Bakewell and Birmingham

Ally, the owner of Birmingham, has sent me this photo of Bakewell and Birmingham paired together for Union Canal Carriers in 1979. It was taken by Lin Rose, in Gas Street Basin. Apparently Birmingham was usually paired with Balham, which was at this time assisting with repairs to Braunston tunnel.

I like the way it looks like one of the artful digital creations that Nick posts in his reflections series - but actually its the result of photographing an old Instamatic print with a phone camera.

Thank you very much Ally and Lin.

Market failure

Another bit of the brave new world has slipped away. Perhaps it is because I am a child of the sixties (literally; born slap bang in the middle) that I have a soft spot for the hopes and ambitions, the wild dreams even, that drove the decade - epitomised by its architecture - no matter how shoddy their (frequently literally) concrete realisation or how misguided they were later (made) to appear.

In 2003/4, as I drove each day to my first proper academic job at Portsmouth, I witnessed the dismantling of the Tricorn Centre (yes, I could find some photos, copy them, check out the copyright, write an appropriate caption, and upload them, but it would be so much easier if you just did a Google image search. But please do.), an Owen Luder brute with a giant marble run attached to it. It haunted my dreams; even though I had never been inside it in reality, my unconscious self desperately sought something in its decaying concrete labrynths.

Through my next job, in Huddersfield, I discovered Queensgate Market, which tapped into my strange attraction to the tatty and tawdry, and allowed me to travel in the amazing time machine of neglect that is the sixties market hall. I was immediately hooked on this northern delicacy; literally cheap and cheerful, a place where you could still buy broken biscuits, along with duck eggs, tripe, sink plungers and other glimpses of the fast-ebbing past.. Queensgate, which opened in 1970, has in fact fared better than most. Listed (against much local opposition) in 2004, it is genuinely unique architecturally, although this didn't stop the council proposing to partially demolish and significantly alter it in 2008.  It was the 20th Century Society's Building of the Month in February 2009, and won the Concrete Society's Certificate of Excellence for a mature structure in 2007 (I am SO glad that the Concrete Society exists, and that it has a Certificate of Excellence). It appears to be thriving with a glitzy website and even (heavens) click-and -collect - and was recently named Market Hall of the Year by the National Association of British Market Authorities (apparently there are 700 to choose from). It's probably been all done up inside since I was last there as well.

As we boated around the Midlands, I  made a point of trying to visit indoor markets where possible - often it wasn't, when they weren't open every day. But Wolverhampton got a look in, and of course Cannock. Particularly poignant was the half empty but oh-so-ambitiously named Agora in Wolverton, although as it was built in 1979 it falls outside the sixties dream, and indeed lacked the requisite pastel tiling.

But there was one market hall above all others that I wanted to see, ever since I read about it on the now sadly abandoned Nothing to See Here blog: the already long-doomed, and thus beautifully preserved through neglect, Castle Market in Sheffield. We never made it to Sheffield by boat, in the end, so my ambition was thwarted for a long time. By the time I did get to Sheffield, Castle Market was enjoying a (very) mini-renaissance, with the city council promoting its use; even though it was in its death throes, they were trying to keep it cheerful and on its feet until its successor was ready to take over. As a result, some of the old signage had already gone. It had the sense of somewhere that was waiting to die, but then they all do; that is part of their attraction. They are anachronisms, far more so than their lovingly restored Victorian predecessors (those that survived, of course, from the days when they themselves were the embarrassing old relics, quietly crumbling, smelling and dribbling in the corner). Huddersfield's Queensgate is unusual in having real architectural merit and interest; for the others the interest is historical, human, and not amenable to preservation orders. There was a wild, anonymous, request to have Castle Market listed in 2010, but it was, unsurprisingly, turned down.

And now Castle Market has gone; closed for the last time on Saturday. I didn't go along to photograph its last day, but others did. Its replacement - a curvy glass box as blandly typical of its time as Castle Market was of its own - is part of an attempt to regenerate the area which was itself in the sixties the retail centre of the city, while plans for the site of Castle Market include excavating and opening up more of the ancient Sheffield Castle remains over which it was built. If you had to get rid of an old building from the sixties, you probably couldn't have picked a better one. But it is, in so many ways, a loss all the same.

