South East Passage

In the mid 19th Century a Hull businessman, Zachariah Pearson bequested land, then on the fringe of the urban growth for the benefit of its inhabitants. He established one of the city's best known greenspaces, of course taking his name, Pearson Park.

A grand metal archway and gates formed the principal entrance on the eastern side to the main road corridor of Beverley Road.

Philanthropic motives did have a commercial spin-off and generous plots overlooking the tree lined circulatory road and landscape including a shaped lake, tropical conservatory and statues to Queen Victoria and her Consort were sold off and developed as prestigious Villas for the wealthy and prominent in Hull Society.

These bore iconic names such as Albert House, Avon Lodge, Eastbourne Villas, Kingston Villa, Leicester Cottage,Linden House and somewhat more ephemeral ones such as Frogner (possibly named after a district of Oslo, Norway) and Elsinore (the Denmark home of Shakespeares Hamlet).

Pearson Park could be accessed by its very enthusiastic public patrons from two further entrances onto Princes Avenue serving an expanding population in the middle class Avenues area and from Park Road on the south side.

Some clever and long-sighted negotiations in this major development area for the northern suburb of Hull, by unknown parties, was able to preserve a smaller walkway in the south eastern corner through to a cul de sac, Grove Street which was accessible from Beverley Road itself.

This legal right of way may have been based on an ancient footpath or a well worn track for livestock on what would have been grazing land not long before the large scale urbanisation put pressure on land to be given up for housing.

I regularly use this passage as a shortcut from my home in the Park (third bench on the left as I call it) to a local Tesco Express, Islamic Supermarket, Indian Newsagents, Polish Butchers and English Fish and Chip Shop.

It does not, to my knowledge, have a formal name although running from Grove Street and between two Victorian residences one called Grove House it may have originally had a similar title.

I call it Shit Alley, because most of the time it is unpleasantly oppressive, dark, smelly and strewn with discarded beer cans, smashed glass bottles and all of the usual detritus of 21st Century inner city lifestyles.

The Park end is narrow and between high timber fencing. The first few seconds of turning into the passage on the way to the shops can be a bit of a gamble without due care and attention as the footway will invariably be taken up by a fast moving cyclist on the way to or coming back from work, a senior citizen trundling a wheeled shopping barrow, a young couple insistent on holding hands or a group of boisterous youths going to the pubs on Princes Avenue. There is nothing to do but let the users pass through.

There is a distinct awkwardness in meeting someone at the half way point of the passage particularly if mutual body language has not indicated the direction of the half torso turn to allow negotiation without any physical impact.

It is best not to attempt any verbal communication without a detailed knowledge of half a dozen or so world languages. Eye contact should be similarly avoided although I do give my usual nod of acknowledgement that we are making the best of a difficult situation.

The orientation from west to east does make give a wind tunnel effect at some times of the year which when laden down with carrier bags can give a momentary impression of being at the mercy of nature.The tall gable walls of the houses on either side do give a bit of shelter from rain but it is no place to linger at any time to take advantage of respite from a soaking.

Upon moving into the park , now nearly three years ago, I felt that I had discovered the passage for the first time before anyone else because of its dereliction and decay.

In the hierarchy of pioneer routes it does not figure anywhere near the likes of the North West Passage or long sought after trade corridors linking the great continents and oceans of the world but to me it has assumed an equal importance in my daily quest for provisions and services.

I have therefore developed a fondness for the footway which has manifested as an assumed ownership or at least a responsibility for its maintenance and upkeep.

In simple terms I have adopted it.

My stewardship is not anywhere near, for example, that of a Neighbourhood Watch or Conservation Society which frankly in my area comprise pretty menacing and meddling individuals who regularly accost me on my own doorstep with petitions against rented accommodation, hostels and other forms of Multiple Occupation which I refuse to sign on principal.

Mine is more of a guerilla or covert custodian role.

I operate a rapid response policy whereby I can swoop on Shit Alley in the early hours of the day or just at dusk armed with a wide plastic snow shovel, stiff bristle brush and a blue wheelie bin. The latter is, granted, a bit noisy on its small plastic wheels across the Park but against the incessant soundtrack of traffic and sirens from Beverley Road and the nearby City Centre I am just about in stealth mode.

The bin quickly fills up on each sortie.

I am careful about the presence of drug paraphenalia which is present in the rough vegetation, the occasional soiled nappy, prophylactics and glass shards but most of the waste and debris can be scooped up and deposited in the bin for later sorting and recycling. The beer cans, prone to rattling along the footway if not snagged in litter and grime, do each have a small residue of their contents and the passage, in the process of clearing can smell like an after hours lounge bar.

I have excavated a gold engagement ring from a rainwater drainage grate half way down which may have been dropped in an embrace or fight and that is now at the local Police Station in case anyone wants to claim it.

It is a dirty and labour intensive job but worth doing as the place does scrub up quite well and afterwards it is reasonably pleasant to use it .

I would hope that Zachariah Pearson would approve but then again he may be cursing the fact that he should have been able to build across the footway back in the 1860's and make a tidy profit out of his natural and modest benevolence.