Thwarted walk

And nary even a picture to show for it (I've got so out of the blogging habit it didn't occur to me to take one).

Whilst we were chugging along on Otley last week, Pete asked after Naburn, and I had to admit I hadn't been near nor by since covid (the inaugural and final AGM of the Friends of Naburn was held in March 2020 - we struggled on for a while, until both the Chair and Treasurer resigned).

So yesterday I thought I would take a stroll down to see what I could see. From my house to the Basin is 1.8 miles, and from there it's another two and a half to Tinsley so I thought I'd walk there and get the tram back.

Unfortunately, I got as far as Greenland Road Bridge, where the towpath changes sides - and which is nearly at Tinsley - to find the towpath closed. A sign said that it was due to re-open in April. April 2022, that is. Going up onto the bridge, the path down was barricaded with temporary fencing panels, and looking down at the towpath, that appeared to have been fenced off in a much more substantial and permanent-looking way (and still no photos; what was I thinking!)

I can't get any sense out of the CRT stoppages website, but local press accounts suggest this was for railway works.

So I had no choice but to turn round and walk all the way back home, making a brisk stroll of nearly eight miles in all, and none the wiser about Naburn. Next time I'll get the tram there. And back.

Still, on the bright side, my Garmin watch told me I'd set a new personal best for 10 km. I will never, ever, beat my record for 5 km, because I actually ran three miles once, and that will never happen again. But walking fast for six and a quarter miles - there has to be room for improvement there.

1195 days later

Obviously, if I had known what was going to happen, I would have done more boating in 2019; in the event, the only trip we made that year was to Braunston and back. And that was the last time I was out on Chertsey.

Until last week.

Now, we need a bit of backstory here, but I'll keep it brief. Earlier in the summer we had gone to Alvecote and among other things, tried unsuccessfully to start the engine.  Last Tuesday, Steve and Nick came over from Brinklow to have a look at it, and discovered that water has got into the cylinders. I know not how, as the cap was not only on the exhaust, but took a lot of removing when we were last there. Anyway, we are where we are, and by a substantial stroke of luck it transpired that Pete Harrison was at Alvecote that day, due to leave with Otley to collect a boat from Brinklow that same week - and I had the week off work. 

So before I could talk myself out of it, I'd accepted Pete's very kind offer of a tow and set myself up for a day and a half's boating instead of tussling with the University of Sheffield's arcane promotion process.

We left Alvecote just after midday on Wednesday and got half way up Atherstone (with help from Rod and Sarah) before the locks were closed; we were (of course) butted up to the gates when they reopened at eight o'clock on Thursday morning. The weather was pretty perfect and we got to Brinklow at about half past four,

with a perfect turn (by Pete; I was on the bank taking photos and getting the lock ready) at Hawkesbury along the way.

Coincidentally, Thursday was the thirteenth anniversary of my buying Chertsey.

After three years of neglect, she looks a bit sorry for herself, but engine aside it should (touch wood, but not the rotten bits) be largely cosmetic; the paintwork and parts of the woodwork are in a bad state, but inside the cabin and the hold has stayed dry. 

What the day and a half of boating has told me is that I love it and I've missed it; I'd lost sight of how much it means to me and how I've missed expressing that part of myself. 

Chertsey the boating blog is back.

In praise of the Post

Sending a letter feels really expensive these days, at 95p for first class and 68p for second (it's so long since I've bought stamps that I had to look that up).  

Sending a parcel, on the other hand, feels like stunningly good value. 

I've been to and fro from Newhaven a few times this year, and am delighted to be travelling by train again rather than by car. For me, it's far less hassle and less stress (yes, things can still go wrong occasionally, but at least it's someone else's job to sort it out).  It's even considerably cheaper these days. The only downside is that I can't bring so much stuff with me.

Last time I was down, in early June, I wrnt on a charity shop rampage, and then went and bought some fabric too. No way could I carry all that back on the train, so I parcelled it up and posted it to myself - and it was there waiting for me when I got back.

This time, I had my Volvo lights - which had already each made its respective journey by post - to bring back to Sheffield.

I also had something considerably heavier.

