Regards Jill.

That's fine Jill. Look forward to hearing from you. Hope journey goes well.

Hi Peter and Allison. Would tomorrow be ok. I can meet you anytime after 4.15pm. Jill

We can be there for 5pm

That is fine. Look forward to seeing you then. Jill

Hi Peter and Allison.Can you update me on what's happening. Are you exchanging and completing today as arranged?

Jill. In our solicitors at 1pm today, I understand our side sent over a few questions to yours yesterday. We expect everything to go through today as planned, We will contact you in a couple of hours. Peter and Allison.

Thank you both. I was just unsure how things were progressing. Jill

All signed up. Can you solicitors confirm that we have exchanged?

Hi Peter. They cannot confirm it yet, I am unable to move ahead at the moment. They have advised me that your solicitor is asking for a number of details some of which date back to 1978 and others where information was forwarded to them several weeks ago. I think this is because of the illness issue and another solicitor taking things over, Unfortunately I cannot give you the keys until completion. If all goes ahead we could meet up. I could do 4pm if that;s any good to you or after 6.30pm Please let me know your thoughts.

We have instructed our solicitor that we are happy with all of your responses and have signed to indicate this. We still expect to exchange today or simultaneously tomorrow. We are as frustrated as you are but 8 weeks from first viewing is pretty good progress.

I agree Peter. I can make 6.30pm if that's ok

Jill. Our solicitors say we have completed , Is that confirmed on your side?

Hi Peter. Yes, subject to funds arriving all is completed.

Hello Peter and Allison. Congratulations! We will meet you at the front of the house if that's ok, We will need to take readings and a screwdriver to open the water meter on the footpath. Do you have one in your car?  We are on our way now, Jill

Sounds like a good plan. Will find implement for water meter.

Two weeks later.............Jill, Hope you are well. We are loving everything about the house. Do keep in contact. Perhaps a coffee and cake on Prinny Ave some time, Peter and Allison.

Glad you are happy. Yes, cake would always be nice, (smiley face) Jill.