Enlightened view

Well, I looked at the view out of my window this morning and something interesting had happened:



New street lamps.

I knew that the council were installing new streetlamps. They flagged it up months ago, when they were resurfacing the road. Then last week there was a letter, telling us they were going to do it now. Then holes appeared in the pavement, and then the posts for the new streetlamps. Instead of being on the kerbside like the old ones, they're on the inside of the pavement, right up against the wall, which is good as it makes parking easier and frees up extra space.

But what a surprise to look out this morning and see the new lamp, in all its retro-Victoriana glory. The sort of thing you might expect in a twee new development, or a tourist hot spot, or a museum... But not in a little cul-de-sac side street off the A57. I wonder how well it will stand up to the weather compared to the previous ones.

For anyone who would like to look at more pictures of street lamps, there are plenty here.

Street lights are interesting to economists because they represent a non-excludable public good. It's impossible to limit the enjoyment of them to the people who paid for them. Once someone has paid, everyone benefits whether they've contributed or not. This means that in a classic free market, they are unlikely to be provided. Everyone will want everyone else to pay, and no one will want to fork out for something that others will enjoy for free, at their expense. So non-excludable public goods provide a good argument for taxation to provide services. You can make it a social contract argument - everyone would be happy to pay their share, as long as they could be sure that everyone else was also paying their share, so they would willingly agree to taxation in order to ensure that everyone pays, and everyone benefits.

Folky fun and furry friend

A couple of weeks ago, Sebastian and Izzi finally came to visit me in Sheffield, and become the latest guests to test out my £40-from-Oxfam and extremely heavy and therefore obviously good sofa bed. They pronounced it very comfortable and I can vouch for the fact that it is very convenient.

The pretext for them coming at this particular juncture was to attend the Full English concert at Firth Hall (part of the University). The Full English project involves creating a searchable digital archive of a vast number of previously scattered English (and beyond) folk music manuscript collections, freely available on the web for anyone to access. Part funded by a heritage lottery grant, it was coordinated by University of Sheffield academic Fay Hield, who is also a singer (whose records I like a lot).

The Full English band comprised (let me see if I can remember) Fay Hield, Martin Simpson, Nancy Kerr, Seth Lakeman, Sam Sweeney,  Rob Halbron and Ben Nicholls. That's a lot of folk fame in one small hall. The music was great, and enhanced by brief descriptions of some of the collectors (Apparently Percy Grainger loved his mum so much that he took a bunch of birch twigs with him on his honeymoon so that he could beat himself for having diverted his affections elsewhere.) and video screens showing archive photos and facsimiles of the manuscripts. At one point some cine footage of Maud and Helen Karpeles wearing oversized gymslips along with a male collector whose name eludes me but who was universally acknowledged not to be a natural, demonstrating some traditional dances. With handkerchiefs. There must have been 200 people in Firth Hall, and not a single one of them dared laugh.

The following day I took Sebastian for a special treat. As a child he was a great collector of polar bears - cuddly ones, model ones, books, pictures, ornaments, sculptures - you name it, if it was a polar bear, he collected it. But I don't believe he'd ever seen a real one. So I took him to Weston Park Museum to see the famous Snowy. Well, a real live one might have been asking a bit much, but a real dead stuffed one's the next best thing, and a lot more amenable to posing for photos.

Today I...

Inspired by James Ward who likes boring things, and DG's uneventful day yesterday... Today I went to Wilkinsons and bought some wrapping paper, also some slightly trendy looking raffia ribbon (although obviously no longer trendy if you can get it in Wilkos).



I then came home and wrapped the presents that I already have or have already bought. Here is a very poor photo of the presents I have wrapped so far. It is a poor photo because this is an iPad 2, I left it too lated to do in daylight, and Blogpress makes it look even worse than it is. I must get Bloggsy, Herbie looks far better than this.