Chertsey's entire handstart mechanism, weighing in at nearly 15 kg. For reasons I can't recall, this ended up back in Newhaven after we took it off in Shardlow in 2010 to replace the shaft and bearings for the cooling fan, and never put it back on (no one except Mike Askin could actually hand start it anyway). For reasons I might get around to explaining later, I now need to get it back to Chertsey.

We discussed whether it was worth Jim driving it up to the boat, or even bringing me back to Sheffield with it (notwithstanding my unused open off-peak return ticket), but clearly that would be a very expensive hassle. Could we possibly post it? The Royal Mail website says that a medium (not even a large!) parcel can weight up to 20 kg, and its blue plastic box certainly came in under the maximum dimensions. So I packed it all up carefully, and parcelled it up in heavy duty polythene and gaffer tape so it looked like a proper parcel ...

Then we wondered how to get it to the post office, a ten minute walk away. A wheelbarrow was considered until Jim had a lightning-bolt moment and realised we could take it by car, as the town centre car park is right by the Post Office.

I still had a sneaking feeling that surely this couldn't be possible and we'd be told to take it away again, but the young woman behind the counter (there wasn't even a queue!) couldn't have been more cheerful and helpful. I had the two parcels with the lights as well, and she said that as they were all going to the same address, they could go as 'a consignment' for £11.95 the lot.  Just leave them with her ...

And, when I got back yesterday, there they all were waiting for me. 250 miles in 48 hours for under 12 quid. I call that terrific value.

One of my less favourite activities is queuing in a Post Office, so I also think it's utterly brilliant that when I'm sending a parcel I can weigh it, pay for the postage online, and the postman will collect the parcel from my house!

I'm just off now to pack up and send Jim a curtain.

Birthday highlights

 Well, what more could a girl ask for?

Cool (or, new uses for a sunbed)

So this is why I needed a cellar

Location?

Not quite in the league of Herbie quizzes, but whilst waiting for a very slow volunteer to ring up my purchases in Oxfam, I idly glanced around and alighted on this. Unfortunately it was behind a pile of sofas so the angle from which I could photograph it was rather constrained, hence the reflections.

I am terrible at identifying locations, but it looks vaguely familiar even to me. I'm not saying where I think it is though as I may be wildly and embarassingly wrong. I will write it on a slip of paper and put it in a sealed envelope, and reveal my guess only if the Herbies (for it is bound to be they) confirm it. Please feel free to tell me though if you get in before Kath and Neil.

Only four days in and a waterways-related post. I'm as surprised as you are.

Spring springs

A photo - admittedly very carefully framed - of my garden, where I was sitting out in the sun on Saturday for the first time this year.

A tin hut in Philadelphia

That's the Philadelphia on the borders of Upperthorpe and Netherthorpe, of course, but none the less picturesque for that. Photographed on the way back from coffee in Kelham Island (yes, I know), where they served a perfectly nice buttermilk and chocolate chip scone, and insisted on calling it a cookie.  Kelham Island for you.

It's been a while

Two years to the day, in fact.

On Friday 13th of March 2020, I was having a pint (or two) and a packet of crisps (or possible two) in a packed Blake. It was a worrying time. Earlier that evening, just as I had been about to leave work, t'Boss had called me into his office. It was quite likely, he said, that lectures might be suspended from the following week. Could I please check if any of our teaching sessions were formally timetabled as lectures.

Other than the Death in Venice-evoking posters that were appearing over campus, this was the first real sense that something significant, that might really affect us, might really be happening. Yes, of course I would. First thing Monday. Then I went off up the pub for a prearranged drink with my neighbour from round the corner. 

For some reason I took my iPad with me. While Margi was at the bar, I idly checked my emails. At twenty to eight, the VC had sent an email saying that all face to face teaching would be suspended from Monday.  

We weren't meant to go into the office on Monday; but that morning - March 16th - we had the first of what must now be thousands of online meetings, and I could see that many perople were in the office. So I walked over - basically, just to do it properly; to say goodbye knowingly. I left a note for myself on my desk, that said the date and 'au revoir'. I don't think it occurred to me that I wouldn't see it again until the October, and then only briefly.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

So last Sunday, exactly two years after my last visit, I popped back into the Blake. It felt good.

 

Today I took my library books back

 

Just a trifle overdue.

Fuchsias

Fuchsias were one of the things in the garden I grew up with, so I tended to think of them (I think it was the solidly reliable 'Beacon' variety) as rather ordinary everyday plants. It was only as an adult, after a break from them, that I came to love and appreciate the delicate exoticism of the hardy varieties, and the cheerful blowsiness of the showier ones. Also, they are one of the few plants I can propagate. I have roughly forty different plants in my not very large garden, and  that includes eight different varieties of fuchsia; some small in pots, and some threatening to take the place over.

As I have no idea what any of them is called, I've created an index of photos and given each a letter, so that I'll be able to identify my cuttings. And here are those that were in flower last week when I photographed them.

The first two are from cuttings brought from Newhaven, the second one originally from when the man over the road was trimming his and we picked some bits up off the pavement. It's hardy and will grow massive given the chance. The top one is possibly my very favourite. Again it grows very big, but has the most delicate flowers.

These next two are plants I bought in Tescos a couple of years back. They've never got very big, but cuttings I took from them in the spring seem to be doing OK.

In a pot I have two fancier, double and trailing ones. These are also from Newhaven cuttings and arrived with me via Braunston a few years back. We had to put them in the shade of the hedge every afternoon. Now it's the frost getting them that worries me, so I tuck them up against the house and wrap them up for the winter. The other one is darker but didn't have any flowers last week.

And finally, the monster. This was from the garden centre in 2019. It was a faitly well-established plant then, but has grown madly since, and in quite a sprawly way. I'm planning to cut it back hard this year (which will require a saw) and I'm pretty confident it will recover. It's other main feature is that its leaves are a very bright green, almost yellow when new, in contrats to the others' darker leaves. Being as it's so vigorous, I planned to take a lot of cuttings to put in troughs in the front garden next year.  Sometimes I pot cuttings up straight away, and sometimes I root them in water. I put these in water, and not only did they not root, they were all dead within a few weeks, all at once. I have never known that to happen before. So I'm a bit mystified by that but there's plenty more where they came from so I'll try some more in water and some in pots.

Hallam Tower(s) redux?

I ought to have a photo of the old Hallam Tower Hotel. I could see it from my window for the four years I lived on Manchester Road. Unfortunately, the one time I posted about it, the photos have disappeared. I mused then on whether it would be demolished, or end up as luxury flats. The one answer I didn't expect was 'both'.

Demolition began shortly after I moved away in 2017. And now it is essentially being rebuilt as flats (sorry, luxury apartments and penthouses), with the bottom two storeys of the original building remaining, and an additional two storeys on top, looking very similar to the old building. I wonder if that is a planning permission thing. I haven't checked, but I'd have thought it unlikely that a building like that, there, would have got permission today - it always did look very out of place - but like for like replacement can't be objected to.

It is, apparently, 'Sheffield's most iconic address.' 

The developers'/agent's pointlessly overengineered website says it is 'set in the heart of one of Sheffield's most exclusive postcodes'. 'One of' is doing quite a lot of work here, as S10 - nice as it is - certainly is not exclusive of students, and I can think of more expensive (and student-free) areas. 

Interestingly, the website studiedly gives the impression that this is a conversion of the hotel rather than a new building, with phrases like 'leading architects have considered every detail within this once celebrity-adorned hotel building' and 'the signature luxury style shines throughout the once majestic and renowned Hallam Towers Hotel' (I have read the website so you don't have to). On the plus side, they will have great views.

So here is the new block of flats going up, as incongruous in its setting as the building it replaces. Somewhere along the way the Hallam Tower Hotel has become Hallam Towers, plural. I am (mercifully) seeing only one actual tower block in the 'artist's' impression. I presume there is some market research that suggests that 'towers' sounds less sinister or overbearing than 'tower'.

The CGI interiors have a retro look to them (and an entrance lobby of audacious vulgarity), but I'm not seeing any fluted teak, without which it can never be a worthwhile recreation.

I think this comes under the heading of buildings you might not want to see demolished, but definitely don't want to see rebuilt.