My gift tags are made of old Christmas cards cut up with pinking shears. Obviously, I could afford to buy the Wilkinsons' gift tags that match the paper, but this is a family tradition. Many years ago, possibly before I was even born, my mother noticed some similar tags on sale at a local fete (I must have been born and at school, otherwise why would she have been at such an event). She thought 'I'm not paying for them, I could do that' and so a tradition was born. I am in fact now the posessor of the family pinking shears and take great pleasure each year in seeing how many tags I can produce from each card. Usually the cards I cut up are from at least one, and up to many, years previously, as when we were a family we received far more cards than we ever needed tags (at least when you apply the tag: card ratio which I reckon averages around 3:1).

I haven't actually been out and deliberately bought any Christmas presents yet this year (no, I tell a lie, there is one very deliberately purchased one here, but other than that) these are all things I've picked up over the course of the year. I won't say who they're for as they might start trying to guess already.

I was thinking of buying a tree. Having been for years one of those austere 'tree doesn't go up any earlier than the day before Christmas eve if I can help it' types I thought a bit of extended festive spirit wouldn't go amiss this year. However, the artificial trees in Wilko's and in B&M bargains were all exceedingly cheap and nasty looking, so I didn't get one. I might get a real one, they smell nice, but they do make a mess. Maybe just some holly from the garden if no one will notice me taking it. Holly doesn't last very well though, even if you put it in water. I tried that in 2011.

One week later

View from my window

My idea for a Sunday feature... The view from my window wherever I am. Mostly of course it will be this one, tracking the changing seasons and maybe, if it goes on for long enough, the human environment too. Perhaps the Hallam Tower Hotel barely visible dirty white against the grey sky on the right, will disappear, or (perhaps less likely) become luxury flats. Or maybe the hotel across the road will fetch something like its asking price of £1.2 million and turn into falts, instead of sitting ghostlike as it does now, with the owners occupying just a few rooms on the ground floor.



And here is the Hallam Tower in its days of hope and glory, completed in time for the 1966 World Cup qualifiers that were held in Sheffield... Closed in 2004 and all set to become luxury flats, until (my local correspondent informs me) the discovery of asbestos (a surprise in a building of the mid sixties?) rendered insufficiently profitable. The building languished ever since, widely considered an eyesore (and with some justice; as stunning as the building could be, it will always stand in stark conflict to its environment) and few tears, it seems, would be shed were it to be demolished. Maybe next week it won't be raining and you'll be able to see it better.

Location:S10

What we missed

Having gone to Gravesend on HS1 from St Pancras, we returned on the normal train to Charing Cross, and then caught the Clipper down to Tower Pier, arriving at half past ten, about two minutes after Waverley, so we able to have a good look at what we missed out on.

Adventure aborted

... owing to high winds at Gravesend. :-)
Will explain all tomorrow... Unless you can guess in the meantime. Should have gone to Southend....

Point of departure

Gravesend....

First boat trip

First port of call...

On my way...

Adventure

I'm off on a bit of an adventure today, weather permitting. I'm going to try and post updates as I go.

The really exciting bit isn't due to happen until this evening and involves a historic boat - but not a narrow one.

In the meantime I might get to go on another historic boat, which is narrow, and which I've never been on before although thousands have, and maybe even on a fast boat too, or perhaps a fast train instead....

Is UHT milk getting nicer?

Or are my tastebuds deteriorating?

I used to detest the stuff; the smell made me heave; it absolutely ruined a cup of tea with its cooked milk taste. I refused to countenance it. But now I find I don't mind it at all; indeed, I can scarcely tell the difference. We use long life milk all the time now on Chertsey; it's so much easier to stock up on 500ml cartons before we leave  than to constantly wonder where we are going to get the next pint from, and if it will still be useable in the morning. The half litre packs are a handy size which we can get through in a day, so rarely have to throw any away even without a fridge.

It seems to me unlikely that the fundamental processing of UHT milk has altered - it must still depend on heating it to a high temperature and therefore cooking it. But maybe there is a difference in the make up of the milk that is treated? Perhaps it contains less of the proteins or sugars that are affected by the heat? I've always thought that the effect was less noticeable with skimmed than whole milk, but I am comparing like with like (in the form of semi-skimmed) here.