The Odeon, Barkers Pool

Not a randon Pevsner walk, but this is in Pevsner (p. 98, where it is described as 'brash'), so ... This was the continuation of my stroll down Division Street to see the Kendal Works.

I had not known this was originally built as a cinema; I knew it only as the retail building it became. It is quite the most ghastly building in all Sheffield (beating even the Diamond).

And yet, and yet. There is still a pang of regret at the thought of it going. Not for aesthetic reasons - not for me, at any rate - but historic. It is an outstanding example of all that was the most egregious in 1980s architecture, and in a few more decades we may be looking to save such examples.

No architectural style is valued in the decades between its newness wearing off and its appreciation by those as yet unborn. Look how the sixties ripped through the Victorian (look, and weep, at Euston); and how we have only recently come to value and appreciate (if not, perhaps, love) the concrete of the fifties and sixties. The day will come when the mirrored glass and primary coloured steel of the eighties is back in fashion, but it will be too late for the Odeon (latterly 'Embrace'), Barkers Pool.

The Gaumont Building, as it will become known in honour of the cinema which the Odeon replaced in 1987, is not being demolished, merely given a 'facelift' so that it can continue to provide redundant retail space, but with a rather (from the artist's impression) fifties look plus living walls (which sound a bit high maintenance/garden bridge to me).

Less actively ugly perhaps, but is it really any more interesting, arresting or worthwhile?

Kendal Works

Today's random pick took me back to the 'Devonshire Quarter', where I took my first Pevsner trip back in April. 

Pevsner (p.124) describes the Kendal Works as having 'a pedimented front range of c. 1830 and workshop ranges of the usual Sheffield type with a blank rear wall onto Carver Lane and large windows facing the yard. The rear range was probably a grinding hull. In the courtyard is an early c. 20 scissor forge, single storey with a hipped roof, large casement windows and two hearths. Part restored in 2004.'

A 2013 post on the Sheffield History forum suggests that it was in bad shape again by then - but also alerted me to its Grade II listing, which led me to the Historic England website, where I found a more detailed description of the building, along with a photo that showed it as more derelict in 2001 - prior to the restoration Pevsner mentions. I took a photo from the same angle to compare:

The windows, for example, have been replaced.

Like many former industrial buildings in the area, it is now a 'cocktail lounge', although how active or viable a one was hard to judge at eleven on a Sunday morning. It wasn't looking very well cared-for.

After exhausting the photographic possibilities of the Kendal Works I continued down Division Street to Barkers Pool and thence to Pinstone Street, and sort of wished I hadn't ... but that's for another post.

I did this walk on Sunday August 15th, and it totalled 3.7 miles.

Desirable addresses

In the course of landing the four jobs (two fixed term and two open-ended) I've had in HE since 2003, I applied for somewhere in the region of 300, and probably had 20-30 interviews. Once you get to the interview stage you can't help but star to fantasise, and research online, where you might live. 

The one that sticks in my mind was when I had an interview for a Philosophy post of all things, at Manchester Met's Alsager campus. The estate agency website's most attractive offering in the area was at 13 Primitive Street, Mow Cop (presumably named for a Primitive Methodist Chapel).

I was reminded of this by this location spotted near Hillsborough Barracks.

Hillsborough Barracks

A very quick post-work walk, along a familiar and not at all pleasant route. Hillsborough Barracks is situated on the Langsett Road, where I regularly used to walk, and even run, early in the morning. I even knew the distance before I set out, as the far entrance was the marker for my first mile on that route.

As you can see, the site is now a shopping centre.

A very recognisably 1980s shopping centre,

fallen on harder times,

with many empty units. There are a few charity shops, and this formed part of one of my chazzering circuits, taking in the ones at the Barracks followed by those on Hillsborough's main shopping street.

The Barracks was built between 1848 and 1854 and was one of the largest in the country. Military presences were common in cities and one of the reasons for the massive contingent in Sheffield was the Chartist riots of 1839. These began when troops were called in from the earlier barracks at Hillfoot to break up an illegal, but previously peaceful, gathering on August 12th that year. The Chartists were a national movement, calling for democratic reform, including the vote for all men over 21, payment for MPs, the removal of the property qualification (the requirement that someone own property of a certain value to be eligible to stand for parliament), a secret ballot, equally sized constituencies, and annual parliaments. Following the 1839 riots, in which the government forces were seen by many to have over-reacted, Chartist membership and radicalism grew in Sheffield, with frequent demonstrations and real and imagined plots to stage riots and take over the Town Hall. Hence the perceived need for a strong military presence, not only in Sheffield, but in many other industrial towns too, as working men agitated for their political rights.

The turreted building fronting onto the Langsett Road was the officers' quarters and mess, with a chapel at the far end.

One parade ground is now a car park

The other, beyond the stables, has had an enormous Morrisons built on it.

If you look above the ground floor windows in the top photo, you'll see neat black shapes on the stonemwork. A similar phenomenon can be seen on this wall.

These blocks of black haven't been painted on; they're where there was a sign, which was in place when the stonework was cleaned but subsequntly removed. I don't know when the cleaning was done, but prior to then, the buildings - all the buildings - were that colour all over.

With the addtion of a little bit of wandering about, this walk was a fraction over two miles, on Wednesday August 11th.

Heeley Station extra

Paul of Waterways routes has found some more old photos of the station so I thought a second post was in order (incidentally the Chertsey blog's 1600th post).

This photo shows the entrance to the subway

which now looks like this

You can see where the roof of the entrance 'porch' was. And it looks as if the original low wrought iron railing to the right is still there:

Kevin Smith has recently added four photos from 1987 to his Flickr account - starting here and then going back, two of the front and two of the arches (I'm guessing from the non-road side, accessed from behind the station).

But despite all our best efforts, still no photo of the whole of the front of the building from any time between 1901 and 1968!

While I'm here, here are a few more details from that walk.

This is the view from Heeley Bridge, of a rather low River Sheaf - the river that runs in a culvert under the city centre and the Midland Station, and gives the city its name.

Next to the bridge, temporarily fenced off because of what appears to be a small sinkhole in the pavement, is a rather nice information point in the form of a wheel. I only photographed the section pertaining to the station.

It's a step up from your usual interpretation board, and crams in a lot of information; the photo should be big enough to read if you click on it.

In particular it notes that the road was lowered under the railway bridge to accommodate double decker trams, which has exacerbated flooding issues.

I'd previously come across this at Stretton Aqueduct on the A5 (albeit for lorries rather than trams). 

Just before I got to the station I found this ghost of a doorstep or entrance porch on the edge of a fenced off lot.

And finally, for fans of rust and rivets:

And pigeons

The local press have recently been reporting that Heeley Station and the line its on might re-open. I shall not be holding my breath.

Heeley Station

This post starts with a confession: I have driven past this car breakers' on the A61 dozens of times without recognising it for what it was - Heeley Station, built by the Midland Railway in 1901 (and closed by BR in 1968). I had always vaguely assumed it was a former garage. In my defence I can say that I was always driving past, concentrating on other things, and never had the opportunity to step back and look at the whole building.

Because when you do that, it is obviously a railway station. The criss-crossing railway bridges and the embankment extending along the road are also dead giveaways.

Pevsner notes that the station building is 'by the Midland Railway's architect Charles Trubshaw, in his characteristic style. Red brick with plenty of terracotta dressings (now overpainted).'

To be honest, I don't recognise that style, but other aspects were much more familiar from the main Midland Station

Including this, the entrance / exit of the pedestrian subway that ran under the tracks:

Previously bricked up, it was apparently opened up a couple of years ago for inspection / maintenance purposes - although it's only open for a few yards before being completely blocked with concrete. This info is again from the Sheffield History Forum, where there are also photos of the interior.

Not much to be seen round the back of the building - this was one I definitely couldn't circumambulate.

Strangely, I haven't been able to find any photos of the front of the station when it was still in use, prior to 1968. This nice one from Picture Sheffield shows that it became a breakers' yard quite early on - early 1980s? The current encumbents were established in 1987 and have expanded to take over the whole building.

The station's parcel office became a Post Office branch for a time.
 
This probably wasn't the healthiest walk, as much of it was along the A61. But it was six and a quarter miles of exercise on a pleasant, if slightly muggy, morning, on Wednesday August 4th.