If it's not the milk itself, then that only leaves my tastebuds. I would be prepared to believe that they were getting old and losing their sophisticated discrimination, if not for the fact that Sebastian, who similarly used to find long life milk revolting, has noticed the same phenomenon.

Travelling to the black country museum (a blog from Baz)

Good evening!

I'm currently sitting on the back end of Chertsey with my wonderful girlfriend IzzI sorrounded by working boats and looking at a rather impressive chimney. We, IzzI; mum; Jim; and me, are here for the Black Country Museum boat gathering. We have our costumes all ready for tomorrow and mum is cooking us lying around curry (curry made from what whatever's lying around... Chick pea korma with broccoli and cous cous) and I thought i would take you through our journey so far.

After a night of mod cons (read: running water) on Bakewell we set off early with the promise of bacon rolls for breakfast. Huzzah. We made good time on our way to the Wolverhampton 21 and happily munched on our rolls* and it wasn't long before we came across the first set of paddles. With Jim cycling on ahead to empty the locks and mum at the tiller IzzI and I worked the paddles and we completed the flight in two hours and six minutes. That was over the 1:45 that mum was aiming for but with two paddles out of comission, 1 paddle mishap (nobody injured!) and my refusal to run between gates, I don't think that's too terrible.

After the 21 I steered the rest of the way to the museum. I did bang the boat twice (sorry mum) but it weighs a few tons and is made of steel so I don't think I damaged it. I did do a couple of good turns and backed into the museum to make up for it. I'm a little bit proud. A bit of exploring, and a bit of a nap later, and I started this blog.

I'm not entirely sure what's going on tomorrow but I have my neckerchief ready.

Sleep well.

S.

*
Recipe for boat bacon rolls. Feeds 4.

You will need:
1 frying pan
1 enamel tray
1 Beatrice stove
4 buttered rolls
14(?) bacon rashers
1 boat

1. Forget the frying pan
2. Start the boats engine and begin travelling
3. Balance enamel tray on Beatrice stove
4. Cook bacon on enamel tray
5. Allow engine to rattle tray off stove and deposit bacon under the floor
6. Find 13 rashers of bacon
7. Assume thats how many rashers you started with
8. Brush off the dirt
9. Cook bacon a bit more
10. Place on buttered rolls
11. Eat.

Competitive streak

The shortlist has just been announced for the National Historic Ships photo competition. There are some fabulous photos as always (here) but I'm a little disappointed that my shot of Walton's launch hasn't made the cut in the 'traditional maritime skills in action' category, particularly as three of the five photos that have done feature caulking, rather than reflecting a variety of traditional techniques like the rather dramatic and rare art of side slipping.

That house in Berkhamsted...

The subject of Halfies latest 'mystery location' reminds me. Our journey back from Watford began, in high hopes of getting back to Stretton within the week, with thirty one locks on what may well have been the hottest day of the year.

Inspiration struck as we ascended in Rising Sun lock, and I grabbed my tankard from its hook behind the stove, some cash from the ticket drawer, and clambered out to take my place at the bar. By the time the top gate was open I was back at the tiller and a fair way down a very welcome pint.

(And yes, I did offer to get Jim one, but he's very abstemious when on duty. I did keep him well watered.)

Naughty

Once upon a time there was a new poster on CanalWorld. Her name was Phylis and she quickly became notorious for being opinionated, provocative and just generally annoying. Her biggest crime of course was to have a big shiny yogurt pot for a boat and not to be ashamed of it.

But I found that over the years, Phylis grew on me. Without wanting to sound patronising, she matured and mellowed - and I was won over by her enthusiasm and love for a boat that couldn't be more different from my passion. I like to think also that when Naughty-Cal encountered Chertsey patiently awaiting a spare part at Torksey, a mutual understanding and respect began to be forged. What's more, Rachel (for she is Phylis no more) writes a damn good blog. So I have at long last added it to the blogroll - great recipes and an insight into a very different kind of boating.